时尚是如何把我变成SB的
导读：写完上篇的时候，发现一篇专栏作家Sophie Heawood的一篇文章，大有同感。分享出来，翻译是vice中国版翻的，有些地方我做了改动，就这水平，有的地方可能表达不准，附上原文。
我不太清楚自己究竟什么时候顿悟了“时尚是傻逼”这个概念。
可能是盯着那件 “我不懂意大利语，但我懂 Moschino” 的T恤的时候吧（以前我还觉得这种时尚宣言挺带劲儿，现在看起来真没劲透了）。
也有可能是我翻阅时尚杂志春季特刊的时候，背后突然感到一阵死亡的恶意：在这些大片里，模特都跟假人似的半死不拉活，活脱脱一堆等待人道主义救援的难民。
当然，也可能是在我看到 Kanye West 和 Alice Glass 这两名歌手坐在时装秀最前排的照片的时候：俩人左看右看，一脸的兴奋 —— 当时我就在想，如果有一种他俩还没染上的性病病毒也在现场的话，肯定比他俩还要高兴。
后来我发现，其实都不是。真正把我打醒的，是看到今年的奥斯卡大红人《为奴十二年》的女主角 Lupita Nyong'o 坐在时装秀前排的那一刻。 那一瞬间，我的脑子里有一种绝望的声音。
PS： Lupita 我求你别这样，你是微笑天使的经典代表，可是你知不知道时装周会毁了这一切？我真的看不下去了 ，Lupita 我知道你的穿衣品味非凡，无人能敌，可现在的你就像查理巧克力工厂里那个被嘬进管子里的小胖子。
“时尚”真他妈不是什么好东西——这玩意儿浮夸到了极点。
我是那种很相信朋友话的人，因为他们都比我懂时尚，都是专家，一场秀都不落。他们向我保证，说我一定会碰到那种让我动容并进而对时尚死心塌地的时刻 —— 比如说气球从天上掉下来啊，或者美术馆的展品突然在眼前活了起来了之类的场景。
我是挺喜欢这种玩意儿的，听上去很酷炫。满眼的花花绿绿、各种疯狂的点子、人们个个都像是从童话故事中走出来的 —— 有精神病、有公主、有熊…… 完全符合我的口味。
但在研究了这么多时装周之后，我脑中剩下的只有 T 台上雌雄莫辨的模特大军，一个接一个地接受 T 台下，面瘫的 Anna Wintour（《vogue》美国版主编） 们用持续肢体交叉的姿势进行评审和检阅。
我都能想象到，在秀场之外，一位以为自己很受欢迎的红人正在向门卫念着她的名字——为什么我想到了母神？为什么？！
门卫一边核对着嘉宾名单，一边在心里默默地凭穿着打扮给她对号入了座。不过，这位红人还没察觉到：自己脚底下正躺着一位街头时尚博主。
为了提高自己网站的浏览量，这位博主只能通过拍女人裙底的春光乍泄来搏关注 —— 这样一来他就会被 Tumblr 给禁了，然后他就能让他妈发起请愿活动，恢复他的帐号，最后他的粉丝数就能翻两番了；与此同时，那些在 Twitter 活跃的专栏作家会发起声讨他的活动，那些认为自己 “很女权” 的时尚博客也会开始征集签名，把这家伙用唾沫星子直接淹死。
这时，一位设计师在 Instagram 上发了她新设计的鞋子的照片：鞋子绑带上印着棕榈树，大高根是用透明有机玻璃做的，还有一条酒红色的漆皮细绑带。我能看出来，这些东西摆在一起挺有意思的，而且 high fashion 圈还没怎么出现过类似的东西。不过最终，我还是找到了最适合这些鞋子的形容词：实在是 …… 丑毙了。
时尚给我下了这么多年的药，让我一直以为，有一天我会找到门道。不过这周，我终于清醒了。我好比皇帝的新装里那个小孩，望着赤条条的皇帝，发现他其实什么也没有，什么也没穿。我能得到的，不过就是印在 T 恤上的几个单词罢了。
我觉得在时尚面前，自己就是个傻逼。
I’m not sure when I realised, exactly. It could have been when I stared at somebody in a T-shirt that said, in big capital letters, “I DON'T SPEAK ITALIAN, I ONLY SPEAK MOSCHINO,” and suddenly understood, having wondered for years about fashion slogans like this, that this wasn’t actually a punchline and nobody was laughing. It could have been when I looked hopefully at a spring fashion issue of a style mag, and noticed the sensation of death that crept up around my eyes when looking at models resembling crash test dummies with sexless morgue boners, all waxed and waned and awaiting a humanitarian relief effort to bring food. It could have been when I saw a photo of two very brilliant popstars, Kanye West and Alice Glass, on the front row of a fashion show, and they looked about as cheerful as a venereal disease that they hadn’t even managed to catch.
