TED Talk: "Style Ain't Something You Can Unbox"

Good afternoon. But before we start—no, I don't have a discount code. And no, you can't shop this look via link in bio. So let’s reset our expectations.

I came up in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Back when you had to actually go outside to find inspiration. Before hashtags told you what to wear. Back when style had stakes, and your kicks got scuffed from skating, not staged photoshoots.

Today, I look around and it feels like we’re living inside a sponsored moodboard. TikTok turned self-expression into social currency. It didn’t free up fashion—it flattened it. Stylists used to curate. Now algorithms auto-generate.

What used to be instinct is now an index. The youth ain’t developing taste—they’re downloading it.

And let’s not even get started on Hypebeasts. Remember when Supreme was for the kids getting chased outta the Banks by NYPD? Now it’s on toddlers and tech bros. Somehow, buying a logo became a rite of passage.

I’m not mad at the clothes. I’m mad at the copy-paste styling. Everybody looks like they lost their luggage and had to borrow a drip kit from Instagram.

Let’s talk about this addiction to collecting. It’s not about heritage or history—it’s about hoarding. Gotta catch ‘em all, right? Sneakers, tees, toys, vintage games, LV x Nike collabs. They’re not buying things—they’re buying validation.

But here’s the kicker: most of these folks can’t even tell you why they like what they like. They’re not curating—they’re consuming.

And I see it all the time. The guy with 300 pairs of Jordans who doesn’t even hoop. Who never knew about Mars Blackmon. Who couldn’t name five colorways without Google. That’s not passion. That’s packaging.

We used to call it a collection when it told a story. Now it’s just inventory.

Meanwhile, influencers are cosplaying as tastemakers. But all they’re doing is emptying shopping carts. Half of 'em don’t dress—they just model. They don’t love fashion—they love attention.

Everything’s about the flex now. Who got it first. Who got the rarest. Who got the invite. But no one’s asking: who actually knows what the hell they’re doing?

The algorithm has no style. Just trends. And trends? They age like unrefrigerated milk.

A kid will go viral for wearing a Chrome Hearts hoodie and five minutes later, it’s on SHEIN. Welcome to the fashion ouroboros.

Real ones know: style comes from scarcity—not of product, but of influence. Too many voices, and you forget your own.

We need to bring back gatekeeping—not of the product, but of the principle. Taste ain’t a trend. It’s a skill. A practice. A lifelong conversation between you and the culture.

See, I came up in the era of Stüssy, Union NYC, and Supreme when it was an actual skate shop with a bunch of downtown weirdos. We didn’t have e-comm. We had community.

Back then, you learned from who was wearing it, not from who was posting it. And you definitely didn’t buy five of the same hoodie just to resell four.

We wore things into the ground. Patina was proof. Of life. Of hustle. Of time. Now, people panic if their Air Forces get creased.

And don’t get me started on the "everything limited" syndrome. If everything’s exclusive, then nothing is.

The problem with fashion today? It’s not about taste. It’s about timing. Can you get it before it sells out? Can you style it before it becomes cringe?

But let me tell you something TikTok won’t: the realest outfits come from constraint. From improvisation. From figuring it out with what you got.

If you always dress for the likes, you’ll forget how to dress for your life.

I’m not here to shame the kids. I’m just here to remind them: taste takes time. There’s no shortcut. No plug. No promo code.

So stop chasing the next thing. Sit with what you already got. Remix it. Rewear it. Reshape it.

Because in the end, the only drip that matters is the one that comes from knowing yourself.

Thank you.

Still selective. Still stubborn. Still dressing for the long game.