Image via Complex Original
The art world and the fashion world are basically cousins co-existing alongside each other in the grand universe of #influence and #culture and saturated with people who use too many hashtags. The two intersect in an innumerable amount of ways, and so it makes sense that those trying to live in these worlds would share similar experiences in the everyday struggle to flourish. Gallery geeks and fashion bros, your life story essentially follows the same script. Let us break it down for you with 10 Things Art Nerds and Fashion Nerds Have In Common.
You have mixed feelings about Terry Richardson.
You know, that awkward moral quandary when a dude who's made immeasurable contributions to the art and fashion worlds through next-level campaigns and photo shoots is also maybe probably the industry's biggest perv. Hey, at least he gave you a layup icebreaker to start chatting up that pretty lady at the next gallery opening.
If Kanye or Jay Z talk about it you love it even more.
You may scoff on social media at all the newbs who fawn when these two name-drop a new brand or work with an emerging artist but truthfully, you're taking notes at all the names you have to now obsess over. What's more, you love that Hova and Yeezus just gave you a platform to stunt on all your Philistine friends with the ill "Itoldyouso"—read: you mentioned said designer/artist once and never brought it up or thought about it again. The Throne taught you.
No one except fellow nerds understand what you're talking about.
You're so tethered to the exclusive black hole of niche information and obscurity that your squad couldn't give a fuck about. Some crazy story breaks while you're at brunch and at this point even trying to explain so everyone else at the table can relate just gets met with derisive looks, because you are a niche news fancy snob. Embrace it.
You can't afford the very things you nerd out over.
It's not that you're broke, per se. Moreso, the cops that would consummate your taste level would run the price of a decent suburb-ready sedan. You're more likely to Instagram the stuff you really want than ever cop it in the near future (and beyond, probs). So here you are, dreaming of going gawd-level and perusing Complex for an A1 and very useful post about how to go something like false-idol instead.
You can go on for hours about how Robert Smithson made more than just piles of dirt and the real craft and thought behind a Rick Owens shirt made from one piece of fabric, but you cannot accurately describe what it feels like to touch a boob.
You form mini-crushes on every other woman you see at fashion week/art galleries, but don't actually have the courage to talk to any of them. The quality of women at these events erases every win and mental confidence you've stored up over the years, reducing you to a quasi-virginal standaround guy muttering about how "bold" *insert work* is while you struggle to hold eye-contact.
You're on a first name basis with the security at museums/boutiques.
If you're really about the life you claim, then the arbiters of the space your universe occupies—read: the security guards that open the door for you—should know you quite well. In the case of galleries and stores though, more because you're a steady and loyal windowshopper than for the 3 out of every 4 visits in which you actually spend money.
You've lived off of crab cakes, mini cupcakes, and other hors d'oeuvres served at events for the last 5 years.
The Food Guide pyramid missed a crucial block pertaining to influencers only. Who has time for a fully balanced sit-down meal when you're out here on site at various gallery parties, boutique events, and brand-sponsored parties (all of which are 80% likely to be held in hotels you'll never stay in)? Shit, you probably know one or two members on the wait staff as well as you know security. Post up near the entrance to the makeshift kitchen and enjoy all the sustenance you need to flourish on the scene and survive multiple rounds of free booze.
Weird haircuts and expensive coffee are your thing.
You're probably trying to finesse a perfectly composed shot of your iced coffee, alphet, and background artwork as you read this. Your cousin who only 'Grams happy moments with his family is confused and not-so-secretly ashamed of your digital existence.
You have a love/hate relationship with mass-retail collaborations.
From one perspective, you're happy to see a brand/artist you've championed for awhile reach a larger audience and rake in some well-deserved guap. But from another, it's like wow, a whole legion of corny people are about to front like they're experts and swiftly saturate this corner of the culture. Not to mention, the collab is most likely butt to begin with.
Your parents are ashamed of what you have become.
Parents just don't understand. They figured you'd do something worthwhile with your life. Instead you're out here flexing that college degree as you purchase four-figure clothes that might go out of style in the next 18 months and a rare piece of art to hang on the wall of your modest studio apartment that no one ever comes through. You'll show them when your influencer credit score soars to new heights. Just give it time...