As evidenced in my [many] un/sent letters to Oprah, President Obama, the makers of Lays Potato Chips, both print and online newspapers, in addition to the comment section of the various blogs I fancy, let’s just say for argument’s sake, that I am prone to rather large pronouncements.
If I “love” you, I love you with my whole heart, if I simply “like” you, I like the best about you, and if through my extra-sensory scorpion receptors, I “sense” that you don’t “like” me [we Scorps are extra-feely, extra passion-y types], well then, I feel no ways about reciprocating that dislike, and I’m off you faster than you can say “wrong move.” Still, I tend to have a sixth sense about “things”—I see dis/honest people—and my head and my heart are inextricably linked. I’ll say right up front that what affects me “intellectually” usually affects me “emotionally” and try as I might, there is no fixing this condition.
As you might have deduced, given the urgency of my recent tweeting, I’ve had this intense, personal, and somewhat public dis/affection for Fashion. To me, it’s like the giant elephant in the room, but seeing as though no “sane” person would use the words “elephant” and “fashion” in the same sentence, let’s just call it a Snake, you know, as in The Garden of Eden.
Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure how or when this rage//rant concerning Fashion came about. Suffice it to say that it happened whilst perusing the myriad fashion blogs on the internet. I kinda got my FILL of following “amateurish” 30something fashion bloggers taking too-close a cue from “stylish” 20something fashion bloggers taking too-close a cue from street teenagers emulating Britney Spears emulating Taylor Momsen emulating Lindsay Lohan, wanting to be The Olsen Twins, emulating that youth-sucking media machine AKA, Holly’weird. And if I see one more blog of a mildly attractive white girl posing, posing, posing in what she thinks is style/fashion for umpteen entries, with little or nothing in the way of meaningful textual information beyond the “this is me before I got sloshed” featuring the uninspired, yet oddly ubiquitous: “this is me in my Naughty Girl Crotch Pose,” I’m going to hurl the contents of my liquid lunch.
Still, “legitimate” Fashion blogs/street sites and online pubs are the first majah radar stop with respect to immediate information regarding new trends, current happenings–according to Fashionologie, “it’s a good time to be a Chinese model”– and all the must have it Stylista news that’s fit to print. Just ask Anna Wintour [or Tavi, The Style Rookie]. There are many notable gems out there. Many of them with superb editorial content as well as that leading edge Fashion-y Fashion that we all want and crave. These Stylista Bloggistas certainly don’t need my endorsement to underscore that point. Still, call me old school, but nothing beats holding a behemoth of a fashion mag in your hands and flipping from page to page to page to page…
Personally-speaking, I like my fashion served straight-up with a generous helping of intellectualism, a dollop of whimsy, together with equal portions of creativity, originality plus fantasy, culminating in a heretofore inexpressible intangibility. Purist, thorough-bred fashion—whatever that is—for fashion’s sake, which is some respects keeps fashion “safe”— is not interesting to me. As a result, the awesome thing about the ‘net is that you can find a virtual smorgasbord from which to tickle your fancy. But as mentioned, the pickings vary wildly.
And so I swiftly took to the Twittersphere un/ceremoniously “dumping” on all of the Fashion blogs that I perceived to be lacking in form, content and substance, as if I had some personal stake in what was being offered. It wasn’t that difficult. There was/is a lot of cheese to choose from.
After that exercise, I felt I needed more. Purging, so to speak, does leave one slightly unsatisfied. I knew that Halle Berry was on the cover of September Vogue magazine having learned earlier on Twitter that her appearance marked something like the 5th time in over 116 years that a Black woman had graced its cover. Shelby Knox, the young white feminist writer had done a breakdown of the pathetically embarrassing stats, and comments were swift and unrelenting. Cool I thought, it isn’t “just me.” Read what Jezebel also has to say.
I then proceeded to buy three September Issues of fashion magazines—a relatively small sampling considering what is out there, but I wasn’t conducting a scientific experiment here, I was simply looking at pretty fashion pictures preparing to be seduced by all things girly and sweet. In order, I purchased Elle, Vogue, and Flare magazines. All three didn’t necessarily “disappoint” per se. Actually, it was my Elle purchase that prompted my Twitter breakdown and I decided that Asian Canadian Joe Zee was personally responsible/accountable for the lack of diversity.
That said, when one takes a cursory newsstand glance with respect to girth, substance, style and editorial content, you too will note that Vogue wins out. Elle runs a close second, and Flare, a disappointing and distant third. My reason for choosing Flare is because I am Canadian and it hails itself as “Canada’s Fashion Authority.” I have never subscribed to Flare, or Elle or Vogue. I buy them when it strikes my fancy, particularly if I like the editorial. Not just fashion editorial, but overall information editorial as well. If it has these two ingredients, then I consider it a Win. Remember now. I can get my fill of fashion eye-candy and info on the ‘net. For Free Ninety-Nine. I therefore assume that the printed fashion pubs will show and tell me what’s good. And make it all worth my precious time and money. Dig?
“September is the January in Fashion”
Consequently, as with all the Januaries of our years, the September issue [of Vogue, and any other fashion publication for that matter] comes with Great Expectation, and even greater Anticipation. The expectation that the fashion tone of your year will be set, and has been set in print and image, writ large. Any questions or queries or misgivings you may have about what to do, who to do, and what to wear whilst doing it— for the “beginning” of the fashion year, as it were, you need not fret because, the “Fashion Bible” as it is called in some circles, should be your go-to resource guide henceforth. Lastly, if you know nothing else of Fashion, and I’ll respectfully dis/believe you, if you don’t mind, you must at the very least cop to knowing that “September is the January of Fashion.” That’s a direct quote from the woman with the fake British accent in the Anna Wintour Vogue magazine “September Issue” movie. And she should know. So don’t argue.
But let’s be very clear here. The Grand Dame of fashion is American Vogue, helmed by none other than the beautiful British fashion Ice Queen herself, Ms. Anna Wintour. But don’t get it twisted. We are talking about one of this century’s most revered and inspired, sometimes reviled, creative geniuses. And if you think that fashion is all about fluff and filler, I respectfully submit that you should “fuck-off,” and think again. I daresay, I could attempt to get into the whys and wherefores as to the particular artistry and je ne sais quoi of Vogue magazine’s pop culture appeal, but that would be like breaking down The Oprah Factor in tidy digestible morsels and I have neither the skill, interest, nor the inclination to explain that in this post. Plus, yawn, forgive me, I’m a little bit bored with the Oprah Oeuvre. “Next customer please” as they say at McDonalds…
Cool.
Keeping Score
Now that we’ve covered ALL that, here’s where a little score-card action might come in handy. And if you still claim to know nothing else about fashion, other than that little stint where that disgusting brat and [s]pawn of a pathetic Mother, Lindsay Lohan “guest”-designed the Ungaro collection much to the snickering delight of the fashion cognoscenti, then I have absolutely no sympathy for you, particularly if you cannot spot the different between a jegging and a legging. Keep UP, please.
So, as mentioned I’m keeping score on Vogue, Elle, and Flare magazines. I like Flare because Fashion Director Elizabeth Cabral is wicked talented. She was photographed by and appears in The Sartorialist. Her pairings say effortless rock n’ roll chic, and who doesn’t want to look sexy, stylish and effortless? She makes it happen and should the American pubs choose to snap her up, I wouldn’t be surprised. I choose Vogue, because Vogue will always speak for itself, and requires no editorializing from me, except I’m going there, ‘cuz that’s how I roll. And American Elle. J’adore Elle. Elle is the original chronicler of the rock n’ roll priestess. At least it was for me. When I lived in France, I loved French Elle. It was playful and sexy and had that French flair. But this is America, and 25 fun-filled years later, Elle has created an American swagger, in that oh so distinct American way that was/is hard to beat.
