I feel like being nineteen justifies dressing with extreme extravagance and gaudiness so far removed from simplicity and conventional good taste. Which is why on my latest troll through Vienesse second hand shops I emerged with a pink visor, neon fanny pack, feather mask, sequined and shoulder padded blue mohair jumper, gold foil shirt with more shoulder pads, XXL shoulderless button up dress, gold chain with sea stars, huge vest top in bright blue, and neon paisly print tee shirt. Mind you I think there are a few more pieces of delightfully bizarre Euro-Trash acquired but these are all that spring to mind. And of course all this only set me back about twenty euros.
I do envy people that can sum up their personal style in a simple phrase,or possibly even one word. Like 'modern geisha', 'black', 'Victorian', or 'structure'. People who's closets look like an All Saints showroom with every peice entirely related to one esthetic. If I had to sum up my present style it would probably be somethign like. " 1980's English lord's son, takes loads of E, goes through his mum's jewelry and makeup, and all the historical costumes in the attic, then on a particuarly interesting trip believes he is living in 2050 during some post apocolyptic tribal warfare." Like I said simple. I think the big problem is,is that I just wear and possess a dizzying spectrum of clothes that defy explatation under a common denominator. That being said my main look for spring is inspired by tribal sub cultures that will result after the collapse of modern civilisation.
As I write this in the Vienna airport the little boy sitting across from me asked his nanny, " Is that a boy or a girl?" I am only slightly offended, actually I should be flattered. Androgony Acheived! But seriously such a little twat, it's not like I'm a pre-op transexual.