homeless boy by Marivi
.BOYS.TO.MEN.TO.FASHIONISTAS.
Shallow and Hungry
Mukuro feels shallow. Mukuro feels very
shallow. But Mukuro cannot
deny that his body looks smoking hot in riding
boots and that old-fashion-looking jacket with the bronze colored buttons.
Mukuro has possessed enough people to know that
being possessed is not always flattering on the person/plant/animal being
possessed, but hot damn he looks fiiine. Mukuro is a little pissed that he
can't think in more complex sentences. But he is stuck in the body of an owl.
An owl. Despite how the Ancient Greeks used to
believe owls were goddess of wisdom's pet bird, Mukuro can only finish
acknowledging he looks hot before he gets hungry. his eyes on Sawada Tsunayoshi
for the time being. Boy does that boy look mousy.
---
Para ser honesto no sabía que
escribir y como lograr completamente lo
que quería decir. Sigo sin explicarme como llegue en aquel blog de anime y
aunque no tuvieran exactamente sentido estos nueve renglones de arriba, esa
misma confusión me inspiro de repente.
Siempre
quise hacer esto pero nunca me había animado, todo empezó con un largo viaje
por Sudamérica [hasta ahora el más
presente] y es ahí cuando me fui dando cuenta que no era el único, que accidentalmente representaba una pequeña
parte (insignificante) de esos chicos que me encontré; aquellos que el vestirse
es mucho más que una simple rutina de las masas ó un habito compartido dentro
del imaginario colectivo; sino que la moda se vuelve un refugio, se transforma
en un espacio personal, inamovible del espíritu de quienes somos dentro de esta
urbe donde nos movemos y nos hace pertenecer. Pude darme cuenta de lo
importante que es la individualidad celebrando quienes somos, celebrando
nuestras elecciones y aún más, celebrando la moda.
Celebro
esto por todos ellos. Por Ev, su piel decorada y esas joyas estáticas en su
cuerpo que lo hacen ser él; por esas botas rojas que me compre en San Telmo.
Esto es para los chicos que no encajamos, o tal vez si; para aquellos que
tenemos algo que nadie más tiene y lo escondemos en esa caja debajo de la cama,
los coleccionistas y los fetichistas; los que nos robamos ese collar de aquella
tienda. Mis skinny boys, que somos tan delgados pero eso nunca nos detiene,
porque sabemos coser, deformar y reformar nuestra ropa, o simplemente compramos
en el área de niños. Por lo horrible que es toparte a alguien con tus mismas
gafas; para los que vimos el fashion week en el asiento más lejano, por los que
lo vimos después en segunda fila. Incluso por aquellos que sabemos más de Marc
Jacobs que los que tienen un par de Vuitton.
¿Acaso
no es cierto? todos los que tenemos ese amigo especial que le gusta comprar en
mango y usar make-up [ cuanto te quiero P, eres un Trendy Boy ]; y claro, los
que tenemos esa Jacket FW/11 de Zara que era idéntica a la de Burberry pero los
botones eran de plástico. Todos aquellos que nos gustan los bolsos; esos chicos
trendy de aquella noche en el Resto [ que rico mojito ]; por ese martini en el
Faena. Por su puesto, mis chicas desde el País Vasco, pasando por Andalucía y
terminando en las Canarias [ Ca, I, k, y Co, Lil’ Jimmi las ama]; las mejores
amigas que me pude topar en este viaje: S, C y K, [ son lo más, boludas ]. Las mejores colegas [ A, M & F grossas ]
¿Cómo olvidarlo?, por esos estúpidos chicos que nos arruinaron la noche a Vi y
a mí en aquel bar... [¿Que traían puesto? Sigo sin entenderlo]. No podían
faltar, por mis clones everywhere LOL.
Igualmente,
esto es para los que nunca es suficiente cuando hablamos de moda; por los que
jamás me dijeron de donde eran sus borcegos; por los que nos da orgullo decir
que lo hicimos nosotros. Así mismo, todos los que sabemos comprar algo thrifted
y hacerlo chic. Aquellos que queremos ser enterrados alado de Mcqueen y
Beyonce. Dedico esto, a los chicos que estamos acostumbrados a que la gente nos
mire raro [ and we dont give a SHHHH..]. Aquella fiesta fancy, donde nos
pusimos la corbata durante el camino, dentro del metro antes de bajar en
Avenida Juramento. Los que llegamos sin ser invitados; de igual forma los que nos
esperan para empezar la fiesta. Los gloriosos días de rebajas; los días de
window shopping [¬¬’]. Los que dejamos apartado eso que sabíamos bien nunca
compraríamos; los listos que lo escondimos, aun mejor, los que sí lo compramos.