“Do You Really Think This is The Most Important Message to Put In the September Issue?”
Witness the scene from the last 20 seconds of the trailer of The September Issue clip where Anna Wintour is sitting with two editors going through the editorial content. She has the magazine draft in front of her and as she flicks through its glossy pages she looks up and says to the two women: “Do You Really Think This is The Most Important Message to Put In the September Issue?” Which brings me to the issue I have with Flare magazine’s general editorial. In a [few] word[s], it sucks. Like it’s shockingly bad. Let me explain:
When I picked up my Vogue September issue I could read about cover feature Halle Berry [pg 648]; a story about Women who are also Mothers who work on the front lines in the military by Elizabeth Rubin [pg 380], a well-written expose by Julia Reed on BP Oil [pg 352], a story by Marcia DeSanctis about Activist Ophelia Dahl and her work to help rebuild Haiti [pg 448]; a story by Robert Sullivan about a new drug for people with MS [pg 556], and on it goes. Here’s the scorecard: A-List advertising for the first 100+pages, check; gorgeous fashion editorial, check; relevant, interesting and timely features editorial, check. Grade: A+ | Diversity Grade: D
Elle magazine gives you a much different fashion perspective/POV. While Vogue is the fashionable older sister, Elle is her hipper, younger more street-stylish sister. Don’t get me wrong, Vogue is ever much the stylish trend-setter, but Elle has its nose and ear firmly pressed to the ground and cares very much about youth/popular culture. They feature quite prominently on The City for goodness sake and prior to that on The Hills! When I peruse through the September issue of Elle magazine, I get a full length feature on America’s sweetheart Julia Roberts, the “star” [I loathe that term] of the biggest chic flic book turned movie turned marketing machine [don’t get me started], Eat, Pray Love. [pg472], plus not one, but 3 fashion spreads of her photographed by 3 famed and different photographers; in the “Table of Contents” on page 154, I get the usual info, but interestingly a smartly written book review, yes a book review, in addition to something called “Hot Content.” Let’s just say that not only does Elle capture the attention of our collective ADHD very well, it seems to move right along with what is relevant in a deliberate way. So while Vogue clearly has the first pick, cream of the crop, also known as the elite in designer advertorial, Elle runs a close second with its ads that showcase a more youthful modern line. And even mo’better, not one to rest on its laurels, it took out its own promotion page called Elle: Evolved “launching the next generation: ELLE for the iPad. Is this genius or what?
I like Roberta Myers Editor’s Letter. It’s warm, it feels personal, and she rambles, which I like. Amongst the well-written emerging and current fashion people profiles, one written by Canada’s own Katrina Onstad [pg234], there’s a shocking article that provides the kind of follow up material one looks for in culture-making headline material in the story of the American psychologist woman who falsely cried rape due to taking prescribed doses of testosterone; plus other stuff that keeps you in the know. If nothing else, Elle should pride itself on that. Here’s a breakdown: Elle Style A to Zee with Asian Canadian creative director Joe Zee [pg214]; Elle Fashion Insider featuring the creators of Opening Ceremony written by Ariel Levy [pg 226]; Elle Intelligence [pg361] featuring movies, culture reviews, books; Elle 25 [pg373] which features culture making news. Grade: A+ | Diversity Grade: D
The point? Elle is well-organized, and carefully considered, like Vogue. It’s compartmentalized in such a perfect way that keeps you heading back to either review an interesting story, or to find the shop they listed for that perfect bracelet. You get the sense that Roberta Myers and her team rested at nothing to bring us the goods. You get the feeling that like any insane creative offering, she didn’t stop until she achieved fashion nirvana. There’s a reason that publications like Vogue and Elle breathe, and a reason why Flare doesn’t.
How Flare Rates
Where Elle is at, is where Flare needs to be, the absence of a consistent display of Cultural Diversity, notwithstanding. At the very least, Flare “should” aspire to achieve what Elle has achieved. The thing about Flare is that it lacks a point of view. Not only does it suffer from a fashion personality disorder, but it is so overwhelmingly self-conscious in that too-polite Canadian way such that it crudely sustains the “fashion is credible metaphor” without any real material to back it up. I know, ouch. Sure, they’ve got the A List models, I mean, what model or actress wouldn’t want to be on the cover of a publication with a sustainable readership even though according to a recent article reported by the Globe and Mail, the “majority of Canadian magazines are seeing a circulation decline.” Yes, it’s got kick-ass fashion direction thanks to Elizabeth Cabral, but that is not enough. Or is it?
While Elle and Vogue and Harper’s put multimillion dollar actresses on the cover for their September issue, Flare decided to go with the “big boobed” Victoria’s Secret model, Doutzen Kroes boasting an “Exclusive A-List Angel” cover story with material that opens with the cover model’s diet description [pg 169]. Really Flare? You get an exclusive, and you think it’s important to begin the exclusive with what the girl eats? Elsewhere, Flare editor Lisa Tant writes that the bombshell has returned. No such “report” could be found in Elle or Vogue. Didn’t Flare get the memo? Or did they just make it up because there wasn’t anything else “relevant” to write about with respect to Canadian culture? Yawn. Doutzen is gorgeous, but big whup?! She’s got boobs and she’s hot. Next!
Other stories include the suffocatingly, self-reflexive first person account of a move to New York by Toronto native Hannah Sung on page 154. The first line reads, “Telling people of my impending move to New York, I was met with the same two words every time: “I’m jealous.” If this isn’t enough information to make a reader flip quickly to the end of the magazine and search for the nearest Elle/fashion editorial, I don’t know what is. The writer doesn’t tell us who she is, why we should care, why she might be relevant to our lives, but more importantly, why the hell she’s moving to New York! In the gorgeous pretty/sarcastic words–she used to be a fashion model, you know– of Calgary-based Canadian TwitterStar Kelly Oxford, “… bragging about living in NYC after you escape your small town is the most small town thing you can do.” I rest my case.
A few pages over on page 156, Rachel Giese writes about mean/girl bullying. This article belongs on the side lines of a daily newspaper such that the “story” could be summed up in two paragraphs or less. It has no business being a featured article, occupying what could be precious fashion real estate. The opening begins with a story about the experience of 26 year old girl writer, Dana Lacey. I’ve never heard of Dana Lacey before. A quick google of her name yields a blog of her freelance creative work, but the article doesn’t suggest why we might find her interesting other than she was a ‘victim’ of jealousy bullying. At the end of the article, there is a poll type paragraph bolded in black in which you can see if you fit into the 3 situations that are opportunities to experience mean girl/bullying. There is no suggestion that a psychologist specializing in bullying wrote these scenarios. Rather one might assume that the author herself might have created the scenarios based on personal experience.
To wit, under the AT SOCIAL EVENTS category it reads: “Whatever the get-together…you tend to dominate the conversation.” [Me: Last time, I checked, the person who “dominates” a conversation is usually the most comfortable with public speaking, and generally has the “confidence” to do so. If you don’t like the conversation, start one of your own!]. Under, the AT WORK category, the scenario reads: “You let an intern take the blame from someone else for a deadline that you missed.” [Me: Last time I checked, interns are the grunts of the office, and it is their “responsibility” to take all the abuse humanely possible without jeopardizing their career or anyone else’s. That said, nobody is ever going to believe a person who "blames" an intern, given their complete an utter low, unpaid status on the totem pole. You feel me?]. Lastly in the AMONG FRIENDS category: “You purposely ‘forget’ to invite one of the key friends in your circle when you make plans to hang out.” [Me: What the hell is a “key friend?” And what criteria is this based upon? People do genuinely "forget" to do alot of things, does that mean they are bullies and mean girls because they do so?].
