good design, good diction

something along the lines of what I'm going for.

- photo from JAK & JILL BLOG

I used to be someone who aspired to good design with a lot more fervor/passion. Sturdy things with functional beauty, clean lines and sweeping curves interested me. I even began to refashion my vocabulary; where a friend was once described as a deeply loyal and loving girl in search of a beau, she became a "veritable wellspring of love to be given." In an effort to keep words from getting in my way (and from sounding like Tim Gunn), I began to pare down. And I've seen this linguistic pruning begin to carry over into other aspects of my self-presentation. Blazers were replaced by cardigans, cotton traded for flannel-- sometimes at the most inappropriate of seasons (omg, am I turning into a hipster?). I've attributed all these design changes in my life--from my room, to my language, to my self-- to several things:

• Kyle. Someone simple, down-to-earth, interested in Coco Rocha only for the fact that she got on his model sister's nerves during Fall 05 Milan Fashion Week. His urban yogi aesthetic has, even in the short span of two months, had a lot of influence on my general self-presentation.
• The recession. Where I could once pretend I had money to spend on an outrageously priced sweater, I can no longer hide from the fact that I have bills to pay and long-term economic goals (god, I sound like an adul(l)t). For similar reasons of eschewing extravagance, the $10 words have also begun to go out the window (although that sentence may have contradicted this point).
• A general lack of design inspiration. Where am I going, what am I doing, aesthetically? A friend once told me I'd created a very strong and distinct self-mythology. Well where, praytell, is this Goosebumps choose-your-path tale going? Will I come out of the hauntingly hipster Columbia University with some of my preppiness intact, or am I destined to a becardiganed life forever?

I'd like to think that I'll reach an aesthetic middle ground, somewhere where I feel comfortable in both my plaid wool and my starched cotton. Until then, I'll keep pouring over Garance and JAK & JILL and hope that something, anything reaches out to me from this terrifyingly erratic aesthetic abyss.