Clothes, clothes, clothes

My mom came to visit me at school the other day. She asked if there was anything she could bring me, and I asked for my hiking boots. I don't plan to go hiking, I just wanted to wear them with skinny jeans to get that rugged feeling. She also brought me a cake and a bottle of Martinellis, which is about the cutest thing you can think of. Isn't it odd, though, that when I think of what it is I want, what comes to mind is a pair of sturdy old boots?

Something that the world may have too much of, in addition to war, famine, disease, taxes, politicians, bad manners and cars, is clothes. There's an awful lot of clothes out there. New York Fashion Week finished a little while ago, and being casually interested I clicked through a few slideshows on Women's Wear. There were some nice things, but on the whole my starting premise was vindicated: still too many clothes.

New York is often called the most commercial fashion week. I don't know what that means; of the major fashion capitals, the only one that isn't commercial is London, since British designers seem more interested in creating outlandish confections than in selling clothes. In my opinion, British designers should not be taken seriously until they start showing in Paris.

New York is different, though: it follows trends rather than creating them, taking inspiration from a host of designers - Rick Owens, Lanvin, a dash of classic Givenchy. Then there's the ever-present ingredients of American fashion: sportswear (not so much of that, unfortunately), the look of East Coast prep schools and the undying glamor of old money - as imagined by second-generation immigrants, unfortunately without any improvement.

Without naming names, then, you know what I didn't like. In my next post, I'll mention what I did.