Park & Cube

I’ve been reading Park & Cube for the last couple of days with some interest. At first glance it seems like one of the ubiquitious fashion/streetstyle blogs dedicated entirely to clothes and/or shopping and pretty much a self-celebration of narcissistic self-indulgence — though one can hardly deny the guilty pleasure of reading them with such vicarity — but Park & Cube, with some aplomb, separates itself from the drooling hipster masses.

(I was reading JUICE magazine over the hotness’ shoulder last night and the ‘Hipster Bible’ article advocated the hipster to read Dostoevsky, Satre and Salinger. Not to be snobby, but really, now.)

It’s probably because of the very intentional choice of words and images. The photos are consistent: in the sense of layout, composition, mise en scène, focus; all of which goes to shape its own identity in our heads. Clever. Stylish. Rich. Even tasteful (which is hard to find in the content that runs the gamut on the intarwebs, so never, ever, take that for granted). Decidedly un-gimmicky. And any one who talks about ‘panoptics, global connection and disappearance of space’ is good in my book.

‘The sky is so hormonal lately I feel like throwing it a big fat painkiller so it stops being so pissy and sunny within the course of a few hours. The other day I misjudged its temper and went out wearing nothing but a blouse and that fake lamb fur thing and caught myself a tickly cough cold, the thing that only creeps out in the most inconvenient of times like in church or in a packed train. I’m sure that if it weren’t for bird flu, swine flu, caterpillar flu, refrigerator flu I would’ve received a gentle pat on the back from a middle class gentleman while being offered baby backup water from mothers.’

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