Words
A glance to the right and the avalanche lets go. A mountainside of Tommy coming down in her head. My god, don’t they know? This stuff is simulacra of simulacra of simulacra. A diluted tincture of Ralph Lauren, who had himself diluted the glory days of Brooks Brothers, who themselves had stepped on the product of Jermyn Street and Savile Row, flavoring their ready-to-wear with liberal lashings of polo-kit and regimental stripes.
But Tommy surely is the null point, the black hole. There must be some Tommy Hilfiger event-horizon, beyond which it is impossible to be more derivative, more removed from the source, more devoid of soul. Or so she hopes, and doesn’t know, but suspects in her heart that this in fact is what accounts for his long ubiquity.
William Gibson_Pattern Recognition_p.18_l.6
Tags: Brooks Brothers, Cayce Pollard, event-horizon, fashion, Jermyn Street, mode, Mustererkennung, Pattern Recognition, Ralph Lauren, Savile Row, Tommy Hilfiger, william gibson