Saturday night, in the midst of the This Is New York party during Fashion Week, among a sea of black clothes and dark stares, Rameet Chawla (his feature is upcoming), without a care for what anyone else might be thinking, was shamelessly dancing his ass off, and the whole time I was in awe of him.
StyleLikeU has become my forum to “crush” on everyone… well, not everyone — mostly just the gems who we interview, especially a few uninhibited, not-suppressed-from-expressing-themselves men, like the aforementioned Rameet.
Somehow, I’ve encountered all four of my current crushes during Fashion Week. I am very thankful for these run-ins. They’ve lifted me up when I’ve felt down or alone at a presentation wondering why I felt that people were looking at me weird for wearing Vans.
Earlier in the day on Saturday, alongside Anyisa, one of our adorable SLU interns, I went to Raif Adelberg’s show. I don’t think Raif would ever be caught dancing at the This Is New York party in the carefree way that Rameet was. But Raif is cool in his own right. When he’s back in Vancouver he goes to bed at eight and rises with the sun to go ice fishing with an elderly Native American man — Dream Central for someone like me who could one day move to Woodstock and become a Zen Buddhist Monk. Yes, I’d drop it all to find my center within, away from material things and the insubstantial goals that our society somehow turns into materials. I think I’d love the Monk uniform. Their robes are similar to my Rick Owens dresses. I would also love to just wear Raif’s designs. They’re Comme meets a Native American tribe, and, to me, there is nothing better than that.
So, Raif, if I had the guts, I’d probably be making a move (you too, Rameet).
Between Elisa, Lily, and me, a bit of an inside joke has developed about how easily and openly I fall in love with the people who we interview. In fact, I probably say “I love ——” about fifty times a day (and hopefully not in a cliche kind of way). Sometimes, after, say, my fifteenth declaration of love in a day, the three of us fall into a laughing fit. But I genuinely feel a strong sense of compassion for the people who share their stories with us. Maybe it’s that there is nothing more attractive than someone who is vulnerable. Whatever it is, despite my true love for them, I haven’t quite figured out what to do with it. All my crushes have girlfriends, and it never really dawns on me that they may feel the way about me that I do about them. After all, it’s only taken me a year to realize that the guy who works in the gelato shop that I frequent has a crush on me and I still haven’t done anything about it.
On Sunday, after sleeping off This Is New York, I ran into Adam Green at the magazine store on Avenue A. He was taking a break from his Sunday painting and I was on my way to Fashion Week presentations and shows with Louis. But I have to say, I would rather have been painting with Adam. Since we interviewed him about how he was called a faggot in high school and how now he just wants to hang out with his fellow “faggot friends,” I’ve been head over heels for his ability to make me laugh. I was equally as high when Adam and I, both neurotic and nervous, hugged about five times. When I met up with Louis, I squealed to him about my high.
Attending the shows, after my run in with Adam, brought me into a sad stupor about the image obsessed nature of the industry. But then I was reminded of a SLU muse who recently stopped by the office, Alec Friedman, who was here visiting and then intelligently fleeing NYC before the beginning of Fashion Week! MY HERO. If only I could have hopped a plane to Portland(ia) alongside Alec and not have to worry about the next fashion week party or encounter with a fashionista in my Vans.
To all my crushes, I say thank you! You inspire me and lift me up, not just during woeful Fashion Week, but on a daily basis. Though for now, I’ll be snuggling with Redmond…
-Ramona Canino, Executive Editor.