Growing up in Boca Raton, Florida (as fashionable as the city may think it is) seriously stunted for some time my fantastical fashion capabilities and lead me through a childhood believing that Fendi was nothing more than a small bag retailer. Now before all of my Boca readers flip their shit let me explain…

Boca Raton in its infinite “style” redundancy has a way of turning even the most tacky designer goods into over popularized highly sought after shit… Growing up every girl aged 10-17 toted their parents’ plastic inside tiny LVMH monogrammed pouches, every middle aged woman was spotted at the Boca Beach Club with her Morikami Speedy in tow, and every dad, husband and adulterer could be found footing the bill. Having spent a full month over the summer in Boca, I know for a fact that right now the tons of fake tits walking through Town Center still have no idea that Louis Vuitton is highly capable and quite successful at producing so much more than luggage and handbags; and that just because everyone has something doesn’t mean its attractive nor does it make an item worth purchasing (think back to the cherry covered Louis’ and the crayon colored Coach C’s.. totally tacky and yet all over the place). And perhaps I am being a bit harsh to my native hometown and we should forgive them, for Juicy Couture terry has clogged their ears for years and Chanel quilts cover their eyes, but I am cut throat and feel no sympathy for a town this bombastic…

I have a real problem with the fact that popularized best sellers make notorious bland silhouettes and overshadow the true intricacy of a designers craft (remember the DVF wrap debacle?). The constant repudiation of one bag, one sweatsuit, one bad blonde dye job after the next prevents even the most discerning of fashionistas to ever think that a true sense of style actually exists outside of these tropes; which is why they don’t and only perpetuates the cycle. Because for the majority of individuals in this world, what you see and hear on a daily basis shapes your belief system as to what constitutes normalcy, in so much to say that the repetitious fashion you see on a daily basis, whether attractive or not, because of their overwhelming presence in your life have become well fashionable. And although this is not a new concept, we’ve seen one ugly trend after the next in nearly all parts of the world (so I guess you’re off the hook Boca), it still doesn’t bode well with me.

And were this not the case, women’s studies, sociology and media courses would stop spending so much time and effort trying to re-shape our culturally constructed ideals of normality. Scholars would wave their white flags in submission to their refuted ideas that our constant exposure to singular normatives in society preclude our ability to recognize endless forms of humanity as the norm, or exist devoid of one; albeit fashion, beauty, religion, sexuality etc.

And it’s a good thing I left the sunny south (not once but twice), where along with the millions of wrinkled raisins each year, individuality comes to die; or I may never have known a sublimely stylish life existed outside of my childhood singularity. Six years ago, and then again six months ago, I left the beach for city streets and said goodbye to like minded style sense (except maybe for Williamsburg). Oh, and I also stopped asking Fendi who?

Fendi, 677 Fifth Ave, 212.759.6464
Images courtesy of Style.com