It’s a weird state of affairs for people this time of year. Even in the Cynical Mecca that is the United Kingdom it has fascinated me how nostalgic people get around the dawn of a New Year. Factor that in with the fact that you’ve been sat with them listening to them bitch all year long and, for me, something had to give. I’ve made a list of stuff that I want never to darken my doorstep in the year 2013 and beyond, in the hopes of restoring some balance and good judgement before we all end up buying Windows ’95 and Sunny Delight in an explosion of fond but perhaps-not-so-accurate memories.
I’ve got a hell of a lot to say about this one, so expect a more in-depth article soon, but I really hope this shit dies down soon. 2012 was a rollercoaster of bad taste and corny product, and I still get shudders when I think of some of the awful shit that has happened. I’ll just give a list of some of the things that I know we all want to see less of next year. If you disagree with any of the things I have listed then a) you’re probably wearing them and, failing that, b) you’re wrong. Trust me on this one, you’re dead wrong.
– Pinch-rolled jeans / Elasticated jeans: You realise that this was originally done by sneakerheads that didn’t want to get Indigo leaking onto their trainers right? You realise that isn’t really an issue with your Topman Chinos? You realise that you just look like a dickhead? Oh, my bad, I thought you had pinch-rolled your jeans, it turns out they’re elastic-cuffed chinos. So you wanted to look like one of those guys, but didn’t have the brainpower to fathom how he could have done it without throwing more money at the cookie-cutter fashion conglomerate? Fair play. Do you still buy velcro shoes as well?
– SWAG: Until about a year ago the word swag was known in the UK Grime scene to describe something that is shitty, sub-par, uncool or lacking talent. If any of you kids were anywhere near as ‘street’ as you act then you would surely know it, as it’s street knowledge happening in your own back garden. But you don’t. Have fun listening to Weezy, keep it real.
– Patterned pocket t-shirts: It doesn’t take a genius to buy a punch of cheap t-shirts and whack a curtain fabric onto the left chest. My heart weeps for all the talented seamstresses and tailors up and down the country who have been denied quality patterns and fabrics because they’ve all been snapped up by dimwitted fucks who want to try and sell 10 minute’s work for £30 a pop. Stop doing it. It has been done to death and none of you have a clue what you are doing.
– Snapbacks: You live in Epsom and you’ve never seen the Atlanta Braves in your entire life. I don’t think you even know what sport they play. I’m not even sure you care. I’m not even sure you’re conscious right now.
– OBEY / ONLY / ALIFE etc. etc. etc.: None of the people wearing Alife now would even know that it genuinely used to be one of the hot brands coming out of NYC with some of the hardest graphics and top quality garments. Now it’s been unceremoniously swept (by association or by rebranding, I’m not sure) into the Umbrella category of “Brands with a nice big logo so that every poor fuck who walks past you knows that you are indeed wearing the brand that you are wearing”, and it’s depressing as fuck. You morons do understand that Shepard Fairey started out doing street art about not buying into mass-marketing and capitalist ideology, the idea of thinking for yourself and not just blindly wearing cool labels? No? Well, in fact, there is more to streetwear than big logos and italic sans-serif fonts and the sooner you cunts lose your fascination with our sub-cultures and scenes the better. You don’t skate. You don’t like hip-hop. You don’t like trainers. You don’t like graff. You don’t listen to hardcore. You’ve never robbed in your life. Your name is Harry, you go to an all-boys school and your parents paid for your tickets to Zante this Summer. Hop off our dick.
I don’t even know why I’m putting this guy in. Not because I don’t utterly despise him, oh believe me, I do, but I just can’t be so naive and ignorant to truly believe that 2012 was the end for this bumbling thundercunt. I do, however, think it’s important that we establish a few things for Mr. Bull (I assume that’s right, though I’m not sure from where the family name originates) so that he can maybe move on and spare us all his fucking tedium even slightly in the coming year:
– We have established that you like to go to clubs.
– We have established that when at aforementioned clubs, you often meet Women of various ethnicities and backgrounds, though you are partial to Latin American girls, with, as you like to call them, ‘big ol’ booties’.
– We have established that when you are in these clubs you often make grandiose purchases of various brand name spirits and liquers. It’s fortunate that you remember the specific brands or you might not be able to demand payment for mentioning them throughout all of your songs.
