The thing is, I do feel like K-pop has stepped a tiny bit away from its avante-garde nature because of all these high-profile branding tie-ins. So what’s my point here, aside from oversharing and writing about K-pop stars getting recognition as fashion trendsetters? Just look at Paris Fashion Week, where it’s almost impossible not to find a K-pop star or three sitting front row at the most elite shows. Why am I talking about my truly terrible relationship with fashion in a K-pop newsletter instead of to my therapist, you might be wondering? It’s because K-pop is now one of the biggest buzzwords in luxury fashion, with South Korean singers and actors some of the most in-demand brand ambassadors in the world. While this love-oriented pressuring doesn’t bother me that much nowadays, when I was a teenager and in my early twenties, I’d often over-internalize her lovingly suggested advice and end up in depressive states about what to wear, either crying or not leaving my house for days, because I didn’t feel up to Fashion. As a teenager I used to go along with her ideas, and I ended up with a closet full of items I didn’t feel great wearing. To this day, my mother, bless her soul, regularly sends me links to clothing items she thinks I should invest in, and when I don’t she’ll often find an excuse to buy them for me, even if I wasn’t buying them because they’re not something I remotely like. In adulthood, this has obviously led to some clashes because as much as I love her she and I have very different taste. My mother, a particularly artistic soul, has always been eager, overzealous even, to ensure that I always look well-dressed by her definitions ever since my childhood. I have a terrible relationship with fashion.
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