The Problem with Poseurs

What is it about poseurs that bugs us so much? Is it their inauthenticity/dishonesty? The idea that they seem to think we don't see through them, that they've put one over on us? Or, is it the fact that they do seem to fool so many people? Or, is it because they seem to travel in packs, all of them browning each other's Pinocchioesque noses? All of the above, most likely. At least, that would be my answer.

In the Land of Poseurs, citizens come in all forms, all of whom are annoying, tho' to differing degrees, to different people. In the interest of time, let us consider two examples, one that particularly irks me being the faux foodie. Said poseur is one who has come late to the gastronomical game, and without any skills, tho' professing many. This type of imposter has a tendency to follow trends, taking them up with such vigor that they appear to be deep-seated passions, both to observers and to the poseur himself. This is the part where genuine foodies get really, really irritated because they truly love food; it is both art and therapy to them, and may, in fact, be tantamount to a lifeline. They watch silently while the faux foodie dazzles people with empty shows of culinary knowledge and prowess, knowing that it's really all smoke and mirrors -- from snuffed candles and shattered looking glasses. They don't buy it, they certainly don't want to eat it, and they can't see why anyone else would. But they do. And they often gleefully follow suit... like lunkheaded lemmings. Those of us who refuse to follow anything -- be it a trend or an order -- that does not sit well with who we are and what we represent, get fighting mad over such displays because they seem to mock our vehement individualism. Where we choose to live honestly, authentically, as staunch individuals, poseurs do not; rather, they choose to live as copycats cloaked in the (knock-off) cat's pajamas. Naturally, this spuriousness is bound to, well, get our backs up.

The artificial Artiste, "with a capital 'A,'" to paraphrase Karnock in A Stolen Life, is another such thorn in the side. This type of wannabe makes it his business to display so-called artistic interests and capabilities, be they in music, painting, dance, fashion, or what have you. He is likely to be found sharing photos of his atrocious watercolors, his favorite being the one of a tumbleweed-tailed bunny in a field, nibbling -- with saber teeth -- on a carrot twice its size. The lack of talent is, however, evident only to a handful, and this, naturally enough, is irksome. Or, you might spot him showcasing his limping Latin dance skills; nobody can do the "syncopated" salsa like he! He basks in the accolades of the undiscerning while the rest of us hold our heads in our hands and pray for the ballroom butchery to end. We hope that withholding positive reinforcement might stop the horror, but it doesn't because it simply isn't needed; this type of poseur gets all the positive reinforcement he needs from his own deluded self, which is, sadly, a never-ending font of encouragement, and one of legendary proportions.

It would appear that there is, really, nothing we can do about it. Against the poseur’s ego, there is no weapon great enough. None, perhaps, except time (tho' this is not at all a certain remedy). So let the poseur paint. Let the clodhopper (lindy) hop. Let the faux foodie dabble in cookery; all it may take is time... and enough kitchen twine to "hang himself with."

- Lisette

Defining "Chic"

"I mean French is really very easy, for instance the French use the word 'sheik' for everything, while we only seem to use it for gentlemen when they seem to resemble Rudolph Valentino." - Lorelei Lee (from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos)

Aside from the misuse of the word "curvy," I resent the reckless abandon with which the word "chic" is flung about in pop culture these days. The reason for my couturial crankiness is twofold: both the wordsmith and the fashion lover in me are offended.

The perverse ease with which people use certain words (the meanings of which they often do not fully grasp) is disconcerting because it cheapens those words. Talk may be cheap, but language isn't. The word "chic" is frequently plastered, like a universal label, on anything deemed aesthetically pleasing in the fashion/design world. I would argue that just because something is pretty, or creative, or whatever, does not make it "chic," as such. We all know that the word basically refers to something that is stylish, smart, and/or sophisticated, especially in that particular, peculiar, indefinable way that puts the "je ne sais quoi" into a certain look. Similarly, many acknowledge Audrey Hepburn as one of the most famous poster girls for the word, recognizing something in her that bespeaks "chic." However, its flexibility, elusiveness, and our common understanding of the word do not warrant its abuse, nor its overuse. Elie Saab's work is chic (it is painfully beautiful, simultaneously innovative and classic, dramatic yet refined, thoughtful, well-realized, unbelievably tasteful, and "tiré à quatre épingles"), while another designer's [insert your choice here] may not be; it may be equally beautiful, but not "chic," per se. For such a small word, "chic" has such great meaning, and while it may mean different things to different people, its integrity should still be maintained, within personal parameters, if nothing else.

I believe that the key to understanding the essence of chic lies in the fundamental difference between that which is retro/vintage, and that which is dated. Or, it can also be exemplified through the difference between that which is eternally modern, and that which will easily and quickly become dated. Chicness cannot be achieved simply by acquiring a certain skill set. I suspect it is innate and, in this way, akin to talent (it's either there, or it isn't). It is, I believe, a byproduct of one's vision, or fashion philosophy, and, to a large extent, taste level. This is why one cannot don what essentially amounts to a glorified nightgown (perhaps surreptitiously -- and misguidedly -- procured from Grandma's attic o' atrocities) and expect discerning fashionistas to hail it as a masterpiece of vintage clothing craftsmanship,... because it wasn't even chic then! Ergo, it never will be.

While the word, "chic" is often associated with modishness, I think it is more elemental and timeless than that. It is the common thread, as it were, that allows us to declare a Victorian dandy chic while simultaneously praising our fashion-forward next-door neighbor for her chicness. The times and trends may change, but in my opinion, that quality which we call "chic" transcends all boundaries. Ironically, it is this very pervasiveness and omnipresence that makes it both so specific and indefinable, rendering it a very special quality and a very special word, and therefore, meriting very special care. Giving the word "chic" such care and thought in usage and application is only appropriate, really; after all, careful thoughtfulness is one of the earmarks of all that is "chic."

- Lisette Atiyeh