Get with it Flare. Is this what you call September Issue material? Hasn’t the subject of mean-girling been done to death? [I even wrote my own post about Mean Girls months ago]. You decide.
But the biggest letdown of all is that Canada’s Fashion Authority is sadly anything but. Canada, Toronto specifically, is the second most culturally diverse city next to Amsterdam. We don’t support a “melting pot” mentality, rather we encourage, boast and pride ourselves on being racially diverse, and multi-cultural. Walk through any suburban or downtown residential area and you will instantly experience a reflection of this concept. We intermingle, we inter-date, we inter-marry, and our lifestyles reflect that.
So then I thought, OK, well Flare is not the only fashion publication who doesn’t fully support diversity–beyond the ‘token’ editorial here and there– they all don’t, certainly not in the way that they “should.” Awhile back a NFB film documentary on “the institutionalized racism in the beauty industry” as evidenced by the alarming lack of diversity in fashion made the rounds and was featured on the blog Racialiscious. Some of the usual suspects, including Fashion Television Host @Jeanne_Beker weighed in, without much to add to the discussion than what we’ve heard in the past. “Covers with non-white models don’t sell; designers prefer non-descript faces that are not too ethnic; ethnic faces need to fit the European aesthetic,” and on it goes. They follow a pretty Canadian model trying to break into the market. But she is 24! Old by model standards, and sure she’s pretty enough, but she’s no [Polish Canadian] Daria Werbowy or Coco Rocha. Even I, the general magazine reader could tell you that! What was most surprising to me is that Canada’s fashion heavyweights seem to simply acquiesce and succumb to the popular school of thought without offering any solutions, or corrections, or a plan about how to change it.
If as Canada’s own design guru, agent provocateur, and Glimmer wisdom-provider, Bruce Mau says, “Radical New Thinking Has To Start Somewhere,” what better place than “Canada’s Fashion Authority? Here’s what I suggest:
Change the Editorial Content. Make it relevant. Make it good, Make it timely. Make it count.
Get good writers. “Name” writers if you have to. But writers who have more to report on than the trivial content of the current September Issue. Granted, any writer worth her salt can peak the interest of a cynical audience and make the most trivial subject interesting. Put these writers through a rigorous screening process so that they produce interesting cultural content. For example, Toronto just went through the G20 brouhaha, where’s that? We host TIFF in September, where’s that? You couldn’t get a profile on Cameron Bailey, or his wife, the very fashionable filmmaker Carolyn Hew, who incidentally hails from Winnipeg, home of Guy Maddin and the Royal Winnipeg Ballet? She exudes fashion. Our Indie Movie Scene is huge. Toronto artist Safiya Randera and her film doc, “My Father the Terrorist,” is big news on Facebook. Where’s that? James McCallum a member of the Philosophy Kings and the duo Sunshine State recently moved with his multi-ethnic family to London UK this past summer, where’s that? We also have a growing Muslim population with many young women who cover for various reasons, what about a regular feature talking about that as it relates to fashion ideas?
Hire a Guest Blogger to give Good Column. There’s a very popular blog written out there called Bras And Ranties. She is a GIFT to the Toronto scene. Engage her very popular and with-it discussion threads. Another blog by Canadian Ex-Pat Murieann Carey-Campbell writes the Bangs And a Bun column. She’s been short-listed for a Cosmo Blog award and just recently started a blog called Field of Dreams that drips positivity. Do you know the Toronto-based Etiquette Doyenne, Lily Lemontree? She is a “lady” in every true sense of the word! I found her through my favourite “housewife,” Coryanne Etienne of @Housewifebliss who writes about the art of nesting with a modern twist.
Get a Fresh Young Perspective on Foodie’ism. Have you metMadebyMariko? She’s a30-something foodie scenester, and graduate of George Brown culinary school, who blogs about her various un/successful forays into food. She’s smart, cute and funny. She’s also a former fashion addict and the niece of ½ of the international design duo; Yabu Pushelberg which also happens to be her day job. [Tell me that you couldn’t get a food sponsor to support her column on a monthly basis, or pitch Pusateri’s or WholeFoods, heck even Loblaws to get involved using their gourmet ingredients. The food network is HUGE and fashionistas love to pick their salad and get drunk at all the best restolounges.
Put a real marketing teamin place to aggressively approach high income brands such that you get the proper lifestyle/fashion support a fashion magazine should have. Where are the big ticket advertisers? And if you have to have a Rogers ad in the magazine, couldn’t you have one that is sexy and projects a fashion image?
Lose the weird Curly Q font that you use as the opening letter for each new feature. It’s ugly and distracting. And a bit “try-hard.” Speaking of try-hard, hire that bitch, LaineyGossip to report on Holly’weird. As much as I am loathe to “appreciate” her blog, she is relevant, Canadian, and Asian. In the context of the latest celebrity nonsense, her posts on her Mother, whom she fondly refers to as the “Chinese Squawking Chicken,” are priceless.
Create a Bit More Desire. Make me want to purchase Flare over Elle or Vogue or Harper’s Bazaar, not because it is Canadian, but because it’s good. A good cover is only window-dressing, what else is happening underneath the cover models ahem, skirt, so to speak?
Add some Edge. Canada is brimming with creativity. Our music scene has been the talk of the underground scene for years. Hot girls LOVE musicians. What should I buy and why? Why not get James McCallum of the aforementioned Philosopher Kings to post a diary on living in London? He moved there for a reason. Get that story.
Make a strategic alliance with the likes of the sweet young fashion talent, Brittany Law, founder and editorial director of the online magazine StyleRepublic , who was profiled in ShopBop, and who recently contributed this writing piece to Bergdorf Goodman regarding Fashion's Night Out. Speaking of which, where is Flare’s coverage of that event? She also does a wicked Follow Friday column featuring fashion’s popular and most sought after.
Mine the Fashion Blogs on a regular basis and tell us wassup! Or at the very least give us something they are not. Cathy Horyn recently wrote this article for the New York Times, called Fall Fashion: What Do Girls Want. It was essentially a profile piece on ShopBop founders and other with-it 20something/style trailblazers in the know. She goes on to say: “There is plenty of research about the so-called Millennials — people ages 18 to 29 — to suggest you can’t lump them all together. Not only is this group likely to become the most educated generation in American history, according to a Pew Research Center survey this year, it is also the most racially and ethnically diverse.” {My Italics}. If this isn’t proof-positive that Flare has an opportunity over and above the other fashion titles, I don’t know what is!
Speaking of Blogs, you did read this article online @VanityFair, right? It states that "Fashion Has Gone Viral." And it lists the top blogs that fashion-followers should check out. Just sayin'
Think Outside the fashion box. Round tablea discussion on print magazine relevance from somebody other than your 6 degree circle of friends. Don't lie. You all know, exactly what I’m talking about. Whenever Canadian fashion wants to “invite” women in to discuss Topic ABC, you girls always invite the usual suspects who also happen to be your close friends. And really, that insider/clique business is so irritatingly "Gossip Girl." Please grow up, and please endeavour to get the 'hello' OVER yourself!Why not conduct a little random poll at the go-to places in every city. Get a skinny jean sponsor like J Brand or something and ask random stylish Canadian women, like the this 20something Canadian girl BrittanyDefhr from style+substance, recently featured in Vanity Fair and described as a "favourite," what they want from their so-called “Fashion Authority.” If Flare’s Fashion Director, via Twitter says she: “hates chick flics,”“hates the term fashionista,” and “hates the term foodie,” consider enlisting the services of someone who “loves,” understands and appreciates those terms in the context of today’s popular-culture-speak, and roll/[role model] with the good times!
