New European Fashion


by Constantin von Hoffmeister
New European fashion has to be strict. It has to be fashionably strict. Cut along the lines of imperial traditions (dating back to Ancient Rome), it has to exemplify the uniformity of the nation’s iron will. Cut along the lines of individualist traditions (dating back to Thomas Jefferson and the Great White American Republic), it has to exemplify the will of the wearer that serves the nation with pride and individual distinction. The wearer and the uniform – one for all and a symbol for the New Glory. The young people of the Empire disregard the bourgeois fashion mentality of the old people of the corrupt republic. The young people of the Empire look to the stars for inspiration, they look to the men who conquer planets for the glory of the Empire for inspiration.

New European fashion has to be instantly recognizable as something new. Transcending the past and bridging the present with the future, it nevertheless must firmly anchor itself in the long line of European fashion traditions that preceded it, all the way down to the punk and androgynous beatnik look and the hip (but strict) armies of Queen Victoria. Archeo-futurist, retro-modern

and fashion for war
war in peace
style in war
style in peace
ready for war

battalions buttoned up
lines leading straight
(loose for losers)
finalizes freedom

Johnny Rotten marries Gabriele d’Annunzio: the complete synthesis of complete freedom and utter disregard for the values of the herd and the morality of the masticating masses is blended with the acceptance of lust and power as the twin principles of the New Dawn. The road to the New European Renaissance leads across the shattered bones and discarded corpses of fashion victims of yore (when the lands yielded nothing but media death and despair in blue jeans). The slogan “Black is beautiful” is reclaiming its rightful place as a slogan that applies to Occidental fashion – no more negroid servitude, but with heads held high the new young Europeans will march down the roads of reclaimed cities and landscapes clad in the color that defies all colors, brandishing the black flag that will supplant the rainbow flags that have poisoned us all.

Marching across fields and across rivers and across the dead armies of the enemy, the new young Europeans in their boots and black uniforms and bright outlook see ahead the road that will lead them to freedom filled with lust and romance and danger (three key ingredients in the young men’s and women’s cocktail – served in the bars of life). Across the Empire on avenues newly lined with freshly planted oak trees, the new young European men walk hand in hand with the new young European women, the men’s uniforms sleek and form-fitting and the women’s black leather knee boots dominating the asphalt, quivering under the might of the new model army. And across the faces of the happy couples smiles of joy and victory, above their heads not a single cloud and the birds of steel whirring overhead, leaving smoke trails and sounds of thunder – the might and fury of Wotan has returned, in his eye reflected the anger and passion of his new young disciples, ready to love and die and love some more the day that has dawned and die again the only death worth dying: the death that promises life. Love and passion and the fruit of their loins ensure victory over death – the mighty Race lives on through countless future aeons when young couples see the endless vistas of space in the eyes of their lovers and know that procreative sex killed death! One are the many because the Race is one!

When the Race goes shopping, it goes shopping for war, conquest, love and passion! The bearers of the Race’s pride, the Race’s honor, the Race’s ensured existence for millennia, eternity and always – these bearers wear what the fashion of life and death dictates they must wear: The black badge and the black collar and the silver emblem proclaiming their value as the eternally young warriors for freedom and joy, for liberation and destruction, the old for the new, the canvas for the slacks – streamlined and woven into perfection, the young warriors chewing the joy of having vanquished the enemy easily stride side by side along the wide boulevards: a victory parade in blue, black and purple! The colors of European joy, nobility and fraternity, arm in arm, locked in step, marching, dancing, the streets vibrating with the joy of blood spilled for THE BLOOD! and endless columns of spectators showering this young army of new model men with flowers, ribbons and music that will reverberate through the ages the eternal song of an eternal continent, an eternal planet, an eternal galaxy: WE SEE! WE WILL! WE TAKE!

And we have seen the pain of men without women, we have seen the pain of women without guidance, we have seen the pain of couples not coupled but lost in an atomized multitude of their own people, their own race. The future holds what is dear to all, the future promises what all young desire, what all young need, what all young deserve! The truth in copulation with your own spells the only truth of procreation: the eternal joy of the eternal chain, linking forever the old with the new, the ancient with the modern, the archaic with the futuristic – the line that binds is the line that holds, unbroken from solar system to solar system, from planet to planet, one end holding the other end, arms outstretched, light years and aeons apart, but always knowing the true source of bliss and power and ultimate desire: unity within and unity without, the Race one like the naked Greeks wrestling amongst themselves. The Greeks were naked, so we shall be naked! We shall be naked with pride and we shall be naked with the pride of men and women who willingly enter each other to produce and perfect the offspring that will in turn give joy to each other and thus perfect and hone and tune values inherent in both body and spirit.

The period is the belt buckle and the exclamation marks are the suspenders. Where is the working class? Where is the goal that promiseth everlasting glory? Rimbaud the Frenchman has seen, Hitler the German has seen and Churchill the Englishman has also seen. What do we see? What do WE YOUNG PEOPLE see? We see what is OURS and we see what is NOT THEIRS. THEY MUST GO SO WE CAN LIVE! Their rags against our suits, their Haj caps against our proud hats, their pride in a lie against our pride in the real. The equation is nil. The question is answered. The answers are open. Our suits can be soiled but THEIR HEADS shall roll!