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Egads! What Dashing Bling!
Oct. 5th, 2005 10:35 pmGot me a cool pair of earrings from the street fair. They’re made entirely of wood, even the studs, which are separate from the main piece. The main bit loops around your lobe with a hole on either stud, and the idea is to drive the wooden pin through to secure them. Works great if you can aim, but it also meant that my ear got thoroughly raped and battered before I managed to get it all fixed up.
Hole punching seems to be having a big surge in popularity amongst people I know, much like pirates are suddenly popular everywhere. (And since I was writing pirate stories long before they resurged in coolness, that makes me cutting edge, right?) We would not fit in on the BYU campus by a long shot. Liz, who is the sort of person who sees a flash picture of a puffin and decides then and there to get it tattooed on her arm,* somehow made it almost 20 years without pierced ears, and she now plans to rectify that. Emily wants a second set. Brita wants a nose stud, and is contemplating practicing with a magnetic one. Her official title in the Dashing Bling Posse is, in fact, the Regency Nose Stud Ho. I don’t blame her; I’ve always liked nose rings, though my allergies prevent me from getting one because, let’s face it, the last thing I need during ragweed season is another hole in my nose or anything blockin’ the airways. My favorite is Afshan’s, which is a big sparkly set right where the flare meets the bridge. It’s like the best beauty mark ever. I’ve also always been a big fan of the Giant Indian Bling ~ y’know, the nose pendant that hangs like a Baroque Christmas ornament and connects to an earring with a chain; that is absolutely badass.
But as far as I’m concerned, the best body adornment idea I’ve heard recently is Cody’s. He wants a little, discreet tattoo, and its design is brilliant. A small, simple image of: the Super Mario Bros.’ hats. Fantastic. It fits his style.
I’ve told people that I don’t think much about style. This is a lie. Of course I think about style ~ fer cryin’ out loud, this summer I joined Mom in late-night viewings What Not To Wear. (The BBC version. The American one sucks.) But my idea of “style” is different from a lot of other people’s. In Eugene, you see a lot of folks in a desperate attempt to Stand Out From The Crowd, looking as though they equate the worth of a human being with creativity and originality in self-adornment. Others seem as though they have gotten all their fashion tips out of one of those 1950s health class propaganda movies, updating it just slightly, and thus they are holding up the middle-class American image. And even the ones who look like they don’t care about their appearance usually have carefully cultivated that aura.
But there is a healthy dose (certainly more than in Utah) of people like me here, who enjoy a personal style that is, well, personal. People who may wear shalwar qameez one day, and a camel-colored duster, a velour Greek hat, and cowboy boots the next, but who always have a flair for the interesting. We try to look good, but we don’t necessarily try to look weird or normal. We see something and think, “Dude! That would look cool! I must have that!” And then we mix a lot of those somethings together into a strange, eclectic, but interesting outfit that we like, that may fit with a group or may not, but which definitely gives off an image.
I guess when I say I don’t think about style, what I mean is that I don’t worry too much about what is in style. I don’t go in for fashion, but if the current fashion matches my style, then hell, I’m all for it. I like to look good. And dammit, I do. I know what I like. And I like these earrings, even if it’s tough to put them on.
I am stylin'.
*Thus spending more money than originally planned and almost not having enough for a cab ride home.
Hole punching seems to be having a big surge in popularity amongst people I know, much like pirates are suddenly popular everywhere. (And since I was writing pirate stories long before they resurged in coolness, that makes me cutting edge, right?) We would not fit in on the BYU campus by a long shot. Liz, who is the sort of person who sees a flash picture of a puffin and decides then and there to get it tattooed on her arm,* somehow made it almost 20 years without pierced ears, and she now plans to rectify that. Emily wants a second set. Brita wants a nose stud, and is contemplating practicing with a magnetic one. Her official title in the Dashing Bling Posse is, in fact, the Regency Nose Stud Ho. I don’t blame her; I’ve always liked nose rings, though my allergies prevent me from getting one because, let’s face it, the last thing I need during ragweed season is another hole in my nose or anything blockin’ the airways. My favorite is Afshan’s, which is a big sparkly set right where the flare meets the bridge. It’s like the best beauty mark ever. I’ve also always been a big fan of the Giant Indian Bling ~ y’know, the nose pendant that hangs like a Baroque Christmas ornament and connects to an earring with a chain; that is absolutely badass.
But as far as I’m concerned, the best body adornment idea I’ve heard recently is Cody’s. He wants a little, discreet tattoo, and its design is brilliant. A small, simple image of: the Super Mario Bros.’ hats. Fantastic. It fits his style.
I’ve told people that I don’t think much about style. This is a lie. Of course I think about style ~ fer cryin’ out loud, this summer I joined Mom in late-night viewings What Not To Wear. (The BBC version. The American one sucks.) But my idea of “style” is different from a lot of other people’s. In Eugene, you see a lot of folks in a desperate attempt to Stand Out From The Crowd, looking as though they equate the worth of a human being with creativity and originality in self-adornment. Others seem as though they have gotten all their fashion tips out of one of those 1950s health class propaganda movies, updating it just slightly, and thus they are holding up the middle-class American image. And even the ones who look like they don’t care about their appearance usually have carefully cultivated that aura.
But there is a healthy dose (certainly more than in Utah) of people like me here, who enjoy a personal style that is, well, personal. People who may wear shalwar qameez one day, and a camel-colored duster, a velour Greek hat, and cowboy boots the next, but who always have a flair for the interesting. We try to look good, but we don’t necessarily try to look weird or normal. We see something and think, “Dude! That would look cool! I must have that!” And then we mix a lot of those somethings together into a strange, eclectic, but interesting outfit that we like, that may fit with a group or may not, but which definitely gives off an image.
I guess when I say I don’t think about style, what I mean is that I don’t worry too much about what is in style. I don’t go in for fashion, but if the current fashion matches my style, then hell, I’m all for it. I like to look good. And dammit, I do. I know what I like. And I like these earrings, even if it’s tough to put them on.
I am stylin'.
*Thus spending more money than originally planned and almost not having enough for a cab ride home.
