THE GREAT DEBATE: Is Fashion Art?

Each morning, in preparation for daily life, we get dressed. Well, hopefully, anyway. For some, there is no philosophy behind the day-to-day ensemble; it is merely a reflection of practicality, affordability and climate. For others, however, dressing is an expression of their inner self. Clothing can be used to evoke feelings, inspire sensations and garner reactions.

In considering the possibility that there is a large population identifiable with the former (and surely not reading this blog post), questions abound: What is fashion, and what should it be? A practical warping of fabric for function? A pretentious, self-indulgent industry swimming in false importance? Or, as I prefer to think, is it merely an aesthetic representation of the time in which we live? And, for that matter, can fashion be all of these things at once?

Whether you’re of the mind that Rei Kawakubo is a genius or a quack – or you think that’s some sort of Japanese noodle dish – there is one element that can surely bridge this distinct divide. That is, the element of history. Fashion, like art, can often form a basis for historical reference. The clothing of a given era reveals many things about its wearers. Who wore what where? How much money did they have? What do they do for a living? What did they do for fun? What were their political leanings? What music did they listen to? The list goes on.

One of the most validating trips I’ve taken of late was to the Fashion & Politics exhibit at the FIT Museum, which completely justified my regular psychoanalytical fashion babble. The showcase, “a chronological exploration of over 200 years of politics as expressed through fashion…not only refers to the maneuverings of government, but also encompasses cultural change, sexual codes, and social progress.”

Despite the museum’s no-photo policy, my gorgeous friend Tom brought a bit of the exhibit back for you, via his stunning fashion illustration skills. Check-out his handiwork above – proof at the very least that to create fashion, one must appreciate art.

TALK IS CHEAP: Designer Diffusion, Part I

Following the much-hyped (and in my opinion overblown) line launched this March by Alexander McQueen, it looks like Anna Sui will become the second in Target’s “Designer Collaboration” series. As we all know and love, Target is no stranger to high design. Having premiered Isaac Mizrahi’s (recently ended) initiative in 2003, the retailer also pioneered Go International, successfully showcasing young designers like Luella Bartley, Proenza Schouler and Erin Fetherston, now for more than three years – and still going strong, with Tracy Feith’s line in stores now.

It was Isaac, along with Target, who paved the way for a “cheap ‘n chic” mentality, and inevitably, the growing excess of diffusion or “capsule” collections under the umbrella of big-box retailers including H&M, Kohl’s, K-Mart, JCPenney and others.

In September 2007, Michael Stone, CEO of The Beanstalk Group, a New York-based licensing consulting firm, told Brandweek reporter Eric Newman: "It has become apparent that a designer can bring [his or her] line downstairs without negatively impacting the integrity, authenticity and credibility of the upstairs brand."

Does that still hold true? Ms. Sui’s line (which I’m excited to note pays homage to the ladies of “Gossip Girl”) will debut September 13, 2009, two very tumultuous years after Mr. Stone wagered that statement. The economy has taken a serious nosedive since, luring more designers into the realm of diffusion, which provides ample brand exposure and accessibility, not to mention the added revenue stream.

But now, five years after Karl Lagerfeld launched one of the first capsule collections for H&M, the market for secondary lines has surmounted to a point of over-saturation. (Important note here: after Lagerfeld’s collection sold out faster than you could say “old man with a pony tail,” ol’ Karl was famously PO-ed at the Swedish company, who refused to produce more of his line, choosing instead to rarify the pieces that were sold in stores and had quickly escalated to eBay; what the Chanel designer said amounted to “snobbery created by anti-snobbery.”)

My question in all of this: Do designers just now entering the game risk losing their previously established cache – both in quality and luxury? I think so.

Customers may have beat down doors for COMME des GARCONS last year, and even slept on Fifth Avenue for a shot at that glorious Matthew Williamson belt this spring, but designers perpetually run the risk of an instant brand downgrade when they work with lower quality fabrics and construction. I’m not exactly used to haute couture myself, but when my pearl-embellished Simply Vera grey cardigan started shedding like crazy, the $30 I spent suddenly seemed a bit steep. Is it fair that I ask for Kohl’s clothing to last through the season, or longer, or am I holding this item to a higher standard just because Ms. Wang’s name is on the label? And, if I am, what is so very wrong with that? Isn’t that why these designers joined major market retailing in the first place; to bring their eponymous brands – and all that is implied in that name – to the masses?

