Proof That Fashion = Fascism

Dress codes are inhumane, pointless. Evil television shows where they put you in a circle of mirrors to show you how "crappy" you dress are post-Fordist nightmares of conformity. The imperative to tuck in shirts is a sizist plot. Hitler was known to utter the phrase "Beauty knows no pain" on several occasions. Christ, you can't even carry a freakin' backpack without fielding all sorts of normative questions. And the one fashion/hair guru I've had in my life turned out to be a moral weakling.

Yes, I have always suspected that there was a direct link between fashion and fascism. But now I have PROOF! At a recent party, some friends and I were talking about various sockless footwear - Birkenstocks, flip flops, sandals, the like. Somehow the subject of wearing socks with Birkenstocks came up and the Birkenstocked Bryan Sebok remarked "You know why you're not supposed to wear socks with sandals? Because it's soooooo fuckin' comfortable. You slip on some Birkenstocks while wearing socks and you just want to go to sleep."

And there you have it. "Fashion" over comfort. Beauty knows no pain. The elimination of any sartorial element that would suggest alternatives to the productivist character of American capitalism (no sleeping on the job!). In short, a recipe for Nazi takeover.

Fortunately, capitalism has offered a solution (which is all it ever does). Much as I love the look of bare feet encased in flip flops, check out the cutie pie below sporting FLIP FLOP SOCKS!



Notice the natural (seeming) light flowing in from the left. It's probably late September somewhere in the midwest, around three or four in the afternoon. Dinner is another hour or two off in the distance. And thus, this moment captured. The summer has indeed died hard. He looks off towards some beach or backyard activity. It looks fun but nothing compelling enough to get up and join. No, he'll chill back. And who knows? Maybe if the activity becomes more self-involved, he can steal a smooch (or more) from the person sitting next to him, cloaking themselves in any available shadows. But no. The socks. The flip flops. The combination subtly overwhelms more carnal desires. Oh well. He won't be able to exploit his good looks for he will soon die into intense comfort. Off, off into gentle slumber, the productivist potential of sex effectively thwarted. Don't bug him. Just let him sleep for a bit.

Ok time for a disco nap.

Clean Out Your Bookmarks - Xgau Axed!

Dear Friends and Colleagues,
If this comes completely out of the blue, I apologize.
It is now official--Village Voice Media fired me today, "for
taste," which means (among other things) slightly sweeter
severance. This despite the support of new music editor Rob
Harvilla, who I like as a person and a writer. We both believed I
had won myself some kind of niche as gray eminence. So I was
surprised Tuesday when I was among the eight Voice employees
(five editorial, three art) who were instructed to bring their
union reps to a meeting with upper management today. But I
certainly wasn't shocked--my approach to music coverage has never
been much like that of the New Times papers,
Bless the union, my severance is substantial enough to give me
time to figure out what I'm doing next. In fact, having finished
all my freelance reviews yesterday, I don't have a single
assignment pending. So, since I have no intention of giving up
rock criticism, all reasonable offers entertained; my phone
number is in the book, as they used to say when there were books.
What I don't need is a vacation--the three of us just had a great
two and a half weeks, and Nina matriculated at BMCC yesterday.
No need to respond. Forward to whoever you will.
Love,
Bob Christgau