Fashion. It’s not a thing I understand.
This is why, when I read fiction, I find myself taking to Google. I find myself typing in strange, mysterious terms such as ‘tea dress’ or ‘examples of vintage clothing.’
For all that I can know about literature – I can tell you about various plays or novels and make connections between Der Sandmann and Pygmalion, but I can’t picture what different dresses look like. I’m the first to admit that I don’t know a damned thing about fashion. Every so often I go shopping. I will be scathing about the colours or the style or the fabric, and then I will buy T-shirts with simple designs on them. I wear jeans and, if I’m feeling really adventurous, I’ll wear a skirt.
Still, I don’t understand the appeal of a ‘fishnet’ skirt (I think that’s what it’s called) or overly-jagged hems. I stick to pages of fictional text, because they’re what I understand.
In the meantime, understanding fashion will be a little hobby.