Actually no, the real moment of transcendence was definitely when I saw Lupita Nyong'o going straight from winning an Oscar to sitting on the frow of a fashion show and my brain shouted DON’T DO IT LUPITA YOU’RE A GLOWING SMILING PARAGON OF A HUMAN BEING AND IF YOU LOOK BACK OVER YOUR SHOULDER FASHION WEEK IS GOING TO TURN YOU INTO A PILLAR OF SALT. I CAN’T BEAR IT, LUPITA. I KNOW YOU WEAR DRESSES LIKE NOBODY ELSE DOES BUT IT’S LIKE WATCHING AUGUSTUS GLOOP RACE INTO WILLY WONKA’S FACTORY OF DREAMS AND THEN GET SUCKED UP INSIDE A MASSIVE PIPE OF GLOOM.
Because fashion, which has been all around the media for the last couple of weeks, does not seem to make people very happy. Fashion doesn’t look like a place I would go if I needed a hug. It doesn’t seem to be as much fun as it tells you that it is.
I do trust friends who know more about it than me, who go to all the shows, and who promise me that there are moments where the beat kicks in, balloons fall from the sky and a fierce human art gallery comes to life in front of your eyes. 'Cos I’d enjoy that, it sounds ace. All the colours, all the wild ideas, dressing like a kid in wonderland, like a freak, like a princess, like a bear – I’m into all that. But having studied lots of Fashion Weeks from afar, what I actually see is an endless parade of the sexless, modelling clothes for the smileless, all under the watchful eye of exam invigilators like Anna Wintour, who keep their limbs folded up inside them like picnic chairs.
Outside these shows, I like to imagine there is a sulking semi-famous person, who is giving her name to a sulking doorperson, who is pretending not to recognise her ranking in the garment-led hierarchy. The sulking semi-famous has not yet noticed that she is standing on the head of a street-style blogger who is lying in the road, having decided that the only way to increase his traffic this quarter is by focusing on controversial upskirt shorts, as these will get him banned from Tumblr, which means he can get his mum to launch a Change.org petition to have his account reinstated, which will lead to a quadruple surge in followers as Laurie Penny launches a Twitter campaign against him and Vagenda set up a counter-petition to have him stoned to death.
The Chanel supermarket with Rihanna pushing a shopping trolley? The one where they were all wearing stuff from McDonald's? I mean, it’s pretty funny, if you’re somebody who has never actually laughed. But it’s not exactly the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode about the Palestinian chicken.
The other day a designer put up an Instagram picture of some shoes she’d just made, and they had big palm tree-print straps, chunky stripper heels made of clear Perspex, and another, smaller strap, made of patent leather in burgundy. I could see how all of those elements were interesting. I could see how their juxtaposition, in a high-fashion frame of reference, was almost new. Finally, the exact word I was looking for came to my mind. These shoes were… horrible.
Fashion has held me in its spell for years because I kept thinking I would learn to read its language, study its form, and finally, I would get the joke. It dawned on me this week, like the child looking up at a naked emperor, that there isn’t one. There are just some words on some T-shirts.
