My grandmother, apparently, is an avid junk collector - magazine junk. And to my chagrin, the curse has rubbed off on me. Because even if I’m down to my last tener, collecting glossies is my sport. It’s a fire hazard to my claustraphobic space, and moving is a pain (when I moved to the UK and back, I got rid of them by the hundreds), but when you’re that passionate, what else can you do?
It’s not easy to forget; my time at my grandparents’ house spent lost in the basement. But it wasn’t a boogy-monster space, matter of fact, it was equipped with bedrooms, sliding glass doors and most importantly, a library-like room with magazine filled satchels – loads of them. My grandmother was a Cosmopolitan reader, and Harper’s Bazaar I think – not quite sure. Actually, yes, she was. Regardless, when I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, it was only when I decided on journalism that my habit started to make sense.
If journalism is what you’ve dreamt about – particularly the fashion segment – then it’s due to the same obsession. That along with the cinematic effect of Chanel No 5’s parfum commercials and of course, infamous shows like Fashion Television. It becomes this tight-fisted dream to one day be apart of an awe-inspiring culture, but things have changed.
Fashion blogging – and Twittering – is the future. And that’s just something us stubborn headed print lovers have to accept. Especially when the new world entails fashion’s current talk of the town: Tavi Gevinson. At just 13, she’s flying all over the world, sitting front row at the most prestigious couture shows and by GOD, writing for US Harper’s Bazaar, a magazine noted as one of the most acclaimed fashion bibles ever produced.
I’ll be the first to admit at one point, Tavi stirred up a bit of the greened eyed in me. And I too tried to hide it behind the guise of being a “real” Journalist. But when you really think about it, why shouldn’t she have her moment? And who’s to say what she’s doing isn’t just as authentic as the salaried magazine staffer? Look at it this way; Stephen Sprouse, the beloved genius behind LV’s graffiti inspired bags only remembered as a name, and nothing else. Gia Carangi, the most acclaimed to grace the catwalks in Milan and Paris, died Aids stricken and indigent on a hospital bed somewhere in Philadelphia. Not that it has to be that dramatic but you get the point. To say victimize yourself using Tavi’s success is a bit … young. And if you’re a true HB reader who’s familiar with their Paris Hilton cover tendencies, I don’t think Tavi’s arrangement should be as a surprise. Is it really that serious?
Everyone – including the fashion blogger, has the same admiration for fashion world as the burgeoning – or established – fashion journalist. Just because you happened to go to school for it, or are making a regular living through this ”official” title really doesn’t make you more deserving of anything. No one said the world is fair. But that’s what makes it so interesting.