12. Fashion is an “elite” sport. Create the illusion that there will always be something about fashion that I am not “worthy” of having. To that end, slapping a $2.99 red sticker at the top right hand corner of the magazine cover of the Biggest Fashion Issue Ever is so not incentive for any self-respecting chi-chi bitch in her right fashion mind, to make a purchase. Truthfully, she might be more inclined to quickly skip over that pub in a trendy heart beat. [Kidding of course. The price-tag is totally "on-budget" for fashion students, and students of fashion, but Fashion is not charity, never has been, and if all of a sudden you expect me to believe that "fashion has a conscious" beyond making a profit, well then you must think me more gullible than the rest of 'em].
Finally, I don’t claim to have “all” the answers. Mine is but one opinion, but I think it’s one worth considering. Call me anytime. And let’s round-table this and flesh out a real proposal that’s gonna live up to the “Authority” you so boldly claim.
When tweeting, the dialogue in my head goes something like this:
Me: You know you shouldn’t be such a hater [on Twitter] when it comes to expressing yourself, particularly when tweeting about something you’re dissatisfied with.
Me2: I know, but I almost can’t help it. Part of me knows that I should “play the game” but the other part hates playing games.
Me: Get used to it.
Me2: I don’t think I can, it goes against my better nature. Plus I suck at Poker.
Me: Change your nature. Learn the game.
Me2: I can’t change what nature created. Plus I’ve tried. And I can’t keep the number sequences in my head.
Me: Well, then modify your behaviours to suit the status quo. And maybe write crib notes on your hand like Sarah Palin.
Me2: The status quo is what got me into this mess. Plus, some people don’t think Sarah Palin is very intelligent.
Me: Listen, you’re not the only girl with a bone to pick. Just work a little harder on your poker face.
Me2: Never said I was the only “grrl” with a bone to pick. And my face and my brain and my heart all work simultaneously. The face mimics the heart in my case. Sorry.
Me: Well then, stop acting like the universe is supposed to bend to your will. A lot of people like things just the way they are.
Me2: Well, I don’t.
Me: Then do something about it, or else you’ll drive yourself crazy, drive everyone else crazy, and alienate a lot of “good” people
Me2: Define good.
Me: You know, what? I can’t answer that. Good is relative.
Me2: Relative to what?
Me: Relative to how it’s viewed on the scale of importance in the Grand Scheme of Things.
Me2: Ya well, one person’s idea of importance is another person’s bag of salty potato chips. Chips were the “downfall” of Oprah you realize. [Or was it the little blue corn chips? Same thing in my book].
Me: You lost me.
Me2: I like potato chips. I would marry a bag if I could. At the end of the day it’s currently all I can think about.
Me: Really?
Me2: Yes really.
Me: Any particular kind of potato chip?
Me2: Well, I’ve always been partial to Lays Ripple. They’re plain, and they contain only 9% sodium. Just salty enough.
Me: I see.
Me2: At night it’s what I do. I tweet, [blog, maybe watch a movie and eat potato chips] therefore I Am.
Me: And this has been happening for?
Me2: About 2 weeks now. I sort of lost my marbles a few weeks ago, started to twitter rant about fashion and that’s when I decided to start eating potato chips again. I’ll likely stop on September 1st
Me: Why September 1st ?
Me2: Because September is Back To School, and any parent will tell you it’s like the start of a New Year.
In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve had a majah “bitch-on” for a few days now. The bitch, well it seems, “she” will NOT go away. “That girl” is consumed with issue upon issue, and I wonder if she had a “job” outside of raising her girlies and being a full time supahmothah, if she’d still find the time to be engaged, be enraged and all ‘round enslaved by The Media Mind Suck. Methinks yes, because once you’ve gone bitch, it’s really hard to go back. The awareness-factor notwithstanding, it’s the insipid behaviours of the masses that encourage and gently guide me into fits of dis/placement and alienated solitude. Is my only outlet the “whine & moan” pages of my blog? For now, yes, because kicking a dog is considered abusive; drinking, partying and whoring is frowned upon by The Motherati, and Jesus and the Karma Police truth be told, are generally-speaking, a reminder away from not letting me go too far off my ragin rockah.
And no, [hell-to-the-EM-EFF-no!] I have not taken up residence with the “walking wounded” either. I do not view each and every morsel of life as shit. [My beautiful girls, and my charming huzzband will not allow that sort of self-indulgence. Well, not too often anyway].
I’m just annoyed and vocal about the trivia that is being packaged and “sold” to me in the guise of it being “good for me.” Hell, the advertising no longer extols the “virtues”—a paradoxical word if ever there was one in the context of advertising— of stuff that might be necessary to “improve” my life, rather it encourages me to focus on the extraneous stuff, over and above of what I’ve “hoarded” and acquired in the first place.
“Hoarding” for those of you who don’t know, is another social/mental illness that comes as a result of our 21st Century First World Privilege, and it involves among other things, “The Hoarder” acquiring multiples of things that she may never actually use, but purchases and keeps in the event that she may one day find a use. The Hoarder typically stores the items in the home in which she dwells with family members until the stuff literally takes over, and “normal” living takes a back seat to overwhelming clutter, flith and general disarray.
I, like the rest of North America, was first introduced to the concept via the A&E Channel. [And now for some unknown reason TLC has picked up the gauntlet. Why you ask? Because filth is the “new” attractive is the “new” sexy. And if you find yourself teetering on the side of finding it slightly objectionable, somewhat loathsome and a tinge, cringe-inducing, well, lighten the fuck – up, will you. It’s “just” TV.
But just so you “know,” sharing this social media illness is what television does best. [They haven’t termed the coin, “viral” for nuthin! All the hoarders and materialists, and psychologically-wounded can placate their fears through the medium of TV, and if you don’t share this sickness—tag, you’re it!— then you can watch, get grossed out, and thank your lucky stars it’s not you. If memory serves, Oprah, my media darling—and yours—also aired an episode about hoarding back in the day. Oprah My Media Darling introduced us to a lot of previously “closeted” issues. Um. Thank you Oprah?
ON HOARDING
I find myself feeling “slightly” unsympathetic “about” this issue [not to sufferers of this malaise]. The feeling is not so much directed at the victim of said illness—should the sick “take responsibility” for his sickness and heal himself?—but towards the society that encourages and sustains it. And so to draw a-knock-you-upside-your-head-example, let me again visit the starving people in the deepest dark Africa [or your neighbour across the street, you just never know]. If the gentle people of the overpopulated underprivileged third world have a “problem,” it’s not buying and keeping and hoarding the same plastic shit over and over and over again thinking that they just might one day find a “use” for it. “Survival” has a different importance and connotation in the context of whether Mother Nature will cooperate in order to provide food, and if the corrupt political men in power will put their selfish gains before that of the people, and oh, if your children will live to see their 5th birthday.
Our 1st World Problems are such that if we really took a look inwards, we might have to face the reality that our problems are sometimes manufactured by the society in which we live. [Again, here I go with the reductive reasoning, but sometimes the duck quacks and the dog barks, and no matter how much we “think” these animals “speak” our language, they just don’t. Reality is a Bitch. Suck That.
I sometimes wonder if the clinicians ever considered that above and beyond the hoarders psychological problems, which may be a result of some deep psychological trauma, if they would ever consider putting the hoarder on a restricted financial allowance as part of therapy. If you do not have money for stuff, you cannot purchase stuff. Of course this “therapy” may not apply to the hoarder who sifts through garbage, but the ones who can “afford” to acquire material goods might benefit from this as “treatment” as well. Don’t you think?
The thing is, thanks to the 24 hour airing of our so-called dirty laundry, and our deepest, darkest, most troubling illnesses, we have been co-opted into sharing and thus “becoming” part of the sum-total of our society’s ailments and diss/functions. The hoarder on TV is the hoarder living in your home who own owns “nostalgic” gear from the 80s. The celebrity with the walk-in closet containing more than 200 pairs of shoes—a conservative number by Holly’weird standards—is your younger brother who has a collection of 25 bongs and the new mom with the 65 onesies she recieved from the recent baby shower for her 4th kid, cuz ALL CHILDREN DESERVE A BABYSHOWER dontcha know, is well, “deserving” of those 65 onesies, because well all “know” how hard it is for a new mom to do laundry!
