You can't kill goth. . . it's a vampire

I never really identified with the gothy kids in school. Got along with them, sure, but nothing they ever did seemed like true, or at least effective, rebellion, so I found the whole thing a little self-conscious, even embarrassing. And I certainly never coveted their clothing.

Then, two years ago, goth became chic. Rather than being self-conscious or useless, the gothy moments of high fashion had the women who were previously traisping around with IT-bags in Chanel ballet flats now pursuing ripped lace tights to wear under grungy plaid dresses. The irony was great. The message was obvious. And best of all, it was something new.

It was new enough that I was disappointed by the return to pastels and ladylike skirts in this past fall. I mean, goth had glory, so what was it so disposable? I didn't get it. And that, my friends, is why I'm so grateful to Galliano:




Enough said.