they make you believe you’re right in March and dead wrong in September.
trends pass. but why?
if something comes back, it’s “vintage”.
there always has to be a label.
you can’t simply keep loving something.
you have to ask for permission.
few art forms do this so ruthlessly.
nobody tells you the painting you bought last year has expired because a new one exists.
a painting accumulates meaning and value over time.
a garment loses them.
fashion sells the new by making the old feel like a mistake. a sin.
Simmel wrote in 1904 that fashion dies of its own success.
the more it spreads, the closer it gets to its end.
the more people love it, the further the elite flee.
enslaved by the same amnesia they sell.
but evolving through subtraction alone is a systemic risk.
if every season takes away, none preserves.
eventually there’s no memory left to build on.
until there’s nothing left to evolve.
beautiful things disappear
even when they still deserve space.
more time.
why do we sabotage ourselves like this?
we glorify a garment.
throw it away after three wears.
slaves to the calendar.
nothing accumulates this way. no style, no value, no history.
just new, even crude, as long as it’s new.
when newness is the only criterion, quality becomes optional.
then perhaps, decades later, we dig it out.
when nobody remembers anymore.
and it can return as a discovery.
and we applaud ourselves for finding what we threw away.
a culture that throws away its ideas every six months is forgetting at high speed.
and calling it progress.
a prank can expose the absurdity.
cheap shoes. an Italian name. an invented story. a luxury store that didn’t exist a minute earlier.
people buy.
they buy context, belonging. not shoes.
we do the opposite.
we take concepts from previous work and push them further.
pieces from last season return in the new one, in a new way.
the past is a warehouse full of possibilities,
waiting for someone curious and brave enough
to change it and bring it back to life.
