Defining Style (Part I)

Among Coco Chanel’s numerous quotes, many of which were frivolous comments upon costume jewelry or on the importance of perfume to a woman’s future (for reference, the exact quote would be: “A woman who doesn’t wear perfume has no future”—exaggerated, of course, but surely holds some truth because we all know the key to attracting and alluring  men is to appeal to their olfactory sense), one was uttered with wisdom.

“Fashion fades, and only style remains.” 

And that, mes chéries, is quite true.

The ever-adorable Miroslava Duma

The words “fashion and “style” have been used interchangeably and almost ubiquitously. But in doing so one is mistaken; the words are hardly synonymous. Their connotations are similar in our everyday language, without a doubt, but their denotations differ quite extensively. The former speaks of change. Fashion inevitably changes as trends fall to the wayside, and a “new black” emerges along with the next “it” handbag every season. (My conscious implores me to mention that there is, and will never be, such a thing as a “new black.” Never. Ever.) Fashion cycles in the path of the infinitive figure eight. Case in point: the last year or so was dark, Baroque, heavy with depression. Grunge-rock made studs, lumber-jack plaids, and Doc Martens all the rage. Enter spring of 2010: the softer, romantic side of fashion has resurfaced, with ethereal peaches and beautifully draped dresses. Et cetera.

Style, however, remains the same. But “same” does not mean it is stagnant or flat—style is ever evolving (quite different from changing, mind you), dynamic and dimensional. Style constantly undergoes evolution. It develops and gains through experience. There is depth to each facet, a depth that extends beyond what is seen. That depth is the story behind each personal choice—perhaps this icon or that stranger influenced you, however minute, or a certain piece was a family heirloom. Style is not what is taken off the racks because it so happened to be the trend of the season.

Style is an aesthetic emotion. It is what appeals to you—ethos, pathos, logos—the whole lot. own reason for the attraction. Regardless, that something about it pulls you in. The question is, however, whether or not it is innate. Is it learned, conditioned from what you have always seen? Or is it just there, inexplicably there?

It’s largely debatable, like one of those which-came-first-the-chicken-or-the-egg arguments or like the many psychological perspectives of behavior: psychodynamic, behavioristic, humanistic, biopsychological, cognitive, the likes. I do believe that your personal aesthetics, or eye for style, is intrinsic. The reason for that phase of trying and shedding new things is merely part of that path of self-discovery. For some style comes quite easily. For others, it requires a bit more of trial-and-error to see what feels right before they find that consistent look. It then evolves, developing as it adapts to your growth as an individual.

. . .

x

P.S.: I realize I am being particular with words; I’m well aware. Regardless, I find it fascinating how such similar words can mean so many things! I’m such a nerd. There, I beat you to it.

P.P.S.: Read Part II.

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