Oxygenated Blood, Redux

I am weak. After months of mocking monotonous and mechanical marketing messaging, promoting not a single brand, or specific item, but a particular breed of color, jocularly jeering at the contrived content of online fashion media, I relent. The blogger behemoth, which, so transiently, zeroes in on a target, pummels, then dissipates with an equally impressive force, is a mostly idle indulgence, in which I partake. Lately, with the inundation of repeated imagery, lack of spark, rather than a source of visual ignition, it is a more a source of assured cathartic numbing. Naturally, from here, the confines of safe and wise hindsight, I can assert that my mental promise to not succumb to the oxblood phenomenon is like my resolutions to never shop at Zara, or to start actually planning all my meals for the entire week on Sunday morning: theoretically sound concepts, which embed themselves in my semi-conscious thinking, constantly appealing, but ultimately a lie.

So, my lame solution to appear not a complete hypocrite: dabble. With tights. Once the initial pangs of guilty consumer concession weaned, bringing the tightly wrapped tights sheepishly and furtively to the cash register, I had to admit that owning a beautiful, nearly red wine tinted pair of hosiery far surpassed my predominantly undeserved condescension towards commercial fashion trends, social media marketing schemes, and actually sheep-like behavior of so many bloggers. Oxblood consummates so elegantly with gray, with browns, with camels, with navy and black and cream; resistance was futile. So, completing the cycle, in some type of supremely superficial and loosely accurate interpretation of the ancient philosophic and religious notion out of destruction, creation is born, or something else equally irrelevant and poorly metaphorized, I had to share my nonsense two cents. While the rest of the digital world has moved forward, with the seasons, to carefully constructed and exorbitant gift guides, I proclaim, without endorsement or sponsor, I adore the color of blood, replete and rich with oxygen molecules.


Post-champagne, ridiculous rambling soundtrack: Music for TV Dinners: the '60s (compilation)