Thread bare.

Thread bare.

This weekend, Erik and I walked to the San Diego Aerospace Museum (in the furthest possible corner of Balboa Park from us, grumble grumble grumble) for the annual Thread Show, a consortium of fashion/style/accessory/music/food/coffee stuff. We got ourselves on the early bird list, so we only had to pay $5. Thank all that is holy we didn't pay any more than that.

I had heard that Korova coffee would be there, my mostfavoritest coffee shop, but all they had were giant pots of drip-brewed coffee that you had to pay for. Pshaw. The DJ was pretty good, granted, but the sum total of the experience was so limp.

Centered in the arena's stage, as well as at a smattering of pedestals around the floor, were these "models." They were dressed in various designers' best fares, and holding signs. The outfits were fine. A little over-trendy, but generally fine. But the hair and makeup? Holy god. It was like the makeup artists were trying to out-catwalk the catwalk. Aerosolled hair sticking out yards in various directions! Intentional frizz! Green streaky eyeshadow! Golden foundation!

Come on.

Clearly, we all know that San Diego is so the new Milan, but let's not ruin ourselves trying to inflict that opinion on others. They'll come around.

What is fashion these days, anyway, other than frantic mimics of whatever the supposed it girls are wearing, plus outlandish hair and makeup? And where do the it girls get their material? Other it girls. Everyone in attendance at the show was dressed exactly the same. (With the notable exception of this sweet boy wearing cut-off 4" inseam daisy dukes and athletic socks peeking out of the top of his mid-calf cowboy boots.) Everyone else, however, looked like they were just copying whatever Sienna Miller or Nicole Richie or one of the other barbies were wearing in the last issue of People. They all had the same tapered leg dirty-look jeans with metalic-looking flats and layered long tanks and fat wooden bangle bracelets and layers of scarf-y things. You can't just add green eyeshadow and towering hair frizz to that and pretend it's some great beacon in the fashion world.

That's not style. That's doing what someone else is doing. Style can be inspired, sure. But a carbon copy doesn't involve any imagination, any uniqueness, or anything really that daring. Please note that I'm far from being daring or imaginative with my own fashion, but these people claim style, whereas I, on the other hand, fully admit to shopping at the mall sale racks.

Ergo, it was pretty disappointing and my maryjanes gave me an ugly blister on the walk home. Stupid fashion show.