If You Want Taste, You're Gonna Have to Eat
There are songs that make me cry that you'll never hear about. There are poems I read while my mother lay dying in front of me, and unless I tell you, you'll never know which ones. My taste in music, in food, in art, all of it is private by default. You'd have to eat with me to know I'd happily live on fried chicken. Nobody reads my diary unless I show them. Nobody comes into my home unless I invite them in.
But the moment I step outside, they're looking at you. Before I speak, before you know what I do, before you know anything about how I think, you've already seen my taste. Personal style is the most front-loaded expression of taste there is. Every other form you get to keep to yourself. This one you have to subject everyone to. Some days I feel terrible and I put on a fucking blazer. Some days I want to wrap myself up and hide in the shadows, and some days I want to command the room. The clothes go out ahead of me.
So style is where I want to start, because it's the honest lab. But this essay is really about taste, and why I think it's become the thing most people are missing.