People, People, People: It’s all the same, except now we have popular mainstream language to describe it, and a justifiable reason for doing it. What about just saying that the habit/affliction supports the treatment supports the habit/affliction that supports the treatment and call it a day. Today is Wednesday, also known as Hump Day, get over it.
The Other Day on TwitterI was faced with my very first conundrum: To Tweet or Not To Tweet, and To Follow or Not To Follow. It hasn’t happened to me before, and well, like a lot of things, there’s a first time for everything.
Here’s the Tweet which I posted, and instantly deleted, but not before copying it into an email and saving it in the Drafts Folder of my Outlook:
dear @HollyOrd I am not an atheist, & nothing in this life will ever make me one. is it ok 4 me 2 follow U on Twitter. I am SO conflicted.
You see, Holly Ord is an Atheist. And I am not. Her belief system is part of her identity which she wears loudly and proclaims confidently on her website Menstrual Poetry. She’s 23 and she’s already had an interesting life. Among many things, she is a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. When I read that line, I cried. [Am feeling a little sniffly right now, if you must know]. Whenever I hear or read about crimes against children, I simply lose my shit. I am ANGRY, I am DISGUSTED, and I feel an instant need to gather my children in my arms and protect them from the sickness of the world. I know that I cannot do that—simply shield them from the “reality” of our world, but I can do my very best to protect them from the former children now adults who were not protected the way they should have been when they were young.
It occurs to me that much of Ms Ord’s belief systems such as Atheism, and her liberal sexual views [she likes pornography] originated from that place where she was not protected. This is my guess. I am no expert. I do not claim to *know* or even relate to her life, but my spidey senses tell me that if this great spiritual entity was “supposed” to “be there” for people like her then why and how did this sickness occur? And yes, I am not so naive as to claim that I am unaware that this concept is one of the fundamental issues of the great God debate, but I’m soooo not going there. Then again equating Atheism, sexual expression and pornography to abuse might be reductive reasoning. And some sex trade workers will make the claim that systemic child abuse has nothing to do with their addictions or *chosen* profession. Don’t get it twisted.
It seems all too simplistic for me to say that because there is a teeming pile of giant crap in the world that it is “God’s Fault.” [Does it then mean that people who do not “follow” God should be punished?] Something also tells me that Holly Ord wouldn’t want me to “feel sorry” for or to even debate her passion for Atheism. Or to sum up the complex being she is by relating everything to her childhood. Something tells me that she found the power within to overcome and to get in touch with herself outside the realm of the things that were done to her. To me this sounds a lot like Liberation and Emancipation—perhaps Feminism—and I can get down with that.
The Other Day on Twitter I “met” another 23 year old who too has lived an interesting life. Her name is Shelby Knox. A name which sounds rather 60s-inspired, writerly, memorable and oh so “brand”-like. Among other commitments to The Cause, Shelby writes a blog called The Ms. Education of Shelby Knox. She’s also famous for her high school activism in a film that addresses the profound issues of human rights for ALL. Of course with that kind of platform and exposure at such a young age, the world has come to expect great things. Or at the very least, messages of hope and enlightenment. No pressure darling. We’re all here to help you keep pace!
Holly and Shelby are well-known capital F Feminists. I was fortunate to find Holly through Shelby. And I was reminded & reacquainted with the brilliance of Shelby–I have been wanting to follow her for ages– through my new friend Lydia [@lydiafernandes] whom I met at a Women’s Wisdom Workshop hosted by Marla Goldstone & Rona Maynard [@RonaMaynard] . [Lydia tweeted a link for Shelby’s post, about her "Day as an Anti-Feminist (Role) Model," and I kinda freaked [comment # 109] cuz Shelby used the term a “real looking woman.”
The term “Real Woman” is my PENULTIMATE cringe-inducing term that I have had the supreme displeasure to debate. It’s so divisive. In my opinion we might as well replace the phrase “Real Women” with I Ain’t no Fake Ass Pretty Bitch or better yet, Why You All Should Hate Other Women Who Are Different Than You By Virtue of Genetic Make up or Media Manipulation.
Do you feel me on this point? It’s virtually the same. But please, please please don’t get me started, again. I crossed that bridge once before in a letter to Oprah, no less. So onwards!
So ya, Shelby and Holly are known for their political views and inspirational messages of hope for humankind. [Did you just hear the doves cry?]
The Other Day on Twitter I happened on an interesting discussion thread which was brought to my attention by the brilliant Leslie Kinzel aka, @52Stations. She writes a blog called Fatshionista. Leslie tweeted about the store Lane Bryant, @lanebryant who openly dissed Natalie Perkins, a woman in Kinzel’s Twitter Community who is an advocate for Fat Acceptance and who makes and sells a line of fashionable clothing for women. The T-shirt in question said, “Does my Fat Arse look Fat in this.” From Lane Bryant’s perspective they thought it was a bit gauche. But they didn’t know who they were messin’ with because some Fat Girls could give a rat’s ass what some over-priced corporation thinks about their philosophies concerning the language of the “Fat Positive.” And so it was on. I got all jazzed about the discussion, I posted the link about T-shirt. And then I remarked that I wanted one.
Gulp. This was the Tweet that also gave me pause. By some definition—Holly’weird exempted— I am not Fat. Per se. Ya sure, I have the everyday struggles that women with a mild case of BDD do. And I do not, in any shape or form, resemble my BFF with the rock hard abs—2 children and a MIL “did” that to me. [Ha. Ha.] Also the phrase “does this make me look fat is not only familiar to me, it’s a *normal* part of my daily routine. That said, I do not by any means have the political and social issues related to those of the amply-proportioned. And I have not ever been discriminated against because somebody did not wish to see me in a pair of “skinny jeans.”
So my wanting a T-shirt created by a woman who’s philosophy I respect and share, made me feel like a bit of an opportunist. A bit too “comfortable” and perhaps a bit too familiar with a struggle that I really know nothing about. I suppose it’s a similar thing to non-black folks using the word Nigger. You all just c’aint! Here’s Leslie’s post about Lane Bryant. Ooooh, they’re gonna be in trouble.
And now back to the Menstrual Poetry of Holly Ord. So not only did I hesitate to follow her because she’s an Atheist, but I acted all junior high when I tweeted that the word menstrual made me uncomfortable and did it mean that I hated myself. Elsewhere, I posted the link with this opening line: “The title gives me cramps. And makes me feel a bit queasy. Hopefully in 5 days I’ll feel better.” Ha. Ha.
But now, we cool, you know? Because Menstrual Poetry content is CRAZY. It’s the kind of emotional writing that makes you feel just about everything after you’ve read it. It’s definitely not “mainstream” and she certainly is *out there*. For this reason I worry about her psychological safety [and mine too]. I think all writers need to save some of the ideas they have for themselves [myself included]. I don’t mean self-censorship, because that IS unhealthy and unproductive. I mean that we might hold back on a part of our personality [or personalities] so that some of it is reserved solely for us, a kind of safe place where nobody can touch, engage with, consume or comment on. Because when you open yourself up that much, you lay yourself open to attack. Still, perhaps it’s good to keep the lines of communication flowing as it were. Menstrual, indeed.
