Urban Annoyance #1439- Fashion

Way back in the mists of time, back when the urban jungle was merely but an urban woods, fashion never existed.

Sure, the landed classes would have magnificent dresses and britches and so on but, down at our level, the pleb level, all one peasant could do if wanted to look a bit different to the next peasant was perhaps painting their deer pelt in a different shade or pattern of mud or sticking some grass to his tatty tunic but that was about it. And we were all a lot happier, apart from the low life expectancy, the back breaking labour and the syphilis. Fashion was pretty much unheard, clothes were worn for a bit of dignity and to stop your sensitive parts from being continually snagged on twigs or munched on by animals who thought they were odd looking fruit.

But all that changed with the advent of urbanisation.

Not at first of course, the first 75 years or so of urbanisation were pretty much the same for our ancestors as it was in the countryside, just with more soot, less mud and pastier complexions. Same low life expectancy, same back breaking labour, same syphilis, same cheerful misery and same range of fashion accessories, i.e. beggar all.

However as people moved from the factories to the offices and got more disposable income, so aspirations changed. No longer was it ok to wear the same clothes day after day, wearing them until they were too frayed and your accessories consisted of nothing but the scars from the machinery you worked on. Furthermore, TV showed us what the rich and famous were wearing and us plebs were overcome with jealousy and envy and we wanted what they were wearing. And now, we could afford it too.

And thus began the horrible descent into people being 'fashionable' and being expected to wear clothes that were 'in' for 'this season', not stuff YOU felt was nice or clothes that YOU thought looked good or YOU felt good about yourself in.

No, urbanisation meant YOUR opinions on clothes didn't matter anymore, just as long as you follow the doctrine laid down by the high street stores and the catalogues and looked much like everyone else then you were granted being perceived as popular and beautiful, the twin aspirations of every human being. If you can't follow this doctrine, well fuck you, say the stores.

In a roundabout and somewhat apt way, communism has won, everyone now looks the same, though instead of all wearing poorly assembled grey overalls made by a sad man in Moscow, we are all wearing Topman t-shirts and leggings with shorts made by sad children in the Philippines. And do you know what is to blame? The urban jungle.