The way I define fashion is not by who is being worn on the runways, whose designs or bodies brim over the covers of popular magazines, or are currently most popular on Instagram, Twitter or Facebook.
I think fashion has an interesting way of not being so shallow, and if you can see it as such or be it then you’ve really separated yourself from the rest. Not every model strives to achieve this or even should. I don’t think everyone is meant to be fashionable in that way.
But the ones that do? Oh they have something that I find it hard to look away from. My style icon(s) are those souls you see on an early Sunday morning train ride with what remains of a well thought out outfit, and STILL blow you away.
It’s not always sneakers and windbreakers. It’s who we all are.
You can catch it at the Subway
Those people who take your breath away with how winsome they dare to look in something as simple as a sweatshirt and a beanie. Yes, high fashion has its place in this world, but there is nothing quiet like low, down, dirty, civilian fashion. Those shirts with logos that no one knows because they were bought in some blistering hot, sweaty basement show in the pits of New Brunswick or Brooklyn. I think people don’t give their own style enough credit because they don’t have the right legs, height, waist size or shoe size.
Beauty comes in the bold
But I love those people the most because they’re the ones who could never and will never fit into the tiny box that is high fashion. So they go bigger, harder, darker, brighter and take the runway look, set fire to it, and their take on it is born out of the rejection that society has made them feel.
It comes out at parties
So, I can’t call onto one person in the fashion world as my style icon because that’s often not where my breath is taken away. It’s those brown-eyed boys in all the right thrift on the F Bus, or the burning beauties that pass me on the way to SC&I that made me want to capture my thoughts on this outlet at all.