Sincerely Candid

By Salem Ross

Photos by Emma Bowen

Clothing defines us—if it didn’t we wouldn’t invest in it. With styles being recycled from decades prior, the idea of individuality becomes narrower with every cycle. Everything that once was is repackaged into the mundane, watering down one’s genuine style. The more overt effort made, the less believable it is that you live the life portrayed in the internet sphere. Online you can be whoever. You can be a multitude of different versions of yourself that others see you as. You can seemingly be candid, rather than living in the moment, you post idly in it. None of the clothes one wears defines their character, but a strong personality can make a t-shirt and jeans look groundbreaking. While fashion magazines depict only the style of a person, the internet age brought forth personality in an outfit.

Ties and Button-ups were scattered among the city streets. Items of professionalism became adjacent to club culture. The attitude one has towards staying up all night to the bassline and crunching numbers are vastly different, but they are true to themselves in the same way. Putting on loafers with a shoe horn at the foot of the bed. Are they going to the discothèque or the office? It's hard to tell the difference at first glance when they all smoke the same cigarettes.

As the day transitions, it's the same person, just with a loosened tie past 9 pm. This businessman-gone-wild style has been a thing for decades, highlighted in the 2000s with bands such as The Hives or Pete Doherty. There was a status symbol of a suit, it portrayed high-grade intellect. Cufflinks and ties combined with the cheapest beer on tap made way for this half-joking, half-dead-serious feeling of wonder for an audience. Over the years, this ensemble became more disheveled. That jaded break room look was captured in bathroom stalls on front page covers. The look never changed but you could tell who belonged to what just by stances and how they wore the clothes.

When MTV’s $2 concert series was adorned with The Strokes in their neckties and tired eyes, the Salvation Army attitude was born. Effortless. You know their personalities before even earring a single lyric from Casablancas’s cigarette-clad lips. Jeans being paired with the spiffy accessories was more proof of the band’s fast lives, not being bothered enough to fix up their look because what mattered was how they sounded. Their clothes were a mockery of what respect meant because in a way to care about being respected was to be boring. To take into consideration what others thought of them was a waste of time. Icons such as The Strokes were poster boys for this era from sound to looks.

As copy-pastes of this style flooded through sites from Flicker to Myspace, the office grunge hybrid was a staple. The American Apparel agenda pushed forth the narrative of ‘I don't care what you think of me, actually I do care, like a lot. But you’ll never know by the looks of my attitude. Contradictory to what was perceived, behind the scenes was a mimic of what was going on in pop culture. That was achievable for the modern person, no matter their class. Putting that minimal effort into a look made whatever was worn stand out from the flashy neons and logomania of the pre-recession era.

Where will the lens take you tonight? Maybe against the bar, eyes glossed from staring at the bodies moving around you and your friends. The white shirt you wore is now almost see-through with all the sweat and spilled drinks that have christened it. Tights are now mere ribbons on your legs and your friend is next to you staring into the camera of a total stranger. They smile at the photographer, knowing you are too caught up in the energy around you to even notice how untouchable you look. To be together in this moment is captured in a flash, literally. These photos were purely candid, purely organic.