by Christine Stoddard

Created on: April 22, 2009

How to Be an Artist:No Talent Required

It's called radical chic'-being cool by being uncool. Painters and poets alike brandish their filthy fingernails, moth-eaten duds, and cigarette-clad lips the same way Paris Hilton and her Malibu cronies sport Kate Moss bags and Gucci stilettos-with that oh-so-obnoxious "you wish you could be me" attitude. Of course the difference between the two image-obsessed creatures is this: The "true" artist would never conform to Capitalism's suffocating dress codes because it would violate his sacred belief in individuality, and Paris-one of the most fashion-conscious women on the globe-would never forsake fashion for comfort or creative expression because neither one wears a $500 price tag.

But what if the poet's anti-fashion became...fashionable?

Ah, what wouldn't L.A. do to stay hip? Even Paris-the eternal plastic girly-girl-will occasionally toss her designer jeans to the back of her garage-sized closet in exchange for battered sweaters and granny dresses, striving to bring forth her more "romantic" side. They may not scream "Santa Monica in the Spring", but, from London to Milan, prairie skirts, hippie knits, and Flower Child hues overpower the runways. It's something about the freedom of wearing moccasins instead of pumps or tunics instead of starched blouses that make the Bohemian look so desirable that even Paris will make the ultimate sacrifice of not washing her hair for a day in order to achieve that laid-back, bed-head look. Now that artists' renowned thrift shore chic has become so trendy, it's suddenly cool for today's Hollywood stars to look as if they've just stepped out of the corner coffee shop-even if the truth is they're barely literate (anyone else remember Lindsay Lohan's infamous e-mail?).

So how can you, the average bourgeois sculptor wanna-be achieve this artsy look while maintaining dignity at Mom and Dad's country club? Begin by throwing all of your oldest, most hideous clothes in a pile on the floor. Stomp on the pile like it just brought you a double latte instead of a triple one with sprinkles. (Yes, THAT hard). Then grab a bottle of acrylic paint (no, nail polish doesn't count; it must be ARTIST'S paint) and dab dots of it all over the pile. Once the paint has dried, randomly tear holes into the clothes. Repeat as many times as necessary. Then add the tackiest yard sale jewelry you can find and voila!

You're an artist-no talent required.

Just don't expect to host any book signings any time soon...

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