I don’t suffer for fashion. It suffers for me. Fashion remains one of the few things I haven’t discussed here at length. Perhaps it is because I’m a sloth and hang upside down most of the day. Sleeping doesn’t require really fancy clothes. Clothes are expensive. Money is better used for cushy headphones. No one needs to worry what I look like, as I have taken the ‘disheveled’ style and mastered the art form.
Lookbook.nu offered a way of receiving feedback on my sweet style. As I perused the many people who had joined the online fashion diary, I thought “Seems chic”. Immediately I joined. Now I was part of something greater than myself. Now I could be surrounded by stylish people who didn’t look down on me. Perhaps I might learn something about this elusive group of people whose motivations and desires escape me. They might even help me out.
Last Saturday I hung out with fashion types. I wanted to understand what exactly made them tick. Apparently they had founded a boutique clothing line based out of New Jersey. Though I consider myself somewhat successful in my endeavors, I haven’t started a clothing line or even a company. A mere blogger, I don’t have a company to back me up. Even more amazingly, they managed to get some coverage from a blog, NBC’s blog. Part of my brain thought about teaming up with some obscure direct TV channel to increase our popularity together.
All of them were better dressed than I was. Usually this happens to me. I tend to wear clothing I know I’ll be comfortable in when it rains. By telling me about this, I tried to ‘step up my game’ conversation wise. We discussed those things endemic among twenty-somethings: money, bands, vague goals for the future, a slight feeling of disappointment in everything, etc. That worked out.
Now I am trying to learn their habits. I have a few head starts. Someone gave me this thing called a ‘comb’ I plan on using later on this year. More exotic gifts came including this strange thing you rub against your feet. That way, your feet are smooth. People have commented on my feet. Perhaps I missed my calling as a foot model, earning that sweet money cake.
Besides the joy of learning how to dress (a skill I think I will never quite ‘get’) I learn a more important skill: the ability to talk about it. This ability will allow me to look like I’m about to get all fashionable. People will look at me and say “That sloth knows what he’s talking about” as I speak to them with unkempt hair, a slight mumble and stubble which hides from my razor. Standing there as this delightfully honest mess who at least has finally cracked their secret code of language, if not exactly their sense of style.
I want to hug all the fashionistas out there, virtually. Let me know what a good look for a sloth is. Should I wear a suit and tie, or should I wear something more casual, more befitting of my species. Let me know, I want to make Lookbook proud. Send any full-length body pictures of sloths to: email@example.com. Thank you.