I first truly realised that I was an oddball when we did a
book report task in grade 10. We could pick any book – any at all in the entire
library – as long as it was non-fiction. It was a wimpy, non-graded task simply
to fill in some time between assessments, but nothing was more exciting for a
bunch of fifteen-year-old girls. My classmates all scurried to the fashion and
women and Barbie section and had a few tiffs over who got to do a Powerpoint on
Chanel, before they found out there were several copies and my teacher couldn’t
give a rat’s arse if they did the same book. Meanwhile, four isles down, I had
found my treasure trove. I grabbed the book, ran to my teacher and got the
okay, and it was settled. I was doing a presentation on chairs.
But these weren’t your average chairs. I forget the book
exactly, but it was hypermodern collection of designer chairs, from plastic
neon green blobs to Perspex boxes you sat on. And while people slowly backed
away from me when I told them the book I’d chosen, I had the last laugh – I was
the only student in the whole grade to get a standing ovation for my
Powerpoint. What can I say, kids get bored of speech after speech after speech
on Chanel.
I liked that people couldn’t judge me on the chairs. If I’d
picked a fashion book, people would critique the designer I’d chosen and, being
pubescent girls, translated this directly to how cool I was and whether to
gossip about me at lunch or not. But no one from any clique, be it the trolls, the
offspring of Ascot mums, or the not-quite-a-full-cookie-jar
crew, could judge me on my choice of chairs. Because none of them had a clue on
what was hip in the chair world.
Despite this I knew I was chair savvy – my auntie had given
me a giant Swedish furniture catalogue from some big shot home living designer,
so I knew what was in and what was so
last season in sitwear.
My basic message is this: that to be knowledgeable and
trendy in a subject that no one really knows about, and to never use the word
trendy, is a lot easier and fulfilling than busting your gut just to wear some
Marc Jacobs. Intimidate your peers by telling them the latest trends in sofas, and
ace that hollow assignment.