Editor’s Note: Welcome to “A Goat Declares,” our new column penned by Alfred, our very own “fashion goat.”
Talkin’ Turkey, Pre-New York Fashion Week
It’s been a long time since we hit you with some hard-hitting fashion week news … such as the question of why there were gnats in our bathroom. (Short answer: we never found out.)
Heady questions, my friend. But now that the election madness has died down, and as we continue to ponder the eternal question of whether our relatives (who supported Trump) are nuts — or possibly we are? — here at FWO we decided to set aside some time for one of our old heart-to-hearts. And what better time than Thanksgiving? (Well, there are probably lots of better times, but let’s leave the rhetorical device intact at present.)
Is Trump a genius, or simply a flim-flam man? (And why not both?) Much remains to be seen. But we don’t know much: we know that much. We still think “Lady Gaga” is a terrible name, and still can’t believe John Legend had the balls to call himself a “legend.” But these musicians have been very successful, so what do we know. (We still can’t believe Kanye West is a success at all, but it goes to show you that being a spectacle is showmanship, so uh: eh.)
Again, we don’t understand things very well, so it’s best if we don’t comment.
We also believe the “Scoville” is a very self-serving unit of measure, Richard Feynman sounds like a cartoon dog (as much as we love him), and — let’s face it — we also entertain a host of other irritable (and, probably, irritating) opinions. For example, did we mention how much we can’t stand Instagram “celebrities?” Truly, we have more irritations about modern life, we think, than Grace Coddington.
Anyhoo, so it’s been a solid November, if a bit hot. We’ve been waiting for February to roll around (fashion week, after all, being what we’re really about, for the purposes of this website, anyway). So we’ve been trying to get into the fall mood, and even read the Horst at Home book, which was pretty good, as long as you don’t focus too much on Valentine Lawford’s likening of spoiled socialites (who, doubtless, have problems just like everyone else), to “flowers.”
We don’t want to be too fawning or too critical here: suffice it to say we also liked Slim Aarons’ A Wonderful Time, and disliked parts of it, for much the same reason. So now that our biases and prejudices are on the table, you’re free to make a determination for yourself.
Gee, what else did we want to say here. (There will be one of these declarative pseudo-missives every week leading up to New York Fashion Week, so if this was confusing — or enraging, or more likely, boring — to you, have no fear: now you know what to avoid.)
We can’t even seem to remember how “Whoopi Goldberg” was supposed to figure into this (her name was in the original draft of this story): possibly simply to note that she supports NYFW designer Stevie Boi?
Or maybe because we liked the 1987 film Burglar, and her name was meant to serve as inspiration, which — much like the election, now that we think of it — simply didn’t pan out.
That should be the closer, but it doesn’t feel quite right, so we’ll leave you with this: “Pain is the teacher” (or so a terrible French employer once told us). So by that measure, the election must be teaching all of us lots.
(Main Image: Arun Nevader/Getty Images)