Visual Forms of Pedestrian Poetry. For this writer, that is what the fabric you, I, me, she, he, it, they, us, we, wear and envelope ourselves in Everyday.

You are a walking form of poetry.
A free verse, a haiku, pantoum.

You are a walking form of poetry not to be over-analyzed, but to be illuminated for the sheer source of something perfectly imperfect. This blog, Pedestrianism, was intended to document San Francisco street style but my intention is slowly moving in directions I unconsciously un-inteded: to understand peoples from different backyards of social thought (and if I'm lucky, maybe even to befriend a few along the way).
Material culture is a human form of subsistence. And street fashion has leaped beyond its general denotations and has formed this wonderful kind of art realm, intertwining with Everyday wardrobe.



Through my journeys I would like to get a sense (not an answer but a sense. . . . . . .a sensitivity) of differing perspectives towards the many questions floating through my mind's eye.

I want to see how people are, how they wear theirselves, how we wear ourselves.

Where did this adornment originate? Where was its provenance?

How did our wardrobes evolve over our time. From birth? From primordial births that kept rebirthing these beautiful lineages of biodiversity?

Who are you?
Why do you wear what you wear?
Why do you even bother to answer my questions.

Does clothing, does material culture, do adornments matter?

Like a psychoanalyst I ask: How does it effect your lifestyle?

And if we aren't really affected and if there is no meaning:

Then why aren't we comfortable with our nakedness? When did nudity become taboo?

How we dress says many things. "Even when we say nothing, our clothes are talking endlessly and noisily to everyone who sees us," says writer Allison Laurie in The Language of Clothes. "Unless we are naked and bald it is impossible to be silent."