i used to have this friend who knew what was "in" and what was "out", at any give time. he knew what magazines to read, what music to listen to, what clothes to wear, which colors to use and the right kind of lamps to buy for his livingroom. he always had the right shoos, the coolest suit, the sharpest, japanese knives, ate the most exotic food and drank the best wines. he played golf, drove an audi and used a mac.
in the beginning i was fascinated by his was knowledge on things and i took his words and opinions as guidence and inspiration. over a number of years i was submitted to his daily, random acts of hints and tips on how to visualize yourself.
one day, at lunch, i remember it vividly, he was sitting in front of me, talking about design and interior decoration or something. i was not paying much attention. suddenly it hit me – he was a copy. a copy of everything. a bleak transcript of all the things he had read, heard and seen about art, fashion, food, design, advertising and furniture. there was not one original thought or reflection that came out of his mouth. not a single groundbreaking or enlightened word passed his lips. just copies.
there are a lot of people like him, and i have to say that i often make copies myself, just to make it easier in everyday life. but deep down, i have not figured out exactly where, i have this little organ of sorts, that constantly strive to think of something new. something original. because i do not want to be a copy.
this man is no longer my friend, but he still drinks "bussola amarone della valpolicella classico vigneto alto 1999/2000" and wears a pair of "onitsuka tiger" sneakers.
footnote: this was written on a "macbook pro".