Strip away the designer handbag full of buckles, leather and zippers . . . remove the latest blouse that all the "it" girls have . . . peel off the too-tight designer jeans . . . step out of the
$600 heels. Pop off the fake lashes, nails and contacts. Wipe away the Chanel lip stick, Mac blush and Arden eye liner. And if you're that girl, remove the hair piece you put in for the club. What do you have left (besides underwear and I wasn't going to go there this early, sorry folks)?
The point is, what you have left is the person, the person minus the stuff. And no matter how much you dress her (or him) up, paint her, accessorize her, at the end of the day, all you ever really have is that person. Your un-done-up self with all the beliefs, morals, convictions that make you who you are. I often think the more whistles and bells people have on the outside, the more they're trying to hide (from the world and themselves) what's going on inside . . . (or worse yet, they're hiding the fact that nothing is going on internally.)
Clothes are, of course, a great way to hide (think: Paris Hilton... what the hell is going on there?)... but they're also a great way to express yourself. The trick is, not to get lost in the message. And to make sure the message has substance. Speaking of substance:
substance is an experiment in societal metaphysics, manifest by a kid in his basement with a critical mind and too many screen printing chemicals that wont wash off his hands. substance is a critique on the overly materialistic society in which we live, one in which basketball players are paid more then doctors, and status is measured in dollars. substance is designed to challenge mainstream fashion and its ignorance, and to provide an alternative to clothing sold next to mannequins with disproportionate bedonkadonks.
I love Substance's message and adore the shirts. . . although I must admit I do take issue with with the "mannequins with disproportionate bedonkadonks" line. Proportion is all relative my friend . . . Truthfully, I'd love to walk into Dior and see a mannequin with a big ol' booty. And with that line, and way too much coffee, I'm out!
