Welcome to my tiny little corner of the blogosphere, which I expect is just as tiny as my apartment, and also equally as colorful and inspiring, though hopefully not as plagued by dog hair. This, you foxy reader, is the fashionable essence of New York, this is about taking what we all do in a subconscious way and giving it a playful tap on the bum that suggests "hey you, fashion sense, and you over there, style, get up into the forefront of this mother, we're going people-watching". Yea, I said it, and I should probably state this from the get-go: I am not always the most appropriate person. I try my best, but common decency almost always gets vetoed in favor of a comedic gem, kind of like how most budgets get vetoed in favor of a new pair of kicks. I digress.
In a city like New York, I have found that while we truly enjoy the anonymity that being amongst the masses affords us and endeavor to maintain it by walking with a purpose and not generally making eye contact, we also simultaneously and fervently endeavor to stand out from said masses. Now, you might be thinking "Holy oxymoron, Batman! How do they balance on that razors edge?" and if you have to ask, you obviously don't live here, and I don't have the time to explain it here, so just...face value this one, doll. Thus, in our nonsensical attempts to be anonymously noticed, we New Yorkers have discovered a myriad of varying ways to style ourselves and to brand our signature look through either the amalgamation of several genres or the staunch marriage to a single one. These endeavors of the sartorial explorers in this city serve as what I like to call "Streetspiration" every time I leave my apartment. BUT, while it is all well and good that I make a point to compliment people on a sartorial job well done -- I told a confused Brazilian man in the subway yesterday how much I loved his rad leather button down though I think his streetspiration got lost in my translation..(that's what she said, see there it is again!) -- the real compliment comes from the emulation of that idea, the taking of the spirit of that outfit and injecting it into your own wardrobe, the translation.
The point here is to desensitize us from taking fashion risks, and to familiarize us with how we can give a nod to any genre of dress without betraying our own style. So that is what I am here to do, kiddo's, thats the experiment; I'll be taking pictures of people whose outfits inspire me and translating the spirit of it to what I have in my own wardrobe. I will also be taking submissions from you, the rad readers, with any Streetspiration you want to challenge me with (and I might even challenge you guys from time to time to see how differently we all interpret) , any Streetspiration that you have translated yourself (you little fox of a success story), or any questions, comments and concerns you may have, just send them on over to streetspiration.translation@gmail.com (I will try not to scare you in this process, but I can't promise anything).
Note: NOTHING is off limits here! If I or you or your aunt Mary are inspired by an Upper East Side dame, a Williamsburg bird, a Central Park breakdancer, a Union Square homeless man, a downtown punk with 4-inch spikes coming out of his shoulders, a dapper man with a bowtie in Chealsea, it is ALL FAIR GAME. Do your worst, I'll turn it into my best!
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