i heart fluorscence/ buzz is a buzz kill

Lovin

So, it starts with our love of all things vintage, whether out of honest appreciation or of recognizing their hilarity. But eventually these two motivations become really blurred and you’re really not sure whether you think something is ridiculously hideous but funny to wear, or if you whole heartedly think its amazing. This gray area is my favorite.

This is where the obsession with that late eighties, early nineties fluo mad shit starts off. Mix in a little nostalgia for the three-tiered skirts in that unspecifiable synthetic material that I was rocking as a 4 year old, a shit-load of acid-wash and my uncontrollable, Pavlov-like attraction to bright colours and its full-blown. Sweet for me cause I’ve be got that direct vintage access, and now I’m head to toe in wildness and lovin it, eat your heart out.

Hatin

But of course the trend is right around the corner, the media starts using the word ‘rave’ (which helped to kill the rave scene in the middle of the nineties, classifying anybody full of plastic beads, wide pants, and pixie cuts) but now donotes that embrassing part of your past whos pics make you shudder. Then Rolling Stone Magazine tacked on the ‘NU’ *puke* when referring to The Klaxons, who are really just The Strokes on E. ‘Nu-rave’ as a term is born. Then the leach-like fashion industry uses the term for a few fashion editorials in a few magazines and the look has been branded.

All the attention and labeling, whether it’s accurate or not, just gives handles to any advertising desk-guy, or Stitches trend-spotter. Creating neat packaging for people and scenes, which are, in reality, anything but. And all we can do is watch all of our quirky obsessions multiply, becoming more and more popular and main stream, get exploited until the whole basement floor of the Eaton’s centre is serving it up, and all our dreams are in the gutter.

Lovin

So it’s a little dramatic, but it always happens. Nu- rave fun isn’t quite dead yet though, as long as the Neon Plastix are still playin, and my mom still teases me about my fanny-pacs, it’s still going strong in my closet.