A month or so ago, my soon-to-be-published author friend Valerija recommended that I follow Francis Ford Coppola on Instagram. I’m trying to stay away from Instagram, which is challenging since I’m supposed to be on top of all fashion-related news, and they are, too often these days, posted on Instagram before any other platform. I’m still figuring out how to balance this while struggling with the pressure of maintaining a personal brand online (God, I hate that expression, but that’s a topic for a different newsletter entry), so I’m not 100% off it yet. And, well, I started following Mr. Coppola.
Among his first posts (his 12th one, to be precise) was a list of books that influenced his upcoming movie “Megalopolis” and his view of the contemporary world in general. The list included three books by David Graeber (Debt, Bullshit Jobs, and The Dawn Of Everything) and a short story by Herman Hesse, The Rainmaker, from his unfinished tetralogy The Glass Bead Game.
As I’m preparing for another visit to one of Europe’s fashion weeks, which includes (a) registering for an accreditation, (b) once and if you get it, paying 60€ for said accreditation, (c) finding and paying for accommodation in advance because you have to provide a physical address in the city you’re visiting for the accreditation registration, (d) waiting to see if you’ll be approved so you can pay your 60€, (e) waiting to see if any of the PR teams will let you on their list because an accreditation approved by the fashion council in charge doesn’t guarantee anything… I decided to pick up Bullshit Jobs.
In the book, the late anthropologist David Graeber argues that half of human jobs serve no meaningful purpose to society. He contends that there are five types of meaningless jobs, and well, of course, mine is on the list. My job could fit into two of the five categories - goons (those who, Graeber writes, act to harm or deceive others on behalf of their employer or to prevent other goons from doing so) and box tickers (those who create the appearance that something useful is being done when it is not). I already wrote about the urge to leave fashion, which emerges when I encounter bullshit like the process of getting a fashion week accreditation described above. But Graeber hammered me down.
I don’t consider myself a goon, but some of my colleagues, especially those who spend their days writing ads, clickbait headlines, or celebrity gossip, certainly are. Sanja Modrić wrote about it for Telegram to some extent this week. There’s no doubt, however, that fashion journalists are box tickers. Trends need to be written about, red carpets must be covered, and celebrity-owned luxuries must be identified and presented to audiences. Would the world be a better place if we didn’t provide material for people to hate on in the comment sections? Of course, it would. Fashion is such a beautiful art form ruined by the constant need to sell more, own more, scale, scale, scale. Journalism follows. It is, after all, financed by fashion and beauty businesses paying for ads.
Nonetheless, I’m a cheesy sucker who believes there’s a way to do things differently, to write about fashion without being a goon or a box ticker. And I think Graeber would agree. Fashion itself isn’t bullshit. You can consider it a mere result of our need to cover our intimate body parts, a trivial urge to decorate oneself, or an art form. It doesn’t matter, it isn’t bullshit either way.
I started navigating through this world back in 2014 with the publication of my inaugural article about the French chic myth. Since then, it has been nothing but emotional ups and downs. Feelings of joy because something you wrote is finally out there, available for anyone to read. Feelings of despair because not everyone will get your point, and those who don’t, in most cases, will feel the need to tell you that. Feelings of accomplishment when offered a promotion to a buzzy position or a job at a better company. Feelings of disappointment when you realize that the higher you go, the greater goon you’ll become.
I went through all the bullshit to finally realize there might be a way. Firstly, I went freelance. It’s rather hard to do, and I can’t say if I could have done it straight off college. It took me seven years to finally get the courage, and the benefits have been grand. Most of the time, I can choose what to write about myself, which I love even when I do it for mainstream media. But the best part so far has been unexpected gigs that have revealed a glimpse into a different world. At the beginning of 2023, Ivan Blagajić, an iOS developer and sustainability enthusiast keen on design and architecture, approached me and asked me to help him start a print magazine. It would be focused on storytelling, entirely free of the advertising industry, and financed exclusively by its readers. In the following months, we connected with a pleiad of outstanding writers from across the region and, with the help of our graphic designer Alen Marić, who’s been with us since day one, created a magazine that we believe will disrupt everything. You’ll be able to buy it exclusively in our online shop or designated concept stores and can sleep soundly knowing that every writer, photographer, studio, and collaborator gets fair pay. We called it Kàko.
And I couldn’t help but finish this entry with an I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d have a better fashion and media industry, a better world in general if we didn’t have to go through all the bullshit but skipped to the good part right away? What if the system completely reshuffled, and instead of being dependent on ads and clicks and shares, the media told the readers - we’re going to give you the best stories, the best writing, the best ideas we have, and in return, you’re just going to have to pay us for doing that. That’s what we’re trying to do with Kàko. We nearly wrapped up the first issue. It’s packed with stories by fantastic writers and photographers who share our vision, and I can’t wait to show it to you this fall.
In this part of the newsletter, I’ll call someone out for being the best or worst in sustainability. Also, just for fun, I’ll give you snippets of what I’m reading, wearing, watching, listening to, and so on. I retain the right to change this part of the newsletter with every new entry but feel free to write to me if you like something in particular.
Green (de)merit
This time, I’m giving a green merit to Salt, a concept store in Rovinj, Croatia. They only hold sustainable brands, and this summer, they added a Croatian brand, Staša from Pula, to their selection for the first time. Follow their work on Instagram, and visit them when in Rovinj.
What I’m reading
This has been a summer of Ali Smith. I read her Seasonal Quartet and am currently reading There But For The. I can’t describe her writing. You have to read it. I obviously also read Bullshit Jobs. And I finally read My Year of Rest and Relaxation, which was a waste of time, I’m sad to say.
What I’m writing
For the first issue of Kàko, I interviewed the Boljar brothers. They’re creators of “the most sustainable sneaker in the world.” It’s the only story from the first issue you can read for free on the magazine’s website.
What I’m wearing
Nothing. It’s too hot.
Inspiration of the week
Oppenheimer, I think. It could be Cillian Murphy or David Bowie, too.
Confession of the week
I haven’t seen Barbie.
-Will Kàko have an English version ?
-“ In defense of Instagram” : it’s just a reflection of the real world, so filled with beauty, so filled with bullshit.
- thank you for the mention, flattered!
- Designated concept stores, volunteering !
Great article, Nives!