Until a moment ago, it didn’t even occur to me that I can’t remember having a “fashion” moment in Las Vegas. Thinking back about my trip, though, I wasn’t inspired by anyone or anything — and that was after being stuck inside my house for the past eighteen months.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t give myself opportunities to see fashionable people. I visited a couple of the malls where fabulous, rich people shop. I spent plenty of time in the casinos watching everyone go by. I saw “RuPaul’s Drag Race Live” at the Flamingo. I even stayed in a hotel where there was a big pool party attended by many of the kids who were in town for the Electric Daisy Carnival: a huge EDM festival.
Unfortunately, the festival attendees dressed like little kids. You need to be twenty-one to get into licensed venues in Vegas, so it was even stranger than it sounds. I don’t understand why an entire “subculture” would choose to infantilize themselves, but they do. It’s weird.
The rich people weren’t dressed much better. I saw two girls in the Fendi store that were “put together” in the best sense of the words, but they were wearing identical Fendi ponchos and Fendi boots. Who goes shopping with their friends in matching outfits? Oh well! At least they tried. Otherwise, it was the lack of trying that I noticed everywhere I went.
The most memorable “fashion” moment of my entire trip actually happened when I told my friend that I had to confess a “lifestyle choice” to her. We were sitting down for breakfast when I let her know that I decided to wear sweatpants home on the airplane because my flight was so early in the morning. The funny thing about that was when she visited my room the morning of my departure and actually commented on my outfit. I guess I looked great in my Todd Snyder for Champion sweatpants, my John Varvatos shirt and my Bally trainers, especially when compared to the rest of the schleps on the Las Vegas strip.
Don’t get me wrong — I don’t really give a shit about what anyone else wears. If you want to wear sweatpants on the airplane, good for you. But I do feel alarmed that absolutely nothing inspired me on this entire trip. I didn’t see a haircut that made me believe that fashion is moving into new places. I didn’t see an outfit that challenged my perception of where style is headed in this new decade. I didn’t even see a zillionaire who made me jealous of what I couldn’t afford. I was literally the best-dressed person I encountered every time I checked myself out in the mirror before I left my hotel room.
I guess that’s what happens when you put in the effort, right?