Esa sensación de Nirvana cuando pasamos la tarjeta de crédito LOL.
Gracias
a todos esos lugares que me inspirarón y aquel chico que me tope en el baño de
un bar y me pregunto por estos jeans. Gracias a mis amigos por ser complices de
esto [ Hc, F, Ac, So, Sa, Mv, Ak, GG, Jv xoxo ].
A todos los que consumimos diseño de autor y nos gusta el esmalte negro.
A los que tenemos esa sensei en la moda [ Lu <3 ]. A mis extraordinarios
fotografos [ Mv, Su, Ma, B. you guys are fierce! ]. Finalmente, esto es por y para
ustedes: Mis Flawless boys [Pc, S, E, Po, B & Al. <3 <3 <3
<3<3<3].
T.B.M.
---
To be honest I didn’t know what to write in
order to reach completely what I wanted to say. I still don’t realize how I got
in that anime’s site and even though the phrase above didn’t make sense at all,
that confusion caused me a sudden inspiration.
I
always wanted to do this but I guess never had the courage to. Everything
started while I was traveling in South America [ until now, the most present
trip ]. And it was there when I realized that I wasn’t the only one.
Accidentally, I used to represent a small (insignificant) part of these guys I
met. Those who dressing means more than a simple routine of masses nor a shared
habit within the collective imaginary. Instead, fashion becomes a shelter. It
turns into a personal space attached to the spirit that defines us inside this
macro-space where we transit and belong. I realized as well the importance of
individuality celebrating who we are, celebrating our choices and even more
celebrating fashion.
I
celebrate this for all of them. To Ev, for his skin decorated and those jewels
immovable to his body that make him be. Of course, those red boots I got in San
Telmo. This is for the boys who do not fit, or maybe we do. As well for those
who have something that nobody else has and usually hide it inside that case
under the bed, the collectors, the fetishists. This is for those who stole that
necklace from that store. To my skinny boys, even if we are so thin nothing
stop us because we know how to sew, twist or reform our clothes. Moreover, we
ended buying in the children’s department. The terrible moment of meeting
someone with your same glasses [ WTF ]. Also, to the ones we saw the fashion
week from the farthest seat and then again we saw it from the second row. As
well, to the guys who know more about Marc Jacobs unlike the people who have a
par of Vuitton.
Isn’t
it true? All those lucky guys who have that friend who loves shopping at mango
and wear occasionally make-up [ I love you so much P, you are a Trendy Boy ].
To all we have that FW/11 Zara Jacket which was exactly like the Burberry one
but only with plastic buttons. Everyone who loves man purses. To all the chic
dudes sitting with me that night at the Resto. [ what amazing mojito ]. For
that martini at the Faena Hotel. Of course, my girls from the Basque Country
through Andalucía and ending at the Canary Islands. [ Ca, I, K & Co, lil’
jimmi loves you ]. The best friends I could never imagine finding in this trip:
S, C & K [ you guys are the best, boludas ]. The best colleagues [A, M
& F amazing girls ]. How could I forget? Those douchebags who tried to ruin
us the night to Vi and me at that bar [what they were wearing? I still don’t
get it ]. Could not miss, my clones everywhere LOL.
Evenly,
this is for those who’s never enough when it comes to fashion. To the guys who
never told me where they got those boots. Everyone who feels proud to say that
is made by themselves. All we are known for buying something thrifted and
making it chic. Those few who want to be buried next to McQueen and Beyonce. I
dedicate this to all those guys who are used to being looked at strangely [ and
we don’t give a SHHHH.. ]. That Fancy party where we put the tie on the road
inside the subway before dropping at Juramento Street. The boys who arrived
uninvited. As well, the boys who are necessary to start the party. The glory
days of sales, the window shopping ones [ ¬¬’ ]. Those who reserved something
knowing they weren’t going to return there and buy it. The smart ones who hide
it. Even better, us that actually bought it. That nirvana state kinda feeling
when we pass the credit card LOL.
Thanks
to all those places that inspired me and that guy in the bar that stopped me to
ask me for my jeans. Thanks to all my friends for being partners in crime on
this one [ Hc, F, Ac, Mv, Ak, So, Sa, GG, Jv xoxo]. To everyone who support
independent fashion and loves black n-polish. As well, all we have a fashion
guru [Lu <3]. To my extraordinary photographers [ Mv, Su, Ma, B. you guys
are fierce! ]. Finally, this is for you guys: My flawless boys [Pc, Se, E, Po,
B & Al. <3 <3 <3 <3<3<3].
T.B.M.
ps: sorry 'bout my english I did my best. LOL
