So, yesterday I was catching up on House of Glam and I had an epiphany. You see for a while I truly questioned the validity and necessity of a stylist, well at least the one’s that I had come across in Atlanta. Then, it finally hit me! The reason why I had this resentment towards the parades of people that claimed to be stylist is that they were doing it all wrong. I was tired of seeing photoshoots with girls in tutus and converse sneakers and I was tired of going to fashion show meetings only to hear the coordinators talk about pulling clothes from each others closets (true story) for models that were in no way borderline malnourished or anorexic to walk in. It seemed as if a majority of the stylists in Atlanta were giving me Rip the Runway with Nelly singing “Tip Drill” as the thickest of video vixens walked the runway, when what I ordered was high fashion couture, and well thought out concepts with a side of bulimic girls. My meal was being served on a cheap paper plate and quite frankly I wanted a refund.
Everyone has an innate style in them. The girl who is a dreamer more then likely has a closet full of empire waist, bohemian flowery prints and dreamy silks while the kid who is into structured and avant garde probably has a closet with a shit load of padded shoulders and the oddest assortments of prints. Does it make sense that someone would hire a stylist only to put them in looks of which the aesthetic they fit everyday and help them pick out pieces that they already own in a different color. It’s like me hiring a hair stylist to curl my already curly hair. If I’m paying you, I want a flat iron, steam treatment and a trim.
I have always loved fashion, because it sells to you a dream. As humans we always have this thing that we do where we doze off and in these moments of daydreaming we see ourselves in the 3.0 version, even though we are still in the 2.0 stage. Fashion is fashion for the ability that it puts that 3.0 version of you in a package and then sells it to you. At my 2.0 version, I wear knock off Louboutins, tailored structured harem pants, and faux leather jackets, but in my 3.0 daydreams I see myself wearing pieces from the latest Alexander McQueen collection, toting the most luxurious of leather bags and shoes that Beyonce would be jealous of.
If I hire a stylist, then their job is to take me as close to the 3.0 version as possible. And of course, problems of funding may come up, but that is where the fun begins. What person wouldn’t want to go on a sunday morning thrift store raid or a Bloomingdale’s outing with their stylist to pick out Queen Elizabeth inspired dresses in an effort to mimic the latest Alexander McQueen collection, and finish off with a visit to Steve Madden which is the warehouse of knock offs for the middle class. And if I do have the funds, I want a stylist that is so good at their job that they have cultivated relationships with different designers and boutiques so that when I go out for an event I’m wearing the craziest pieces buy the most talented and fame destroyed designer that, oh I don’t know sews with their toes or some other crazy but extraordinary feat.
I’m tired of stylist thinking that their job is to nod their heads when I pick up a shirt in a color that I already have and think their genius when they come up with a concept that isn’t even that grand. And I’m even more tired of people who worked two weeks at Urban Outfitters or Charlotte Russe tell me that they use to dress mannequins with this belief that they have the right skills to become a stylist. Honey, you spent two weeks dressing mannequins that were flat in the front like Ken or wait even better…groping mannequins as you clumsily dressed them in pre laid out concepts from the home office and you have the audacity to tell me that your a stylist. I’m not buying it and I’m sure as hell not hiring you to dress me.