If it’s just about their annual bottom line, maybe Christian Lacroix should give H&M a call.

*I’m keeping this short and sweet because:
a) I am short and sweet, so it’s kind of a branding thing.
b) I want to know what you think.
-Do diffusion lines help or hurt luxury labels?
-What expectations do you have of these secondary lines in terms of quality and affordability?

Tell me what you think, and I’ll press on.

Photo credit: Commes des Garcons for H&M advertisement, November 2008.

JELLY UP: Vivienne Westwood

I wore a pair of hot pink lattice-weave jelly sandals through the entire summer of 1990. I wore them to camp; to tennis lessons, to the soccer field (where I typically did not play), to the pool, in the pool, and beyond. Suffice to say, I rather liked those jelly sandals. C’mon, it was 1990; who didn’t worship jellies?

Why would I be reminiscing about such an uncomfortable – not to mention fairly unstylish – pair of shoes, you ask?

For one, jellies have a special place in my heart. They mark a brief but distinct period in my generation’s style evolution. A memory that falls somewhere in between The Heathers and Clueless; a time before Winona went klepto* and definitely before we could’ve dreamed up Alicia Silverstone’s yellow plaid three-piece ensemble or her character’s virtual closet. I had long ago filed jellies away as a brief interlude in reality; a subversive place and time in which plastic shoes were trendy and thought to be especially so if a Disney princess was prominently featured upon the toe. (I was four years old, okay?)

But that doesn’t answer the question. Why jellies? Truth is, I got to thinking back nearly 20 years as the result of a pretty random conversation.

Follow my train of thought here:
(e.g. Facebook chat)

ME: I’m brainstorming on quintessential summer wear. That’s what I’d like to explore next. You know, what clothes, shoes, accessories get you amped for warm weather. What makes you think back to the excitement of summer break? The countdown through the final days of school?

STRAIGHT MALE FRIEND: I dunno. My brain is totally focused on jelly fish right now. My friend is producing this documentary on jelly fish and I’m heading to this lecture later and…blah, blah, blah.

ME: OMG! Jellies! That is GENIUS! Vivienne Westwood’s Anglomania is such an amazing throwback!

STRAIGHT MALE FRIEND: Huh? Wait, what? Oh yeah, your blog. Yeah, cool idea.

Ugh, boys. I digress. A stroke of brilliance none-the-less.

The beauty of Viv’s Anglomania is multi-faceted.

1) She’s bringing back jellies! Heck yeah! Don’t tell me you weren’t getting all teary eyed and sentimental thinking back to your own adolescent summer spent in the darn things.

2) Um, I can actually buy them? In partnership with Melissa, the line is definitely affordable, with pairs hovering in the $100 range, depending on style.

- These tri-ankle-strap gladiators are only $88.

3) A far cry from the original jellies of 1979 (created by Melissa), the Westwood-Melissa line is made of MEFLEX, a non-toxic plastic made from 100% recycled plastic – supposedly both breathable and eco-friendly.

Of course, the famously flame-haired Brit isn’t the first to dive into Melissa’s diffusion designer zone. Way before Target had Go International or H&M was shooing away hoards of COMME des GARCONS & Matthew Williamson fans, Melissa partnered with some of the biggest names in fashion. In 1983, the Brazilian shoemaker was already collaborating with Jean-Paul Gaultier and Thierry Mugler in São Paulo.

A few more recent Melissa guest designers include: Zaha Hadid, Judy Blame (Part of Louis Vuitton Design Team), Alexandre Herchcovitch, Cavalera and Isabela Capeto.

Speaking to the brand’s growing popularity, Melissa's creative director Edson Matsuo asked the New York Times back in April: “Why should modern design and taste only be characterized by expensive products for the wealthy classes?”

Good question, Matsuo, good question. The jelly sandal movement doesn’t exactly inspire socialism, but it’s a bubblegum colored start if I ever saw one.

*In a twist of fate, yesterday was the anniversary of Ryder’s trial for the theft of almost $4,000 worth of designer clothing from Saks Fifth Avenue in New York.

Photo credit: Vivienne Westwood Anglomania + Melissa advertisement, Summer 2009.