I feel like such a fool.
————————————
微信公共平台——dushelaila
我不太清楚自己究竟什么时候顿悟了“时尚是傻逼”这个概念。
可能是盯着那件 “我不懂意大利语，但我懂 Moschino” 的T恤的时候吧（以前我还觉得这种时尚宣言挺带劲儿，现在看起来真没劲透了）。
也有可能是我翻阅时尚杂志春季特刊的时候，背后突然感到一阵死亡的恶意：在这些大片里，模特都跟假人似的半死不拉活，活脱脱一堆等待人道主义救援的难民。
当然，也可能是在我看到 Kanye West 和 Alice Glass 这两名歌手坐在时装秀最前排的照片的时候：俩人左看右看，一脸的兴奋 —— 当时我就在想，如果有一种他俩还没染上的性病病毒也在现场的话，肯定比他俩还要高兴。
后来我发现，其实都不是。真正把我打醒的，是看到今年的奥斯卡大红人《为奴十二年》的女主角 Lupita Nyong'o 坐在时装秀前排的那一刻。 那一瞬间，我的脑子里有一种绝望的声音。
PS： Lupita 我求你别这样，你是微笑天使的经典代表，可是你知不知道时装周会毁了这一切？我真的看不下去了 ，Lupita 我知道你的穿衣品味非凡，无人能敌，可现在的你就像查理巧克力工厂里那个被嘬进管子里的小胖子。
“时尚”真他妈不是什么好东西——这玩意儿浮夸到了极点。
我是那种很相信朋友话的人，因为他们都比我懂时尚，都是专家，一场秀都不落。他们向我保证，说我一定会碰到那种让我动容并进而对时尚死心塌地的时刻 —— 比如说气球从天上掉下来啊，或者美术馆的展品突然在眼前活了起来了之类的场景。
我是挺喜欢这种玩意儿的，听上去很酷炫。满眼的花花绿绿、各种疯狂的点子、人们个个都像是从童话故事中走出来的 —— 有精神病、有公主、有熊…… 完全符合我的口味。
但在研究了这么多时装周之后，我脑中剩下的只有 T 台上雌雄莫辨的模特大军，一个接一个地接受 T 台下，面瘫的 Anna Wintour（《vogue》美国版主编） 们用持续肢体交叉的姿势进行评审和检阅。
我都能想象到，在秀场之外，一位以为自己很受欢迎的红人正在向门卫念着她的名字——为什么我想到了母神？为什么？！
门卫一边核对着嘉宾名单，一边在心里默默地凭穿着打扮给她对号入了座。不过，这位红人还没察觉到：自己脚底下正躺着一位街头时尚博主。
为了提高自己网站的浏览量，这位博主只能通过拍女人裙底的春光乍泄来搏关注 —— 这样一来他就会被 Tumblr 给禁了，然后他就能让他妈发起请愿活动，恢复他的帐号，最后他的粉丝数就能翻两番了；与此同时，那些在 Twitter 活跃的专栏作家会发起声讨他的活动，那些认为自己 “很女权” 的时尚博客也会开始征集签名，把这家伙用唾沫星子直接淹死。
这时，一位设计师在 Instagram 上发了她新设计的鞋子的照片：鞋子绑带上印着棕榈树，大高根是用透明有机玻璃做的，还有一条酒红色的漆皮细绑带。我能看出来，这些东西摆在一起挺有意思的，而且 high fashion 圈还没怎么出现过类似的东西。不过最终，我还是找到了最适合这些鞋子的形容词：实在是 …… 丑毙了。
时尚给我下了这么多年的药，让我一直以为，有一天我会找到门道。不过这周，我终于清醒了。我好比皇帝的新装里那个小孩，望着赤条条的皇帝，发现他其实什么也没有，什么也没穿。我能得到的，不过就是印在 T 恤上的几个单词罢了。
我觉得在时尚面前，自己就是个傻逼。
I’m not sure when I realised, exactly. It could have been when I stared at somebody in a T-shirt that said, in big capital letters, “I DON'T SPEAK ITALIAN, I ONLY SPEAK MOSCHINO,” and suddenly understood, having wondered for years about fashion slogans like this, that this wasn’t actually a punchline and nobody was laughing. It could have been when I looked hopefully at a spring fashion issue of a style mag, and noticed the sensation of death that crept up around my eyes when looking at models resembling crash test dummies with sexless morgue boners, all waxed and waned and awaiting a humanitarian relief effort to bring food. It could have been when I saw a photo of two very brilliant popstars, Kanye West and Alice Glass, on the front row of a fashion show, and they looked about as cheerful as a venereal disease that they hadn’t even managed to catch.
