Friday, 10 January 2014

On Sport And Other Such Agonies








Wearing:  Bec & Bridge Blazer, Stussy Mesh Tee (Similar here and here), Martha and Lilly Handbag,     Ellery Skirt, Senso Shoes, Lovisa Necklace

The sports-luxe trend began without warning.

It permeated the streets of fashion week like a colony of ants to an unsealed jar of lollies.

It's signifiers were everywhere.  Leather baseball caps.  Mesh shorts.  Mesh tees.  Heels with track pants.  Sun visors.  Jarringly contrasted with a blur of high-end designer garb.

Street style photographers glowed like flames amongst the swarm of newly emerged sportswear-advocates, smothered in moth-like fashionistas vying for a taste of the warmth.  Fashionistas hoping that the nuance that distinguished them from the other adopters of the sportswear trend would be enough to set them apart.

The vibrating fashion week crowd was a behemoth with a stutter.  Stammering with camera flashes.  Speaking.  In.  Fragments.  Punctuated by Nikes.  Nikes with dresses, Nikes with dress trousers, Nikes with skirts.

The new sports-luxe phenomenon was so easy to pull off.  So easy that everyone was doing it and looking chic in the process.  True innovation and originality seemed few and far between.

Unlike the majority of the sartorially-concerned, my eventual acceptance of the sports-luxe trend came with a great deal of resistance.  

Sports have never been my forte, as a result of my extreme lack of coordination and a propensity towards developing a facial shade and sheen to rival a tomato during any attempt to engage in physical activity.  It seemed to me that in outfitting myself in luxury sporting attire, I would be constructing an artificial persona for myself, conveying an inauthentic notion of my identity to acquaintances.  

Put simply, I imagined that in adorning myself in sporting accoutrements, I would feel like a phoney and be perceived as a wannabe.

So I abstained from acknowledging the sports-luxe trend.  I took a vow of celibacy against the allure of its materialistic embodiments, ignoring their seductive pleas that grew incessant within clothing stores.  I dismissed the trend as one which would pass quickly, its irony having lost its lustre of novelty.  And yet I couldn't help but notice the way a leather baseball cap seemed to finish off an outfit so effortlessly, couldn't resist admiring the witty juxtaposition that Nike's offer against an otherwise textbook-chic ensemble.  

Despite my self-control in resisting its allure, the trend had not faded from prominence in the year-long period since its emergence.  The fashion pack had not lost the taste for its ease, comfort and simplistic, contemporary aesthetic.  The daily bombardment of sportswear imagery on fashion websites and blogs served only to perpetuate my growing appreciation for any garment originally intended for physical activity purposes.  My willpower was waning close to depletion.  

And then The Skirt arrived in my life.  

I cracked.

I knew it would pair perfectly with my sister's mesh tee; their coupling an unrivalled demonstration of my much-bragged-about skirt's versatility.  The tee added a cool, faux-effortless edge to an otherwise prim, somewhat conservative outfit.

I allowed myself to dip a toe into the pool of sports-luxe and by taking a sample of the trend and interpreting it in my own way, I feel as if I have avoided much of the homogeneousness that can often accompany the conformance to fashion.  

Whilst you will never find my exercise-disinclined self clad in a pair of leather track-pants or an ironically-sported sun visor, due to my absolute certainty that the hyper-irony of such an outfit on such an individual would not be understood by others, I will be making use of the instant-cool nature of sports-luxe pieces to enhance my outfits every now and then.  No matter the nature of a trend, you can always make it work for you, whether by dilution of its general aesthetic to conform to your own wardrobe or simply extracting the elements that you feel comfortable adopting.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to extract my Nikes from their dust-ridden habitat within the fathomless depths of my wardrobe.  There's still so much irony to be had!







Photo Credit: Deneale Sanders

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