So in a previous entry, I kind of went “off” about Mo’nique and her whole shouty-thing, and how I just couldn’t relate. And I went as far as quoting a source in the form of a book written by Sports Illustrated author, Ralph Wiley called Why Black People Tend To Shout. And now I have my “theory” as to why she shouts. Recently, I read a article on Barbara Walters where she talked about her triumphs and regrets concerning the many “celebrities” she’s interviewed over career, and she revealed that Mo’nique had been sexually molested by her brother. I actually do recall Mo’nique telling Oprah that via satellite after the “Precious” reviews came pouring in.
When I read that, I got a full body chill, and my spirit went into shock mode. I had an immediate visceral reaction to what I perceived must have caused Mo’nique incredible pain and misery in her young life, and I marvelled at how every hour she must live her life in spite, despite what her brother did to her.
My reaction to assaults of this nature, particularly where and when it concerns children is great sorrow, and anger, empathy, and disgust. I wonder how on God’s Green Earth such a vile thing can happen. It tears me up inside to think how the violated can live through this experience, and how the violators can continue to walk “peacefully” amongst us. But people who do this most assuredly are not at peace. For it takes a tragic and corrupted mind to perpetuate such egregious acts upon a child.
And so it is with Mo’nique. I believe she gives her audience the full frontal attack because she wants to let you know that she is OFF LIMITS. I think she wants to show you that there is nothing that can touch her because her guard is way up. She will cuss you out, and she will cuss you out loud before you dare to approach her. At the same time, she is gracious, and generous and forgiving. She shows her gratitude and appreciation in heapings-full of joy in such a demonstrative fashion, that one can only do a double-take once you realize that what she is doing is positive.
At first, I thought that the “caricature” portraiture of the Big Mammy was more than I could bear because for whatever reason whatever we read in print, and see manifest on television becomes representative, good or bad, black or white. We live in a culture that seems to privilege the image over the reality, and thus what we see is what we get is what we believe, is. And so with Mo’nioque. We see a large black woman, we see a large mouth, and an even larger personality, shouting at the tube, shouting at us about what is good, bad, and ugly. And she doesn’t “whitefy” it, she doesn’t make it digestible or even palatable to whom she perceives her audience to be, she just puts it out there, and if you want to go along for the ride, then she’ll take you there.
When she had L’il Wayne on the program, I was shocked. Not because he happens to be one of the most popular recording artists of our time, but because he is certified ghetto-fabulous, and he doesn’t care what you’all think. In fact, as I write this, his jail sentence has been postponed, until further notice. But there was Mo’nique introducing him first as a “proud father” and then talking about how influential and monumental his music abilities are.
It’s long been said that “we” are living in 2 Americas: one for white folks, and one for black folks. And one could argue that the “image” of black folks that we have come to know and “love” and understand, and emulate—yes, emulate let’s be Real Honest, here—is what we see manifest on TV. BET to be frank. There’s a dialect that is different from the standard English, there is a dress and a swagger that is different from the mainstream, and there is a look and a hook that is all too familiar which the popular culture loves and despises. It’s all there, in your hair, in your face, and how you endeavour to get your point across.
And so like down in the slave quarters when all the work for the massa has be done gone, the slaves are gonna praise Jesus, and party! And that is what the Mo’nique Show is: Pop-TV-Church and a certified par-tay, y’all. HALLEJULAH!!!!
ithinkyoushould.Have a Marketing Plan that includes a Public Relations/Media Plan.
In business life, you are nothing without a marketing plan AND a public relations/media plan. Business & Marketing/PR go hand in hand like milk and cookies, pasta and sauce, wine and cheese, fries and salt. You get the picture. Unfortunately, so many small businesses fail because while you may have a great idea and a great product, few invest the necessary thought, time, energy and dollars on the smart tools that will help to bring your product to market.
In our over-media saturated world, the companies that gain the most air-time, are more often than not the companies who invest big dollars to ensure that their products are placed front and centre on the media landscape. If we are bombarded and pressured to buy “Concept A” over “Concept B,” or “Product A” over “Product B” it is because some clever body out there is making damn sure that we keep our eyes on their prize. Quite instantly the [subliminal] buzz words and phrases that they use to market their great ideas instantly become part of the culture and we incorporate them into our lingo without missing a beat:
Dr. Oz wants you to focus on You, Oprah wants you to Live your Best Life, Nike wants you to Just Do It, Adidas tells us that Impossible is Nothing, Coca-Cola wants you to Smile, and the list goes on. If we are not called to swift and immediate action by these slogans, then we are gently persuaded that we are Lovin’ It by McDonald’s, that I’m a PC and Windows 7 was my idea by Microsoft, that Banking can be This Comfortable by TD Canada Trust, that Ziploc was designed with you in mind [thanks for the refresher NYTimes], and so on.
It is these smart marketing strategies coupled with smart design and smart public relations/media initiatives that keep these brands in the forefront of our minds, at the forefront of the media cycle, all with a strategic hand in our pocketbooks. It doesn’t hurt that TD has been voted Best Customer Service, that Nike endorses [and drops as necessary—boohoo Tiger!] multi-million dollar gifted athletes or that Microsoft’s Bill Gates is a great philanthropist in addition to being a likeable and business-savvy geek.
Smart marketing, and clever planning make all the difference and the difference lays in not only what you market, but how and why and when you market your product. So here’s the thing: in addition to setting goals and benchmarks, one must aim high, and if you can’t aim high, then aim mid-market. That’s right people. I said, “MID-MARKET!”
The mid-market landscape is populated by wanna-be brands who might never reach the top tier level of products similar to theirs, but they don’t care. They are content to be B-Status players and as a result they are able to milk that status for all it’s worth. What’s clever about the B-Status players is that knowing that they will “never” become top level players, they are free to market the hell out of their B Status as a viable option to the A Level Brands . The bells and whistles aren’t as loud and/or shiny, and it may not cost as much, but no matter, the B Status/Listers have a calling and a following and they know what their demographic wants. The point is, they too have a marketable strategy—a failsafe Gameplan that keeps them on “back-up” status should the A-Lister lose public favour or fall from grace. Yes, the market is that fickle, because we the people are that fickle.
A good example of smart marketing is the comic/brand Kathy Griffin. Many years ago she made a name for herself by promoting her “D-List” status. Her program, My Life on the D-List skewers the Hollywooderati while making good fun of her life as what she terms a “D-List Celebrity.” What’s smart about Ms Griffin is that in promoting her “D-List” status she has made herself an “A-Lister” by default. She is also clever enough to know how not to alienate her fans or to isolate herself from the very category that she established to win a unique demographic all her own. She’s been smart enough to keep her brand loyal to what she set out to do, and she’s been strategic enough to leverage her “D-List” status to insinuate herself into the A-List category/environments where she would have been previously unwelcomed.
Griffin’s [media]strategy involved her creating a Reality Show long before Reality Shows were the norm, and she brought us into her “private” world of entertainment where few celebrities would “allow” such access. In fact, the sole reason the Tabloids exist is to deconstruct and annihilate the untouchable personas “A-Listers” create—by way of their own marketing strategies— to distance themselves from the grubby masses. So for example, Brad Pitt will do a Edwin 503’s jean commercial in Japan, but we won’t ever have a hope in hell of seeing him hawk jeans here much less smile for a celebrity Gap ad. And thus an industry was born.
So from this we can glean that strategy is everything, and that a good strategy underscores any marketing/public relations/media campaign that you will ever embark upon. You need insight, and foresight and forbearance. You need to invest and be confidant that what you have is indeed worth fighting for and you will stop at nothing to achieve your market share be it A Status or D Status. There is room at the top for everyone and no one. How badly you want it depends on your Value Add and the strategies you employ to get you there. I think you should get going. There is plenty of room at the bottom.
ithinkyoushould.Follow the Uncomplicated Wisdom of a Certain 13 Year Old.