Actually no, the real moment of transcendence was definitely when I saw Lupita Nyong'o going straight from winning an Oscar to sitting on the frow of a fashion show and my brain shouted DON’T DO IT LUPITA YOU’RE A GLOWING SMILING PARAGON OF A HUMAN BEING AND IF YOU LOOK BACK OVER YOUR SHOULDER FASHION WEEK IS GOING TO TURN YOU INTO A PILLAR OF SALT. I CAN’T BEAR IT, LUPITA. I KNOW YOU WEAR DRESSES LIKE NOBODY ELSE DOES BUT IT’S LIKE WATCHING AUGUSTUS GLOOP RACE INTO WILLY WONKA’S FACTORY OF DREAMS AND THEN GET SUCKED UP INSIDE A MASSIVE PIPE OF GLOOM.
Because fashion, which has been all around the media for the last couple of weeks, does not seem to make people very happy. Fashion doesn’t look like a place I would go if I needed a hug. It doesn’t seem to be as much fun as it tells you that it is.
I do trust friends who know more about it than me, who go to all the shows, and who promise me that there are moments where the beat kicks in, balloons fall from the sky and a fierce human art gallery comes to life in front of your eyes. 'Cos I’d enjoy that, it sounds ace. All the colours, all the wild ideas, dressing like a kid in wonderland, like a freak, like a princess, like a bear – I’m into all that. But having studied lots of Fashion Weeks from afar, what I actually see is an endless parade of the sexless, modelling clothes for the smileless, all under the watchful eye of exam invigilators like Anna Wintour, who keep their limbs folded up inside them like picnic chairs.
Outside these shows, I like to imagine there is a sulking semi-famous person, who is giving her name to a sulking doorperson, who is pretending not to recognise her ranking in the garment-led hierarchy. The sulking semi-famous has not yet noticed that she is standing on the head of a street-style blogger who is lying in the road, having decided that the only way to increase his traffic this quarter is by focusing on controversial upskirt shorts, as these will get him banned from Tumblr, which means he can get his mum to launch a Change.org petition to have his account reinstated, which will lead to a quadruple surge in followers as Laurie Penny launches a Twitter campaign against him and Vagenda set up a counter-petition to have him stoned to death.
The Chanel supermarket with Rihanna pushing a shopping trolley? The one where they were all wearing stuff from McDonald's? I mean, it’s pretty funny, if you’re somebody who has never actually laughed. But it’s not exactly the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode about the Palestinian chicken.
The other day a designer put up an Instagram picture of some shoes she’d just made, and they had big palm tree-print straps, chunky stripper heels made of clear Perspex, and another, smaller strap, made of patent leather in burgundy. I could see how all of those elements were interesting. I could see how their juxtaposition, in a high-fashion frame of reference, was almost new. Finally, the exact word I was looking for came to my mind. These shoes were… horrible.
Fashion has held me in its spell for years because I kept thinking I would learn to read its language, study its form, and finally, I would get the joke. It dawned on me this week, like the child looking up at a naked emperor, that there isn’t one. There are just some words on some T-shirts.
I feel like such a fool.
————————————
微信公共平台——dushelaila
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