#NYFW Street Style

Street style is on effing steroids during fashion week. It has the contradictory effect of making me feel bad about my own wardrobe (even my so-called statement pieces pale in comparison to what I see on da streetz) and inspiring me to dress different/better/cooler. 

I used to have a professor who said that the goal of an argument was to find the camembert. The thing with camembert is that it smells like a week-old corpse but tastes ah-mah-zing. The camembert is the paradox of a subject, and I think I found the camembert to street style. 

Street style, or at least my conception of it, is supposed to be what real women and men wear--mixing high-low, transporting themselves to work or school or not, and proving that everyone owns a whole lotta Zara. I've always thought street style looks to be practical. But there's nothing practical about fashion week street style. Street style stars and their wannabes aren't wearing anything that can be deemed practical. In fact, the characters posing for photos look as though their outfits have only one purpose: to be seen and captured by photographers. I'm not going to go on a diatribe though, because while the glamorati are taxying from galleries to the tents to Milk Studios and back again, I, along with the rest of the terminally seated, are clicky-clickying through blogs to see what they're wearing. 

Yeah, it might be a circus outside of Lincoln Center, but I can't stop watching. 

Images via Harper's Bazaar