Last Updated on January 30, 2013
"When I grow up, I'm going to dress like this."
What I love most about fashion is that it can make me dream. Although the word "dreaming" tends to evoke cliché and romantic imagery of heads in the clouds, in reality it is a process that I cannot describe more "tangibly" because it'll only make sense to you if you experience it personally (and if that is so, there's little need for me to explain anything anyway). Perhaps "dreaming" is - at least in my case - just a sobriquet for many visions of what I am, what I was, what I could have been and, most importantly, what I will be, inspired by a certain garment, a whole outfit or a photograph.
It works this way: garments - regardless of whether they're within my reach in any sense of the word or not - transport me into another world where I'm still me, but I'm also something I'm usually not. This second characteristic is, of course, something I in fact want to be like all the time, be this aspiration subconscious or completely unabashed.
These Bottega Veneta Spring/Summer 2011 ensembles fuel my age-old obsession with wearing (all) white, which coincidentally never manifests in the actual way I dress. There's a pragmatic motive behind my avoidance of white, a fear that my white clothes will get irreparably stained and I'll have to retire them. I'm one of those people who have nervous breakdowns if something unexpected happens to their sartorial possessions, as if I'm not aware of the fact that they come and go, that there's little chance I'm really going to wear something forever.
Despite this practical reasoning, anyone who knows me will have no trouble telling you I mostly sway towards black, the farthest away from white. I don't remember ever wearing black to express anything in particular. It just stuck with me because most of the clothes whose cuts, materials and textures I liked happened to be that color. While I do wear many other colors too, it's hard not to think of black as my staple color now. White doesn't fit into this story, which is probably why I've been postponing wearing it all this time.
I see myself in white in the future though, the clothes' structure corresponding to the color - airy, light and just enough loose, so as not to touch the body with their entire surface. The latter is one of my most beloved idea(l)s of the Japanese avantgarde school, one that I rarely put into practice despite feeling the connection. Like white, perhaps, it has yet to grow into a fully breathing part of me.
When I say that clothes are the closest to me of all, I mean it literally. Most of the time clothes are what is physically closest to our bodies; this is why I think they should be thought and talked about very often, not dismissed as trivial. Something that accompanies you (almost) 24/7 will undoubtedly leave imprints on you. You have the power to decide what these imprints will be like for you.
Sometimes I wonder what kind of person I'll be when (if) I'll be wearing all white and airy. It implies purity, but I was never concerned about that. Who knows?