August 10th, 2008
The ‘I’m not a fashion journalist’ lament…
Oh to have my own column SATC style! This is my online diary, wanton, wannabe fashion journalist stylee, of my yet-to-be-realised career dream. The first day of the rest of my life. What a cliche. I mean, everyone says that, except actual journalists who are constantly striving for original, witty intros, descriptions and middle bits, surfing along to the perfect denouement.
When you are a real journalist, each word, sentence, paragraph or unwitting simile has to convey a unique concept, untapped idea or irreverent joke. I want to be like them, writing about what I love. Fashion. I want to cover the shows, making clever references to vintage collections/modern art/urban culture, and intelligent commentary on the latest style, shape, colour, silhouette. The pre-shows, the real shows, the after-shows. I want to sit in the front row at the shows - I mean, anyone would KILL for that job, right? Working with Miranda Priestly of Runway fame, clickety-clacking with the other clackers, going to Paris…yes ok, The Devil Wears Prada is one of my favourite comedic fashion films.
All I can do is dream, masquerading as a pink-wigged mannequin named Penelope!