The Language of Fashion
As a avid fashion follower, there are many places that I wish to visit in my life that I see as capitals of the world that inhabit a great sense of style within its culture. I have been lucky to visit the two closest to me, London and Paris as well as being lucky to live in the eccentric city of Manchester. The streets of London are a picture of personalities, where every persons’ individuality and idiosyncrasies are welcomed and encouraged. It is not unusual to see a woman looking striking in a pretty shift dress and statement heels on one side of the street, and on the opposite side a girl wearing ripped tights, stacked creepers and a vintage army coat and think that both look as good as one another. Paris, for me, was just breathtaking, its cultured streets and historic landmarks being a perfect backdrops for the domestic clothes-horses you see every day. Walking through the Jardin des Tuileries, dining on the Champs Elysee, or sightseeing at the Eiffel Tower, every person dresses with confidence and charm, clothes seemingly clinging to the coolness of the person whom it inhabits. The places I have not seen are the ones that are most intriguing, and the ones farther afield. Italy is one of these, as I long to stroll around Milan and photograph the women who dress simply for their sun-bathed days, and the men who travel on scooters and wear shorts with their dress shoes. I long to wrap up in knits and faux-fur on the streets of New York, and watch the high fashion walk by on the pounded streets, and see the androgynous styles of the women and men who dress for no-one but themselves. I’d like to sail on a boat in the Caribbean sea, where the strong women dress in the most luminous of colours, and are proud of their bodies, always oozing confidence. To see the beautiful geisha girls of Japan and their meticulous appearance, and the fashion-forward women of its technologically-advanced sister, China. It is with these dreams and aspirations that I realise that though there may be obstacles of language, there are no barriers when it comes to trans-atlantic fashion. Shopping in Paris is the same as shopping in London, which is the same as shopping in Manchester, albeit the numbers have a Euro sign rather than Pound Sterling. The women are the same, as are the men; we are all looking for the piece that will complete our Saturday night outfit, the perfect accessory for that grand wedding or a casual cover-up for those warm and lazy days. Though I may not speak the same language as the shop assistant that serves me, her shy smile when I bring the feathered dress to the counter is all I need to hear; she respects my style. She can envision the item being worn out for drinks as I see it hanging in my wardrobe everyday giving me the biggest grin every time I open the doors. Unlike fashion, style needs no words, no language and no opinions, but just an unspoken nod of respect from a friendly shop assistant who lives in a different country than yours.
