i-D Fashion Features Editor James Anderson unveils a list of rezzies to make life more fashionably wonderful during the next twelve months. Ta-ra 2013! Hello NOW.
STOP endlessly debating that yawny old print-versus-digital theme. It is perfectly possible to extract fashion-related information from a variety of two- and three-dimensional publications.
START your own print or digital (or both) magazine, but preferably one that doesn't adhere to a now-clichéd fusion of fashion-art-music-film-and-blah-blah. Go niche. Go purist. Go singular vision. Go it-doesn't-matter-if-only-five-people-read-it-at-first-because-if-it's-good-before-too-long-many-more-people-will-read-it-and-will-love-it.
STOP banging on about airbrushing/photoshopping in fashion editorial and advertising: models generally don't look like everyday people, anyway, with or without a dash of digital enhancement.
START pondering why some huffy fashion commentators are so obsessed with reality and normality, when fashion clearly deals in fantasy and illusion and sex and desire and delightful-impracticalities.
STOP giving the oxygen of publicity to those most unfashionably gasping for it. For example, the next time Kanye West is reported to have stated his cultural significance as being on a par with Warhol, don't even bother posting it on Facebook.
START homing-in on amazingly talented and genius people who don't loudly blow their own fashion trumpets 24/7. Talking of which, Martin Margiela - where are you now? Come back! i-D misses your modesty...
STOP paying hot young designers a pittance to collaborate with your high street store, rag-trade bigwigs. You gain shitloads of publicity through your associations with them, so cough up the cash accordingly.
START buying clothes direct from young designers if you can afford to do so. Or, commission stuff to be tailor-made especially for you by fashion design students, who generally need the cash and appreciate the exposure.
STOP being a sweaty cocaine bore at fashion parties: this particular drug makes you (temporarily) love yourself far more than anyone else ever will.
START considering taking acid instead? It makes fashion parties (and indeed most situations) infinitely more giddy...
STOP photo-fishing for compliments on the 'net: selfies are okay, in moderation, but a constant supply suggests, 'Does my bum look big in this? Does it? And do you love me?' on a non-stop needy loop.
START being unSelfie-ish by mirror-fasting in earnest and focusing on taking photographs of other people, instead, you vain bugger.
STOP aspiring to own one of those fashionable 'toy' dogs that look like the type of pooch poking out of Paris Hilton's handbag.
START slagging off designers who still use real fur within their collections. Yuk.
STOP sending out press releases, PR professionals, which describe anything woollen as 'Knit Wit!'; anything print-based as 'Prints Charming!'; anything leopard or tiger-ish or zebra-striped as 'A Walk on the Wild Side!'.
START inventing and wearing style-combinations that defy easy categorisation, which is admittedly much easier said than done.
STOP inviting tenuous celebrities to men's fashion shows in London, who subsequently go on prime-time TV and mock the designers' work. Hello, dandy David Gandy!
START not giving a shit if someone high-profile publicly slags off your work, fashion designers. You can make clothes, after all, whereas they can merely make comments.
STOP wearing stuff that proclaims banality: Ugg boots, espadrilles and those sad men's trousers with elasticated ankle cuffs all look better when nestled in the bottom of a dustbin.
START to avoid anyone who announces they have a 'passion for fashion!' or, even worse, writes this particularly catchy expression on their CV (and then goes on to describe themselves as a 'brand').
STOP toiling for no money: the UK fashion industry generates £21 billion a year. The talent of young designers, stylists, photographers and writers is therefore worth forking out for, tightwad employers.
START holding tawdry fashion photographers to account for their mistreatment of young models, no matter how famous they might be.
STOP trying to make 'colour of the year' Radiant Orchid happen. A shade that resembles the Warehouse sale rail circa 1994, or an old man's scrotum, for that matter, is more chronic than ironic.
START being radiant.