The gods of fashion speak every season.
They tell us what to wear and sometimes what not.
They help us craft artificial self-esteem:
we feel cool with ourselves
because we’re wearing that that they’ve prescribed for the day.
Declaring what to trend,
they ask us to sync with what’s trending
— feeding their fame and fortune.
But we have taken the red pill.
I still like my two-button, and not overly fitted, suits.
That one-button suits, with fitted fitting, are in now, will soon pass.
And for what? I would not try to tell.
We leave that for the gods of fashion.
Because their fashions are fickle, are the gods not fickle.
Trusted to be arbiters of style,
we give them power:
if we have to bother about how to wear ourselves
as they describe for winter, fall, spring, or summer.
You can’t beat the decent and the sensible, can you.
Principles the gods of fashion cannot overrule, by principle.
Some follow these, others try to redefine the fine.
Many claim a variable morality;
variable by the seasons, ‘artists’ whims, and volitional caprices.
Beauty makes sense.
And crazy isn’t beautiful.
It can’t be, by design.
