So. I have this friend, who's this web wizard because she continually manages to conjure up websites for me to look at and I am always amazed at HOW she found them, and I'm starting to think she made them up.
Anywho. Her latest pass-off to me was this site, lookbook.nu. It's full of pictures of wannabe fashionistsas (and there's some fashionist-bros on there, too-- like the name I've given them? I do.) flaunting their wafish selves, pretending to be too cool to look at the camera, looking forlornly away under titles such as "Bipolar Disorder" and "Lighntess of being!"
I love it. The vanity! The clothes! The misunderstood youth! My nails are bleeding emo onto the keyboard, the beauty hurts so much.
I can't help wondering if they could be any more pro-anorexic. Or any more ghoulishly WHITE. Or where the cute Cindy A. from Singapore found her scarf and flats. (But if I click on the pic, it will TELL ME. Ooooooh.....)
I hate it. I love it. I hate myself for loving it. Isn't that what being emo is all about, anyway?
Whatevs.
So the next time you find yourself scrunching your nose at a fashion magazine, thinking, "Ya OK no one actually wears this, right?" you'll know you're WRONG, oh so WRONG.
No comments:
Post a Comment