fashion in theory.

for all of you out there quick to dismiss people in the fashion industry as ditsy airheads with nothing else better to do than indulge themselves in mindless frivolities, think again.

i moved to uk to do my degree in fashion promotion, expecting the expected: styling/PR/journalism and a touch of events management but never in my wildest imagination (okay, so maybe it isn't that wild *shrugs* i'm prone to a little exaggeration now and again) did i anticipate having to do so much theoretical work.

you wouldn't believe the amount of time i've been spending in the library lately. frankly speaking, it's quite unbelievable. after the initial excitement of fresher's week died its inevitable death, i've to date, been in the library every. single. day. since. yes it's sad, maybe even bordering on pathetic, but it's necessary and a choice that i semi-willingly make. i find that no matter how much time i put in at the library, hitting the books and poring over fashion magazines, time seems to be running out at a frightfully brisk pace. perhaps i'm not studying the 'right' way.. hmm.

my stress level hasn't hit the roof - yet - but i forsee it soon will/will soon.

ahh... the life of an undergrad. ohmygah! it's weird referring to oneself as an 'undergrad' or saying the words 'i moved to uk to do my degree'. it feels so surreal.

it wasn't long ago that i managed to successfully infiltrate the 'adult' working world with my chirpy charms (i'd like to think/hope) as a style advisor>boredstiff merchandising coordinator>starving fashion intern> unfulfilled sales assistant>freelancer and not long before that, i was a crazy fashion design student zigzagging between tearing my hair out from frustration (mostly at sewing machines and/or attaching sleeves upside down) and losing my mind completely. rewind just a little bit; there i was, starting right at the beginning - a freshmen. again.

weird, isn't it?

i think the one person most pleased to learn (of) that piece of information would probably be my mother. that, and the fact that i've been getting to class on time. another exemplary illustration of the phrase "miracles can happen".

for someone who thrives on the practical side of life work and study, it astounds me to note that the past few weeks have consisted of: paris and the rise of haute couture. class differentiation and the bourgeoisie. la chambre syndicale de la confection et de la couture pour dames et filletes and the heirarchical separation of parisian establishments. the suffragettes (did you know the government forcefed them through tubes up their noses, usually inducing vomit, because they went on hunger strikes?) and the petticoat rebellion. the 'landgirls' and the women's movement in 1870. the post-war utility scheme.. etc

i swear to god, at first glance ".. distinct metropolitan cultures of consumption, both in the narrow sense of shops and shopping, and in the broader sense of the practices associated with the wearing of fashionable dress in the spaces of the city.. as the first city in an almost free-floating symbolic order of fashionability.. something approaching a naturalization of paris's relationship with fashion, often around the elevation of a certain construction of fashionable feminity to a symbol of parisian superiority." didn't make an iota of sense.

my reaction: what the *beep*

i had to read and reread it multiple times before the meaning sank in. i nearly drove myself insane attempting that book, which covered "fashion and the 'world city hypothesis' " and "fashion and the geographies of urban modernity" amongst other mind-boggling topics.

we had a guest lecturer in today, and he related a funny (personal) story to the class: he used to work at a PR firm with a tornado of a boss (read: force to be reckoned with. think anna wintour). one day, he was typing away busily, swinging his legs under his desk as he worked. now, their desks were separated by barely a metre of space, in which a rack of clothing was obstructing both their views. suddenly, he received an email: i need to see you at my desk at once. emergency!

he went over immediately (thinking the worst had happened). once there, the words that came out of her mouth were as follows: i don't pay to see you twitching your legs all day. or do i pay you to see you twitching your legs all day? after which, she calmly went back to replying emails.

how devil wears prada is that?!? unbefrickinlievable.