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I decide I’m going to Shanghai Fashion Week to try to get them to photograph me for my rad street style.

From what I observed yesterday after I stumbled into the heart of Shanghai Fashion Week totally by accident, people like to take photos of you if you’re dressed in something crazy. Like a mink coat with Tibetan shell decoration and a Peter Pan hat with insane feathers. Or a tulle skirt and baseball cap. Or shorts with really tall red socks. Normally this is a game I could play with serious creativity, but since all of my choices are conference garb — the most sedate clothing I own — I settle for wearing pulling my turquoise scarf up over my head and asking someone to take a photo of me. The thing is, once one person takes a photo of you, two or three other people swarm over and start clicking away because clearly you’re important. So here I am, striking a pose in front of the VIP fashion show entrance, a scarf my Dad bought me in Bonners Ferry, Idaho, flipped over myself at a weird angle. And this guy is saying “so cool, so cool,” turning his camera sideways like I’m some kind of trendsetter, when clearly what I look like is idiotic.

I walk away thinking my niece Chloe would be really good at Fashion Week due to her natural four-year-old street wear choices. And basically that’s fashion: playing dress-up and acting like a grownup because now you can color your makeup in the lines. IMG_1957 IMG_1945 IMG_1988 IMG_1993 IMG_1991 Shanghai Fashion Week

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