This week I have been trying to establish myself as a fashion brand. I figured that most people who are somebody have their own fashion label these days, from Will.I.Am to Matthew “Fred” Perry. Well, since any old nutter can step into Versace’s shoes and claim themselves as a fashion icon, who am I to pass up on the opportunity? I may know next to nothing about fashion and my look has been described as “Distressing” by anyone in the business, but I can’t let tiny details like that put me off. Here’s a diary of my progress so far:
Monday: First off, I decided I would evaluate current trends in the fashion industry and do some much needed research. Since it was a red hot summer’s day, I decided to look into swimsuits on the Internet. Five hours and two bleeding pupils later, I decided that I would actually have to do some research.
One of the first things I noticed is that designers are combining clothing together for double function. Jeggings, jorts, shoe boots, they’re all hideous amalgamations of two items of clothing, stitched together like disgusting frankenclothes. This was a trend I could easily embrace. It would take little effort to combine clothes together and doesn’t need a great deal of imagination. I hit the drawing board straight away, then realised I’d broken it and went to buy another.
Tuesday: The morning was spent doing some intense brainstorming. Then I remembered that the term “brainstorm” is offensive to people with mental issues, so I ditched all my work and started again. This time, I spent the afternoon doing a mind map, which was awesome because it’s exactly the same as a brainstorm but makes you sound like a neurosurgeon.
|Feel the immense power of my mind mapping.|
After some intense mind mapping, plus a short break to research swimsuits again, my ideas were laid out in front of me. It was a veritable battlefield of creativity, an intricate tapestry woven from thought-filled threads. After crossing out all the ideas involving sharks, I looked over my remaining ideas and felt rather optimistic that I could create something really special.
Wednesday: The time had come to bring my creations to life, but I needed some models to wrap those fabrics around. I didn’t know where to get models at such short notice, but then I noticed a bunch of beardy guys rooting around in the bins outside Tesco who didn’t seem to be doing anything. I hired these bums immediately, relieved them of their lice-ridden parkas, and began to drape materials over their unkempt forms.
I had hoped to create clothing for women, because as a fashion designer, no one likes to see a man in the nude. However, it is surprising how few vagrants are actually female. My little harem of models was all male and hairier than a Pomeranian after a pint of Pirelli’s Miracle Elixir. Still, beggars can’t be choosers so, with clothespegs firmly planted on my nose, I continued my work. I had a meeting with a leading high street store in the morning, and I needed my models to look super fabulous for it.
Thursday: The big day arrived. I walked into the head office of Primark with my troupe in tow. We had some minor disagreements with the door security, and several of my models tried to eat the plastic fruit in the waiting room, but in short succession, we were in the boardroom with several suited big wigs holding their noses in interest. I delivered my pitch like a man possessed, frantically flailing around with samples. Let me talk you through the pitch:
|Who wears jort jorts?|
First off, I showed off my summer range. Using the principles I’d established earlier of combining clothes together, I’d created a gorgeous range of t-shorts with hilarious slogans emblazoned on them. The hobos performed amicably, treating the boardroom table as a catwalk as they strutted their funky stuff. The executives did get an eyeball of mattered scrotum through a neck hole I’d forgotten to sew up, but I promised that would be fixed before the final product.
Next up was my amazing autumn range. I combined coats and hats to make a wonderful new line of cats. I covered the cats with fallen leaves for that authentically rustic autumnal look. Plus, many of the hobos came covered in a layer of leaves anyway, so it made sense to make use of them. The execs didn’t seem too keen when one of the models scratched a sore on his neck and small twigs and insects fell into the coffee pot. However, I still had an ace up my sleeve.
My winter collection contained a dazzling range of jeggings and jorts. This unique blend of clothing was completely impractical for the winter months, but fashion doesn’t respect the elements. I just knew that they’d be wowed by the objective beauty of these costumes and that they’d snap my hand off to buy up my label. The execs thanked me and said they’d be in touch tomorrow with a decision.
Friday: The fire service pulled the hosepipe off of my car exhaust at the last moment. The rejection letter from Primark was still clutched to my chest as I was lifted from the car and taken to hospital.
So there you have it, a cautionary tale from the world of fashion. I’m too far in to stop now, but let this be a warning to anyone who wants to set up their own fashion brand.