We could ill speak of street style for hours, days and weeks without ever growing tired of it because the infernal circles of this practice are endless.
But we must also acknowledge the efforts of many people, much less famous editors and less well known bloggers, that for a week straight undergo the following tortures:
1. Pretending to talk on the phone for hours
Because it’s a known fashion fact that unless you’re blabbing away on the phone no-one is going to capture a snap of you.
2. Standing on the tram tracks
Risking their lives as well as public lynching on the line 23 for a photo on Vogue Armenia.
3.Laughing forcibly or hopping
Look, it honestly must take some effort pretending to have fun like crazy or hopping like a mountain goat while wearing 15 inch heels down the busy main streets of Milan.
4. Walking home dressed like a crazy freak
Until they’re all grazing in the main piazza -aka fashion’s red square- it’s all good. No one gives a flying fuck over bloggers wearing pajamas in public, hairy flip flops, a retainer attached to a hat -I’ve seen it with my own two eyes- but as soon as they turn the corner and take the road to return home in the remote corners on the outskirts of Milan, the shame will be so, so great.
5. Being hospitalized for pneumonia
Bare legs, sandals and tulle skirts on the snow in February, and mink fur coats in September. Go figure. They are undoubtedly as brave as a Spartan in Thermopylae.
Now, I rarely look at street style blogs, because after twenty minutes, a third vision of men in slippers, I feared for my sanity and exited the page. But basically these are my favorite looks of discomfort.
Place an X over what disgusts you the most
Magical mystical pop moment
“Random things”: incomprehensible outfit even after staring at it for 15 minutes as if I was standing in front of a Rauschenberg installation.