It happened the way most of these things do: slowly at first, and then in a deluge that could not be ignored. Of course, it helped that at the time of the deluge, there wasn’t much else to do but sit there and embrace the swamping.

It’s August, the silly season, the time everyone, especially fashion everyones (especially fashion everyones in Italy), goes on vacation. No one wants to think about clothes – people barely want to get dressed in the morning. They don’t really want to hear anyone opine on the subject. They want to go swimming.

Or, they want to tweet. The other day I got my 30th follower, which I know is pathetically lame when compared to actor Ashton Kutcher’s 2,961,879 (according to twitterholic.com), or even the 457,408 Sarah Brown, the prime minister’s wife, has chalked up. But here’s the thing: when I reached 30, I had never actually tweeted a word. Not once.

A few months ago, a friend and I got into a heated discussion of Twitter, the usual is-it-good-or-is-it-pointless kind. Ever since last season’s ready-to-wear shows, when I was waiting for Prada to begin and two fellow journalists twittered to each other from two rows away about the thrilling business of waiting, I have been a Twitter trouncer. But aware that one should not condemn until one has experienced, after the discussion with my pro-Twitter friend, I opened an account, the idea being to read her tweets and thus understand why it was a good thing. Which led to my followers, and their following ... nothing, which led to even more perplexity on my part. The confusion was akin to what I feel when faced with yet another season of drop-crotched trousers (aka poopy pants): why? I always wonder. Can anyone just tell me why?

Still, the Twitter puzzle was way down on my “to be investigated” list, after “Are jumpsuits destined to fail because no designer has solved the toilet problem yet?” and “Do fashion brands really think 1980s redux shoulders are going to fit under normal overcoats?”. But then I received an internal e-mail complete with “Twitter guide”, clearly indicating many of my highly respected colleagues were at it. And then I found out that various MPs were tweeting too: Andrew Rosindell, a conservative from Romford who, according to tweetminister.co.uk, a site that tracks MP tweets, had fewer followers than me, and John Denham, the Labour member from Southampton, who has lots more than me. And then the folks at Yves Saint Laurent told me they were doing it. And finally, I thought, it was time to hit the keyboard and find out whether the club was worth joining.

After all, Twitter is not only trendy but minimal, and minimalism is coming back in. You could even say it’s a fashion thing.

But while I soon discovered that it is possible to twitter stylishly (a pseudo-Karl Lagerfeld writes: “The most important thing is to do things, not to have done them”), whether or not style really belongs on Twitter is a different question. As I understand it, the forum is best used for expressing: 1) information (see the Iranian elections); and 2) pithy thoughts – but in fashion terms, pithy thoughts are usually best expressed in, say, shoe form. Or shoulder.

Perhaps that’s why, when I went searching for style twitterers in the top 100 listing, then 200, and so on, on twitterholic.com, the highest ranking one I found, other than Women’s Wear Daily (which provides the information part of the equation), was the above-mentioned pseudo-Karl Lagerfeld at number 617 (also funny is fakekarl, who contributes statements like: “This Rihanna is not a fashionista, hm? She is a product, like Swiss cheese or shoehorns”). Generally, it was mostly information on product launches, sample sales and which celeb was spotted at what fashion event with whom.

I couldn’t find one tweet that made me want to start a conversation; even the good ones are bullet-points, boiled-down thoughts. And I realised, as I stared blankly at the blank box that said “What are you doing right now?”, that this probably says more about me than about the service itself. I am not a gnomic thinker. I am internally verbose. And while it might be good discipline to be forced to pare my clause-ridden sentences down to a chic 140 characters, it’s also the wrong voice, in the same way pink may be a flattering shade for many people but on some is just awkward.

Twitter, it seems to me, is an accessory for communication, and whether you choose to try on that look or not has as much to do with identity as facility. It’s the It bag of the internet: a public declaration of allegiance to a group – albeit much less expensive, of course.

vanessa.friedman@ft.com
More columns at www.ft.com/friedman