Invisible Birds

Going to what is arguably the most conceptual art school in the country, I find that issues of dress often come up. I feel that, while students of other disciplines may be as flamboyant or hip as they please, there is a certain style that is specific to the serious writer. As a serious writer, you should dress so as to not exist. You should be so nondescript that you dissolve before the eyes, an apparition. The sad fact of writing is that you are always observing, never participating. It’s impossible to actually take action, at least in any way that is seperate and other from the act of observing. Since this is the way it is, you may as well accept it and adopt that philosophy as an element of personal style. You should be the most anonymous person you’ve ever seen. Not merely anonymous, not merely bland, but literally invisible. This is also important because, if you are me, there is nothing more problematic than the fact that you exist and nothing more desirable than the idea of appearing not to.
I don’t think that dressing this way requires buying “mall clothes” or going “mainstream”. That would be helpful to no one. But I do find that it often involves grey wool.