I'm a bonafide WEIRDO who hangs out amidst a tribe of wonderfully colorful, fiercely fabulous, tremendously authentic, hyper-fascinating weirdos.
So what exactly is a weirdo? A weirdo is someone who doesn’t fit into the confines of a label.
He or she is not a hipster, yet not a sorority girl, yet not a pretentious sophisticate, yet not a collegiate prep, yet not a party animal, yet not a nerd, yet not a bitch (A weirdo is never a bitch.) yet not a soft-spoken damsel.
A weirdo is often a combination of all labels, picking out the traits within each subculture he or she likes and dismissing the ones that don’t suit him or her.
A weirdo is someone you can’t quite explain. Which is precisely what makes a weirdo so desirable, and attractive and interesting.
When I was a teenager, I did everything I could to repress my weird ways. I never felt as if I fit in.
I had too much self-preservation for the druggies but was too wild for the bookworms. I wasn’t reckless enough for the punks but was too outspoken for the contrived hipsters.
I was too trendy for the freaks and too, well, weird for the cheerleaders.
I was the 15-year-old girl who mixed en vogue designer dresses with spiked leather collars. I was torn between so many worlds and sifted from cafeteria table to cafeteria table.
I irritated myself: Why couldn’t I choose a distinct style that was cohesive with my personality and be done with it?
But alas, like all weirdos, I have an irrepressible inability to conform.
When I graduated high school and headed west to Los Angeles, ever so suddenly I found myself among a sea of some of the weirdest weirdos I’d ever met (they call it “Hollyweird” for a reason.).
And these weirdos were subsequently the coolest f*cking people my wide-eyed 17-year-old self had ever seen.
I was never, ever ashamed of being a weirdo again, for I had found my people. I never went back.
And my cultivated family of weirdos rules.
They are a collective of crazies that bear careers spanning across the spectrum of all industries: fashion designers, techies, makeup artists, filmmakers, photographers, chefs, investment bankers, writers, art models, lounge singers, entrepreneurs, badass bartenders and more.
Weirdos are all so very different, yet we are bound by our refusal to succumb to the shackles of societal labels. We won’t be put in a f*cking box, f*ck you very much.
So to all the ladies and germs who have not yet come into your own, if you are still finding yourself a repressed weirdo baby racked with shame because you don’t "fit in" -- now is the time to accept and embrace your weirdness.
Weirdos are the trendsetters of the world
Weirdos are undeniably the style stars of the universe, the trendsetters who were fearlessly rocking cut-out rompers and fringed boots before they ever graced the fashion magazines.
Every original fashion designer is a weirdo: Alexander McQueen, Betsey Johnson, Karl Lagerfeld, John Galliano and Vivienne Westwood, to name a few.
And that’s just scratching the surface. The super trendy Marc Jacobs wears skirts -- and looks fab doing so.
So, weirdo, listen up: If you’re currently being teased for your fearless fashion, remember that in six months, all the hateful unoriginal bitches will be copying you, sporting a mirror image of the exact outfit you’re being harassed for today.
As the great Diana Vreeland (the late longtime editor of Vogue and the queen of planet fashion) once said:
Style -- all who have it share one thing: originality.
So tell those “normsies” bullying you they can go kindly f*ck themselves because you -- you got style, you fierce weirdo you.
Weirdos are a glorious breath of fresh air
Life is so boring when it’s filled with only the unimaginative masses. Society needs weirdos, for weirdos serve as the glorious glitter in an otherwise glitter-less world.
How dismal is the world without the shimmering glint of sparkle? I don’t even want to imagine it. Can't go there.
See, when you’re a kid, you might be picked on for being weird, but when you’re a grownup, everyone wants to have you around.
We weirdos serve as the necessary entertainment at an otherwise boring party; we are the great escape, providing a temporary distraction from the banality of a normal person’s existence.
I will leave you with this pressingly TRUE Simon Doonan quote:
Why the hell wouldn’t you want to be one of the fabulous people, the life enhancers, the people who look interesting and smell luscious and who dare to be gorgeously more fascinating than their neighbors?
Weirdos have way hotter sex
Weirdos are authentic, and authenticity is synonymous with sexy. It’s impossible to be a truly sexy, seductive creature when you’re a false, self-conscious carbon copy trying too hard to be something you're not.
Weirdos ooze sensuality because they’re unafraid of their experimental side. They're unafraid to test the forbidden sexual waters and dive right in without shame or fear.
This makes sex with weirdos addictive to the normal masses; once a person experiences the passionate love-making prowess of an authentic weirdo, he or she can never go back to normal, removed SEX again.
As the wildly weird genius that is Charles Bukowski once stated:
She’s mad, but she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.
Weirdos lead an honest sexual existence, and truth is the hottest quality anyone can ever possess. It is rich with more power than cleavage alone.
Weirdos are wildly adventurous
Part of being a weirdo is being creative, and creative people constantly crave new scenery. The eyes of a weirdo must be penetrated by new images, or a piece of his or her soul simply dies.
Weirdos embark on the most awesomely creative adventures. Weirdos travel outside the norm, for they are the ones who trek in the unchartered wilderness.
Weirdos make life-long friends in countries in which they don’t speak a lick of the language.
Weirdos actually do the exciting, wonderful things most people only get to read about in books.
As the brilliant Anaïs Nin wrote in her diary:
We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.
Weirdos make the best friends
If you could choose one of the two for a best friend, whom would you choose?
A basic, boring drone who judges everything that walks and fears his or her own shadow OR a thriving non-judgmental fabulously fun individual weirdo? The latter, correct?
I will never forget the day I read Jack Kerouac’s notorious novel “On The Road.”
This particular quote was a game changer for me, and I whisper it to myself every single time I feel like I’m alienated in a pool of Barbie Dolls who don't get me:
But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars, and in the middle you see the blue centerlight and everybody goes ‘Aww!’