How I feel about Fashion School – 02

karl blog

MaxineTanner | September 11, 2015

I’m at the point in this semester where the public stereotype about people who work in fashion is coming to life. The amount of sass coming out of everyone’s mouths is off the charts. They may as well put their hand on their hip, and click their fingers as they swivel their head, at the end of every sentence. Don’t get me wrong we’re a pretty chill, down to earth bunch most days, but when you’ve got all this stress on your shoulders shit comes out unintentionally sassy. Or when that hippy wears fuchsia hot pants with no underwear to uni – you’re just asking for it.

I myself am guilty of throwing much unnecessary sass out there after a cocktail of sleepless nights, red bull and sewing. When it was suggested that my fellow classmates and I have a break and get the usual fix of vanilla coke to power us through the day I responded with no words, just a condescending stare and ‘pffft’. An extremely sassy exhale of air that came across as if to say ‘a vanilla coke, really? Do you need it? Do you not see the signs in the corridor that read ‘Do not feed the fashion students’? Do you not see your Kim K behind backing up into the lifts every morning? Do you not know that Karl Lagerfeld only drinks diet coke? I mean if you’re going to destroy your body at least do it with a little style for gods sakes.’

Or like that quiet girl with the really laid back Rick Owens-esque style, that only ever speaks when spoken to, out of the blue confronts you for talking in the library, asking you point blank ‘Ah, what do you think you’re doing?’, probably trying to channel her inner ice cube, after watching straight outta Compton on the weekend. But girl you cannot pull off those black MC Hammer pants.

Or that one girl who always gives you backhanded compliments like ‘Oh my god I love your jacket, it looks uh-mazing! It just would have looked so much better if you had actually fitted the lining in properly.’ And you just want to slap the sass right out of her.

Or that one guy who you ask a question and he just purses his lips like that scene in ‘The Devil wears Prada’, eyes like daggers staring you in the face as if to say ‘surely you did not just ask me that’, only ever speaks in monotone ‘uhmmmmmmmm’-s and lifts his hand while talking as if he’s about to break into Queen Bey’s single ladies.

He is handed the bouquet and sash and crowned the sass queen.

[ Credits: Words by Maxine Tanner, Illustration by me. ]

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