Having been raised as a Catholic, the shallow man in his maturing years (well to be fair I’m still rather immature) finds it hard to escape years of religious indoctrination and still refers to many experiences using the theological terminology forced on him during his youth.
The shallow man has a clear idea of certain elements of life that if, due to too much time partying, socialising and other activities, will be used by the devil to taunt me throughout eternity.
Shallow man Hell
If due to my misdeeds, I end up in hell, I am 100% convinced that it will be full of women in blue jeans, Ugg boots and leopard skin tops whose hair will be permanently wet. Every lunchtime I’ll be forced to sit at a table next to a group of such women who will shout loudly at the top of their voices while smoking and checking their smartphones every five seconds. The only thing available to eat will be bitterballen, Stamppot and Boerenkool and the only tea served will be produced by Liptons.
For this reason, even though the shallow man has avoided the church for many years, I’ll contemplate changing my ways so that I can end up in shallow man heaven, which brings me to the subject of today’s post. Due to the popularity of this blog and my secondary role as a roving lifestyle reporter for various publications, the shallow man has been fortunate enough to have been invited to attend several events at Amsterdam Fashion Week. I will write a frank assessment of my experiences there, and if as a result, I’m pursued by a bunch of angry fashion darlings, and am air kissed and complimented about what I’m wearing until I die of boredom, I’ll look at my fashionable tormentors and say “darling, that outfit is so last year.” The things I do for my readers!
Amsterdam Fashion Week, shallow man heaven
Heaven can be found in many places, for example, the joy of selecting material for a new three-piece suit from Pakkend my tailor of choice in Amsterdam. Running along the Amstel on a Sunday afternoon wearing my Dr Dre Beats headphones while listening to the works of John Coltrane, or doing interesting things with ice cubes on the body of a beautiful woman.
The shallow man loves fashion, and sometimes when in the Netherlands feels likes a refugee from an island of good taste, adrift in a country where being fashionable is almost verboten, where Brown shoes with anything are King, and Denim is Queen. So it was refreshing to be in the heart of the fashion beast in the Netherlands, Amsterdam Fashion Week.
At last, an overdose of style
Everyone has their own idea of what constitutes good taste, what I absolutely loved about the events I attended was the huge array of styles on display. High heels, feathers, leather trousers on Antelopes, bold colours, great combinations, outfits that screamed out loud, “hey look at me, I’m an individual and I’m proud!”
Instead of the usual cacophony of colour that I’m used to seeing out and about in Amsterdam, the events were full of people who actually took the time to coordinate their outfits. Although I’m not usually a fan of the colour purple (not the book by Alice Walker or the film) one of the best combinations I saw during fashion week was a lady that wore purple hotpants combined with a hat and shoes of the same colour. Nothing too complicated, just a simple matching of colours that created a unique and attractive look.
Please feed the Antelope
One of the perplexing ironies about the fashion industry is that generally speaking they make clothes for normal women, and yet the Antelope chosen to model the clothes are absolutely not representative of womanhood. At the sight of some of the strutting collection of skeletons who were “modelling”, the shallow man had the urge to run out to the nearest FEBO and force feed some of these women some deep fried delicacies.
I’m not suggesting that the ladies modelling at such events should be overweight, but there has to be a happy medium between the shapeless ironing boards on legs and what passes for average sized women. Cloth on a stick just doesn’t look good, but hey I’m an industry outsider so obviously “don’t get it.” The shapelessness of some of the models totally distracted me, and all I could think about was how few calories a day they must be consuming. The fashion industry needs a firm kick up its skinny butt for continuing to use women that are borderline anorexic as models.
That aside attended some good parties and met some wonderful people, so overall a positive experience that I’d highly recommend to anyone that is interested in fashion.
No air kissing luvvies were hurt during the writing of this article.
Till next time, models, please eat a decent meal.