So out in the blogosphere there is a 13 year “genius,” “prodigy” who writes a fashion blog called the Style Rookie. Her name is Tavi. She is a precocious sort in that her fashion tastes are unlike that of the “average” teenager. She writes superbly, and she exudes a particular creative energy that is inspiring. And by all accounts she knows her stuff. She is the “rage” in the business of fashion writing/reporting, and in her early days, many questioned whether she was the brilliance behind the blog because it contained a sophisticated maturity, and a rather unique understanding of the craft. But she is. The real thing. Baby.
Yesterday on her blog she wrote about a writer for the Guardian named Tanya Gold, who penned an article called, “Why I Hate Fashion.” I think, Tavi wrote an “on point” argument about why she felt that Gold’s and others’ sentiments against fashion are at best, misplaced. To me, in many ways, it’s like the Religion and Science debate: there are strong proponents for and against either side; but the fundamentalists on each side, notwithstanding, the point is really that not all of it can be [easily] explained away. You either do “believe” [in the concept] or you don’t. You’re either a fan or you’re not. And at the very least, if we respect the fact that nobody needs to convert anybody, we can agree to disagree that neither idea is the panacea. And to think of them as such is kind of ignorant.
Without irony, Tavi proclaims that, “the problem with fashion isn’t fashion, but how others decide to see it.” Perhaps this is a over-simplified view of the question of fashion itself, but maybe there’s something to be said in that.
Many moons ago I wrote a response to Karl Lagerfeld’s “attack” on “jealous fat mommies” and Oprah’s and Dove’s comment and campaign respectively, about “real women.” I disagreed with Karl’s choice of words, but agreed that it’s unfair to judge the genetically-blessed Glamazons who strut the catwalk and blame them because you can’t stop eating twinkies and ding dongs after 6pm. I admonished Oprah and Dove for their word choice insisting that a “real woman” has a “real bootie” unlike, they implied the Glamazons, who according to their argument are not “real” [meaning they must be “unreal?”].
So essentially it’s an interpretation thing. And, guess what, you can’t have it both ways. The point is, I suppose, to have a point. And take a position. And Tavi makes some good ones. And Tanya Gold makes some good ones—albeit personally-felt and cynical. The difference is that Tanya wants to hold fashion hostage for something that people are responsible for [see above argument about twinkies and ding dongs], much like in the Science and Religion discussion where, the God-dissers and disenters want to hold God responsible for all the “bad” when again it’s not God, but people.
ithinkyoushould. Distance yourself from average people who follow celebrities for the sole purpose of proving them wrong, inadequate, or insufficient. Call it an occupational hazard of our times. We look to Media to define and validate us. If it’s not everyday women of a certain age cutting, pulling and camouflaging their faces to appear more youthful and vibrant, then it’s the youth themselves living recklessly on the edge imitating the extreme scenarios they see on TV for want of a more adventurous existence. But how to quantify and qualify the good from the bad?
Recently, I googled Oprah to try and find some material on a show I had read about. Generally speaking, I am not in the habit of googling Oprah, but I do peruse her site every once in a blue moon for some so-called life-affirming advice I think I might be lacking. The entry that came up at the top of the search engine was about a woman called Robin Okrant, who had lived according to Oprah’s advice for 1 year. As I scanned the article I became annoyed. Not because this woman sought to “out” Oprah for endorsing the “Live Your Best Life Practices” she had decided to follow, and then write about, but at the shallow stupidity of the woman herself. Was she trying to get her 15 minutes? Did she really believe that following Oprah would help her achieve her Life’s Worth, or was she merely cashing in like so many detractors who have not found their own self-worth and hoped to achieve it through some guru’s advice that they were not innately meant to follow? [The woman even admitted that she was not a 'true' Oprah disciple]. I immediately came to the conclusion that it was all the above.
The first rule of thumb to consider when attempting to follow the Purveyors of Advice is: ALL ADVICE IS SELF-SERVING. The second is: What is Good for the Goose, is not [necessarily] Good for the Gander, and third: Get Real! Yes, some self help is good, but only if you are open and receptive to it. And one must always modify these suggestions based on personal ability and history. We cannot fault the messenger if we misinterpret the messengers offerings, rather, we must take the message and modify it to suit our needs. That’s it.
ithinkyoushould. Have a Manifesto for Growth. For the longest time I fought against what I was purportedly good at. For example, I knew that I could write, and that I wanted to write, but I didn’t know how well or if this was simply a passing idea. I never considered an audience to whom I could share my well-considered wisdom, and I certainly never made space for my potential critics. I didn’t think about how I would channel my ideas into something constructive or vaguely useful. I assumed rather self-righteously that what I would eventually have to say, or write about, was good because it’s what I endeavoured to say and eventually write about. I thought rather naively that what would follow is that people would care. Call it the arrogance of Youth. Except I wasn’t a youth. I think I was just lazy.
What I fought against was doing the real work necessary to become an effective communicator. Among other things, the list would include the ability to:
A. Hone my voice,
B. Develop my opinions against the opinions of the masses,
C. Study people I found interesting, and people that I didn’t,
D. Analyze what was “useful” or what I, and the rest of the world thought made them good,
E. Understand what I thought my worth/value was against what people could afford to pay me, or what they deemed I was worth.
Above all, I hadn’t considered the prospect of failing until someone else made sure I did [more on that “someone” in later editions]. When you don’t consider that one day you just might fail, or put another way, if you aren’t sure about what makes you successful, then by turn, you won’t be able to imagine the pitfalls of failure. You might never get where you’re really supposed to be going, and you inevitably leave the door open for all kinds of saboteurs who are busy calculating and hungrily await your first failure in the guise of your unintentional misstep.
My conundrum was simple enough. And yet it was overwhelmingly complicated. Put quite simply, I didn’t have a Manifesto for Growth. Nor did I have a plan for success. I was very good at giving away my ideas— for free, unfortunately or fortunately, as the case would be, but I hadn’t planned any “what-if” scenarios. What if I became ridiculous wealthy in a very short period of time. What if I became notoriously famous. What if I became broke-ass in the process of discovering my gift. What if I had nurtured the wrong gift [fortunately, natural gifts have a way of reminding you what you “should be” doing]. What if nobody wanted what I was offering. And most difficult to swallow, at the time anyway, What if I failed? And so on.
It occurred to me then, as it occurs to me now that one should have a Manifesto For Growth. An “aspirational” system by which you measure your business success and failures. A mantra that you espouse until you become the idea itself and when people see you, they are able to say: there goes so and so, the guy who was able to “be” about it, more than “talk” about it. Granted, if you can do both, successfully, then you are leaps and bounds ahead of the rest.
One popular culture example of achieving a personal/business Manifesto of Growth is Oprah Winfrey. Say what you will about her media dynasty [what can you really say, beyond any superficial bitchy comment?] but it would seem that this woman was destined for media success. Success, was her focus and mantra since she started working. She is fond of telling the world how her goal was to make her age. And when she began to make her age, and had surpassed her age, she set out a series of success benchmarks all of which she surpassed. If we look at successful people and companies today they are there because of some aspiration or desire to be there. In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell would argue that success is a series of the fortunate circumstances of various contributors from a variety of re/sources, but I do believe that how we become what we become is more than an opportunistic fortuitous moment. Who and what we become is largely based on how we plan or don’t plan as the case may be; whether we turn our failures into success, whether we repeat the same mistakes expecting different outcomes, whether we stay in the rut because the rut is comfortable. And what we allow other people to tell us to do, and what to think about our worth. In short, whether we pursue and orchestrate our destiny.
