being chronically online + the normalisation 3” Tabi boots
I have lots to write about “The Internet™”, evidently. my deep obsession with the online and the niche that is… what can be reduced to the digital fashion industry consumes my everyday — but much like my chronically online peers I tend to sink into the hole that is the normalisation of the not-so-normal.
belief that my weird little overly-knowledgeable alcove of archive Margiela/Ann D/Rick/Helmut Lang/etc exists outside of the extreme micro-pocket of Tiktok that my fyp pushes trails my mind whenever I leave my home.as I sigh to myself, “no one in the club knows I’m wearing Rick Owens”, within that same breath I’ve circled back to wondering if my fit is intricate enough. am I basic for wearing my beat Ramones to Blind Barber? — probably not. do I ask myself, “do I look like I work in the fashion industry” every time I put on a fit that I think is lacklustre? for sure. the chronic critique that exists only in my own head eats. it’s a phenomenon I correlate with overconsumption of your own genre of media. when you surround yourself with your niche you lose sight of how dialled in you are. because; when every other person you digest — both online and irl (shocking, I know) has a couple threads, if not a whole clew, woven into your web of interests, that sense of self differentiation is lost in your own self scheming.
I’m — much like you, maybe? hopefully…? — in this tumultuous relationship with over consuming media and the need to be Cool and Different™ from the Cool and Different™ people I surround myself with (again, both online and irl). when all you do is look at cool shit online, when all you see are cool people in your circle, you forget about everyone walking past you wearing H&M/JCrew/etc. you forget that they probably have never heard of half the artists on the playlist you’re bumping. that the Toga sofa in your lounge is probably not something they’ve seen before. but this isn't about them or that. it’s about the experience that that we curate. our lifetime experience, which is somewhat of a self-sabotage, somewhat of a deliberate experiential design made for you by you to keep you in your lane. where we only see what we like. where what we like becomes the norm, and since when are tabi’s normcore?
@tfffq on ig
be it Puddle Boots or Ramones — the fashion industry has such a toxic relationship with exclusivity. that’s it’s only a special piece if I have it/do it/know about it. meanwhile, we spend hours in the gc complaining about how “no one gets it'“. I digress, that’s besides the point, but what does stand is that piece on exclusivity — where once a garment/shoe/accessory/etc hits the “mainstream market”, whatever that means, we want to reject it. we want to distance ourselves from group consumption, wearing what other people wear, indulging in what anyone else besides your vetted group of fashion mfs and the ig/tiktok influencer that gave you the green light to like it.
we (ME) have (has) this tendency to fixate on trying to differentiate. this idea of over-critiquing what we think is overdone, not wanting Tabis’ because now they’re basic, not talking about Rick being my favourite lifestyle brand because what if I’m accused of being a vamp (which I am, but I don’t need a “fashion critic” calling me that). when no one is really doing that, are they? the only people who think these pieces are basic are the handful of insufferable fashion girlies/guys/gays/theys who see them online everyday (again, ME, apparently). yet, I assure you that Tabis haven’t replaced the Adidas Superstar. they’re still the abnormal fantasy camel toe goat foot shoes my mum hates, they’re still Cool and Different™. you just need to touch grass.