– We have established that you like wearing sunglasses. Let me break this one down for you; sunglasses when it’s sunny – acceptable; sunglasses indoors – perhaps you’re a celebrity trying to hide their identity, fine, whatever; sunglasses in clubs – you are a fucking cunt; sunglasses in music videos, cars, clubs, bars, and anywhere else that you can possibly pose and look ‘fly’ – I hope your next club banger explodes so hard it disfigures your nose, rendering you unable to wear the fucking things anymore.
– We have established that you like talking out of the side of your mouth. I don’t know why. Perhaps you think it makes you look fun and cheeky, or perhaps it’s about looking badass and dangerous. Again, I’ll explain; you look like you’re having a stroke, and that ridiculous one-sided shoulder pop you do only arouses further suspicions.
Seriously, I have no interest in engaging conversation with anybody on this collaboration. It made so little sense, it was tasteless as shit and was a pathetic lumping together of previous concepts that the brand had executed, repackaged and sold to a stupider generation.
Firstly, clearly the allusion was toward Andy Warhol and the Pop Art scene. “Wow! Cool!”, they all said. “I love Andy Warhol!”, they openly declared on their news feeds. Except this wasn’t a Warhol collaboration. It was a collaboration with a Soup company. Yes, that’s right, a soup company. Of the people with enough brain cells to draw this distinction, there were then people actually trying to draw stupid links between their working class roots and the fact they used to always eat soup, meaning that it was the “perfect collaboration” for them. Fuck off. Seriously, fuck off. I just don’t want to engage in discussion with a moron who genuinely thinks they’re sharing part of their hardship by wearing soup on their chest.
Secondly, the entire style and application was done three years back with the Budweiser collaboration. Way better. I can’t even try to separate these two collaborations because they really are clones. The Budweiser stuff was way classier, made good use of all of the Bud imagery and styling and kept everything clean. The Campbell’s stuff looks like it was whacked together in Paintshop Pro comparatively.
Thirdly, just explain to me what outfit you plan on wearing with your Soup shoes. Oh, that’s right, they’re obviously the ‘stand-out’ piece of an outfit. What this means is that guys will wear these out, get called up by other guys on the fact that they’re wearing Soup shoes, and then will proceed to either a) Share their love of Supreme and ramble for forty fucking minutes about how much they wish they’d kwapped ‘that piece’ last season or b) discuss the general concept of soup on a shoe like some kind of ridiculous experimental film called “Werner Herzog Deconstructs His Shoe”.
But then, I could be wrong. After all, I had always thought that Supreme Vans collaborations were never that special and were just a standard Vans with a pattern whacked on, but apparently this connoisseur knows better. Ladies and gentleman, please refer yourselves to my first point about the streetwear explosion.
Following his divorce from Katy “Who needs talent when you have product placement?” Perry back in July we’ve heard next to nothing about this glorified oxygen-depletion system, and I couldn’t be fucking happier. The world of comedy in the 21st century is becoming more and more polarised between genuine humour and talentless fucks substituting a high voice / stupid accent / hyperactivity / obnoxious shouting for any genuinely funny content.
Fuckwit Brand was a car crash of a combination of these traits, and I can only hope that the general public has finally come to understand that it takes more to be a comedian than to just repeaty-weat every other phrasey-wase with a double-u-wubble-u unlovingly smashed onto the end like so many speckles of glitter sprinkled onto a lacklustre turd.
While the rest of the world was busy pouring out envy over Brand and his recently found ‘romance’ with ‘singer’ and ‘entertainer’ Katy, I started to ponder what it actually was that Brand had to be envied, considering his career has consisted mainly of people calling him an arsehole and his partner’s greatest ability is to look into a camera and smile about crap for money. Then I realised there was nothing, and that the general public are just vacuous morons desperate to shove their faces into the same, thankless trough. Merry Christmas.
This surely must be the end. SURELY. Following his experimentation in dancing on the graves of exterminated cultures with this ‘JS Wings Totem‘ release, a brief moment of trying to integrate slavery and sneakers (God knows how much we needed it) and… well… these, surely, surely, Lord in Heaven, SURELY this must be it.
As with Pitbull, I’m really not holding my breath on this one – we’re still trying to cure Cancer, remember. Put it this way though, I’m pretty fed up with people like Nicki Minaj and Lady Gaga making it acceptable for people to go out looking like the hideous lovechild of an epileptic baboon and the opening sequence from Home Improvement.
There is nothing fashionable or stylish about what Jeremy Scott does. Please, please get this into your heads. I’m not being slow, I do get it, one of the sleeves has cupcakes all over it, and the other is made out of half-melted velvet. Guess what, it’s still shit, you still look ridiculous and your parents are still trying to get you terminated.
That’s your lot for now.