Here’s what I consider to be the Manifesto to begin all manifestos. And this comes by way of Creative/Design Guru, Bruce Mau. Naturally there are many manifestos that have been put forward in different forms and in different centuries by a mass array of Thinking Individuals and these philosophical “White Papers” include words like: mantra, goal, plan, mission, prayer, sonnet, etc. But to me this Manifesto resonates in a different way. Perhaps because it is the brainchild of a “humble” Canadian from the mining town of wintry Sudbury, Ontario; perhaps because it comes from a guy who didn’t seek fame before relevance; and because it comes from a guy who consumes Hope and Optimism and breathes Collaboration the way most of us consume cookies or chug beers and breathe air.
The Manifesto was first inked in 1997 on the dining table of the Williams Mau residence. I had come to Toronto by way of Winnipeg the summer of 1995, and had worked a brief internship with Bruce Mau Design followed by a paid employment opportunity shortly thereafter. When I left Mau’s Studio—founded on much the same principle as Andy Warhol’s Factory/Studio—2 ½ years later to begin a career as a communications specialist in design, I would look back at B/MD as the greatest example of creative practice ever.
As it would happen that early evening in 1997, I had paid a visit to the home of Mr. Mau because I wanted his contribution to a publication I was editing called Rhed. The magazine was to be a unique cultural offering by designer and publisher Del Terrelonge on the creative scene in Toronto, Canada. We had a list of contributors including Dr Kenneth Montague of Wedge Gallery, Judith Tatar of Tatar Gallery, Susan Hobbes of The Susan Hobbes Gallery, Stephen Bulger of Stephen Bulger Gallery, and others. My basic question to each participant was something along the lines of “what is the role of art/the artist in our times?” to which Bruce Mau quite speedily and without provocation, much less a concerted thought, hammered out 10 points of which he entitled An Incomplete Manifesto for Growth. It was brilliant to say the least. Unfortunately, the Rhed publication never saw another issue beyond its first incarnation, but the BMD Incomplete Manifesto would go on to achieve several impressive iterations, including a profile in Fast Companymagazine that spread like wildfire and contributed to Mr. Bruce Mau further solidifying his reputation as “The Thinking Man’s Designer,” all the way to his present persona as “design guru,” and “optimist.” An Incomplete Manifesto For Growth has been translated into several languages and self-help gurus easily talk about its relevance to achieving personal growth and success.
The work involved in this is simple enough. Create your own Incomplete Manifesto and change it and alter it as often as you like as you become more successful.
How are you? I hope that this letter finds you well. [I can’t personally imagine what a day in your life is like, but please allow me to wish you peace and joy, and may I also offer my thanks].
Like many diverse individuals from all walks of life, I have written you many many letters over the years, immediately casting them away falling prey to an overwhelming sense of insecurity that what I was thinking, and what I was about to say didn’t matter. Not so this time…
I have grown up with you, as have many of my peers and the very people who make up and break up our present society today. You and your dynamic and talented team have affected and impacted my life and the lives of others in so many ways that words cannot adequately and/or sufficiently express or thoughts or ideas can accurately articulate. You have been a major contributor and ambassador to the world community at large, and your humanitarian legacy speaks volumes. Most of all, you are the “down-to-earth” model of [civil] behavior and decorum for which many of us measure our success, trials and tribulations.
This brings me to my dilemma. Over the past few months, I have had many a sleepless night wrestling with the concept of Womanhood, and what it means in today’s world. I have experienced an overwhelming sense of anxiety and frustration about the women “ideals” that are not only portrayed in the media, but in my own personal life, and what these women who are my mothers, friends, sisters, and acquaintances project onto me, as the case may be, and/or evoke based on their own set of personal circumstances and experiences. What occurred to me recently, is that yes, sure, women are friends, lovers, sisters, mothers, enemies, frenemies, doctors, lawyers, models, actors, chefs, etc., but who are we really? I ask this because in the media lexicon of the day, there is an insidious attempt by The “Real” Womanhood to suggest that we have only the option of being or becoming a “Real” woman by the popular culture’s standard, and nothing else. As a result, the “Real” Womanhood has deigned to dictate examples of “Real” Womanhood, and any idea, image, concept, or notion that doesn’t not fit into the package of their “real” version, is by implication, not a [real] woman.
I was called to action on this term most recently by the Karl Lagerfeld rage/rant who dared to target his outrageous vitriol to the “real” women who suggested that fashion is bad because it was not representative of the culture of women. He said, in reference to “real” women, that it was the “fat mommies who sit around eating potato chips” who were the most outspoken and bitter about thin models. Naturally, the world media took note of this provocative statement, and the “real” women had a field day.
Shortly thereafter, The Oprah Show had Cookie Johnson as a guest on the show extolling the virtues of her line of jeans that fit the booty. You raved about the jeans that you had worn for 3 days! And “real” women of various sizes and nationalities modeled and looked fabulous in the CJ jean. It was a glorious day for you and all of us ample-bottomed women who have “suffered in silence” all these years jamming our God-given assets into jeans “made for” our slimmer sisters. What got me, and vexed me at the same time was when you stated loudly and proudly [with great television timing and dramatic flair that finally “real” women could wear stylish jeans. There was that “loaded” word again. Real. And when you, Dear Oprah said it, it gave it a weight and a particular significance that rang loudly in my ears and I am sure in the ears of many many women around the world. The Oprah-Affect of the word Real would turn not only the Jean Community on its axis—but the world of Real and Women equally—and the scales of justice would now be in favour of “real” women, ostracizing the “un-real” women and relegating them to the ranks of unworthiness. I know. A little dramatic. But I hope you get my point. By simple deductive reasoning, the implication is that women who could fit [and look good in] the previous style of jeans were not real, and that somehow because now a different set of women can fit the CJ jean they are real. This is troublesome to the say the least.
In our society today, women have not only to defend ourselves against male chauvinism and sexism, we now have to put up our dukes to fight our OWN sisters on the subject of who’s more “real” than the other. We have duped ourselves into believing that “genetically different” women are the enemy and we must at all cost, beat down, berate, and objectify our prettier, slimmer, more attractive, more successful, more giving, more forgiving, more loving, more “everything” counterparts, because they are the “evil” from which we can get a more accomplished and successful outlook on life, not to mention a better sense of self, and security, because we are not “them.” It’s an absolutely TERRIBLE energy to put out and support. Sadly, in the culture of women we are taught to believe that it’s ok to dislike other women who do not look like us. Where does this come from? Do men behave this way? Is this what we should be teaching our daughters? What is this hate from within that leaves us so dissatisfied and angry with one another?
I recall back in the day when you had made a very public display of your need to be thin. You had gone to great lengths to make your transformation even starving yourself to appear on the cover of Vogue magazine. It was incredible to say the least. And the world applauded you. Oprah, you were “real” then, and you are “real” now. You are no more or no less a woman because you had succumbed to the “pressure” to be “beautiful” but nobody called you to task to dislike the women who were not in your circle. I think now to be a proponent of “real” versus the “un-real” is disingenuous and unfair. Women are EVERYTHING. At times, real, and at times unreal. We are complex and simple, but we are what we are, and we can be anything we want to be, including “un-real” if that’s who we are.
The interesting media twist on this is the Dove Campaign for “Real” Beauty. for “Real” Beauty. Personally, I get it. I love it. And I used to think, Whew! It’s about time. But the underlying message is again counterproductive, and counter-intuitive. It suggests that “real” can now be defined by ample-bodied women, who are both young and old, large and small, of every ethnicity, etc. and that everything that is not represented in that campaign is not real. It’s like we are objectifying the fantasy of high fashion modeling and the aesthetic of the beautiful and twisting and bending it to suit the lowest common denominator, and that is not what it is for. It wasn’t ever for the masses. Just like being rich and famous is not an aspiration that we all can achieve. In other words, we may not ever be destined to be a size 0, or have lovely breasts, or small feet, or a high IQ, or a fat pocket book, or be called upon to be a guru to the world. We are what we were made to be. And this to me is “real.”
