From COCO & CREME — This is not a rant. Rather an expectant call to arms of all fashion industry aficionados, laypersons and the ambiguous ones in between. Please join me in the official butchery, and jubilant slaying to rest of the word ‘fashionista’, and all of it’s unimaginative offsprings; those including: urbanista, frugalista, recessionista… You understand.
Every time I hear the word ‘fashionsita’ or any of its wretched siblings, the cells in my body become inflamed at the strongest broil. So much that I feel like they’re going to seep out of my coco skin, and fly out of my brownstone off over yonder somewhere–maybe Lesotho? I just can’t.
The strangest paradox here is that fashion folks are supposed to be the inventive ones. The Elsa Schiaparellis, Charles James, Patrick Kellys and Laquan Smiths. Oh but the hilarious thing is, real fashion heads can’t stand the -nista suffixes either. Kathryn Finnely’s The Budget Fashionista is one of my first memories of the term. Her 2006 brilliant and resourceful guide to low-cost high fashion schooled us on everything from taking care of our clothes like stylists, and how to purchase luxury goods on Ebay without chronic paranoia. Thereafter, we’ve experienced a straight onslaught of ‘fashionista’ labeling. Any metropolitan girl in a strong shoulder bodycon, and red bottoms receives the thirsty title.
Nista phraseology is like the New York bed bug infestation–they’re everywhere, and if we’re got by the little sh*ts, we have to clean out our entire wardrobe to make sure they’re all out.