“Who’s
Anna Wintour?”
This was the jaw-dropping, Ripley’s Believe It or Not! type of question that people asked me
when I dressed up for Career Day in the fourth year of high school. I mean, how
could someone possibly not know of the
editor-in-chief of Vogue? The situation slowly became intriguing as it was
mind-boggling. Was I in some sort of bubble? Did I belong in this parallel
universe wherein I, along with its fellow citizens, praised the gods that were Alexander McQueen, Jean-Paul
Gaultier, and Diana Vreeland? Was it like a secret door, and upon entrance, one
would completely forget about the other side? Fashion--the proverbial lap of
luxury that ordinary folk would deem out-of-this-world, is actually as real as
pork barrel scams. And it is between these two realms—fantasy and reality---that
I am trapped in and unable to escape. But, nonetheless, I love it.
Picture this: tall, gazelle-like women prance and
sway with the ferocity and freedom of sirens. Their volumes of dresses wink at you as the light
catches them. One Dior dress with tubular swirls for a skirt and milk maid
sleeves is as regal as its yellow color is sweet. Now, here comes a girl who
looks as if a fiery dragon named Valentino just breathed red ruffles and silk
bows on her. Meanwhile, the lady in Dolce and Gabbana seems to have frolicked
in a poppy field for quite a long time, for she was dripping in florals and
floating in windswept tulle. And you only wish you could prance with them. This
was how I felt when I first got my hands on a fashion magazine. Teen Vogue
transported me to another dimension just by its striking fashion editorials. Each
editorial told a story, and it was as engaging and exciting as a novel. Every
stitch was a letter, every dress was a word, and every outfit was a declarative
statement. The great thing about fashion is that it is not limited to runways
and magazines---anyone and everyone has the opportunity to write a tale, no
matter how unattainable it may seem. It’s a vast and welcoming world that
encourages one to dream endlessly, just like how Coco Chanel dreamed of a
society wherein women can wear pants and sweaters and straw hats. Any form of
fantasy, whether as big as revolutions or as small as looking a little
glamorous, can be transformed into reality.
To become fashion is to have style. Now, I always
mention this quote whenever I write about this passion of mine, and so I will
reiterate what Diana Vreeland once said:
“You gotta have style. It helps you get down the stairs. It helps you
get up in the morning. It’s a way of life. Without it, you’re nobody. I’m not
talking about lots of clothes.” To be able to embody one’s character well, and
to be able to express one’s self with poise, grace, and conviction is a
beautiful thing. I believe that clothing, when utilized well, can be extremely
empowering.
When I was younger, I was insecure about this interest because it was “different”.
It was a time when The Jonas Brothers and the Biebs
were what you kept you giggling and gushing in between classes. It was also a
time when it was “cool” to wear really short shorts (and I mean short) with
tank tops and Chuck Taylors. However, my own sartorial instinct told me to let
loose and wear those trendy print-on-print looks I’d been dying to cop. And so,
I put on my tie-died pants, my acid-yellow jacket, and piled on accessories
like it was the goddamn ‘80s. Finally, I was at ease. I was comfortable. I was
myself. I learned that stylizing myself into how I want to dress up, and not by
conforming to majority, was very gratifying. Fashion should never be used to
mask one’s self, because every one of God’s children is unique in his or her
own way. Therefore,
to embrace personal identity through style is a completely noble act. So go ahead and wear leather with lace or even
polka dots with stripes---just as long as you stay true to who you are.
One might argue that this is all nonsense. This is pure baloney. Surely the world can revolve
and nature can continue to oxygenate and photosynthesize without Chanel, right?
Well, I beg to differ. For those who think that fashion is frivolous and
irrelevant should check up on their facts. Let’s make one thing clear: Fashion
is a multi-billion dollar industry made up of intelligent (but very crazy)
groups of geniuses who are knowledgeable about worldly things just as much as the
next philosopher. Case in point: Philippine brand Aranaz produces handbags made
from local textiles and even uses traditional techniques, which are all
inspired by the Filipino culture. Rajo Laurel’s recent collection is inspired
by math. Joey Samson’s aesthetic explores the taboo concept of gender fluidity.
Their works are completely relevant because they express ideas usually left
unsaid. They embrace what must be embraced, and produce things that we need (and
we don’t even know it yet). Aranaz stood for nationalism in a colonial
mentality-drenched society. Rajo translated math in real life. And Joey Samson
says that women can dress like men if they wish. In my opinion, the oblivious
others just perceive these designers as petty because they don’t see past the
media and buzz the collections receive. But behind the seams, there is wisdom,
thought, and discourse. Truly, this industry is one of the most important
authors of society, for it pens whimsical stories that narrate topics such as equality,
politics, pop culture, and art. It promotes dialogue because maybe, just maybe,
the movement and lines of fabric speak louder than babbling reporters. It then gives
everyone the opportunity to understand and to respond. However, I realize that
some may still think of a dress as just a dress. Some may not see past the
price tag. And I fully respect the argument that fashion is art for art’s sake.
But I also believe that the mere fact that clothing can be considered art is a
feat in itself. Isn’t it great that art can be wearable? One can breathe, talk,
and walk in it---a living masterpiece.
Every day, I walk into some sort of realm. Sometimes
I shimmy with flappers and their fringe frocks. Sometimes I spread the love and
peace out with hippies in Woodstock.
Sometimes I drink coffee and chitchat with Filipino millennials in cool
menswear suits and stilettos. And yes, I even get to talk to Anna Wintour about
why Birkenstocks are a fad. I incessantly pinch myself as a reminder that this is
ephemeral, this isn’t real. But, I realize that the line between fantasy and
reality can be blurred--erased even--and what remain is simply what we know,
who we are, and what we wish to be. Just pick the right pair of shoes.
(Main image from Antonello Trio, Getty Images Entertainment)
