This year my thoughts on fashion are less about “what’s in” and more about what appeals to personal style, which is never to be confused with trends. As my favorite fashion writer and style icon, the late Anna Piaggi (1931-2012) famously said (and to whom this post is dedicated): “I am a synthesizer.”

Mind you, I wouldn’t dream of putting myself in such chic and vanguard company, but she is, and always will be, my kind of woman. Shrewd and adventurous, and adamantly uninterested in the vain, banal sorts of femininity most fashionistas traffic in. I could go on, but the press has already done that, the obits andtributes still pouring in (as they should). I will say she changed the face of fashion with her guts and personality, and her doppie pagines — double-page spreads — in Vogue Italia remain the benchmark for all fashion editorials.

Someone will no doubt create a whole collection inspired by her, or claim to, and I hope she gets the MET retrospective she so richly deserves!

Thinking about Piaggi’s famous mix of high and low — ie. couture meets Canal Street in a penchant for vibrant colors and clashing patterns — I am reminded of my favorite Jean Genet quote from The Thief’s Journal (1949): “To achieve harmony in bad taste is the height of elegance.” Of course, Piaggi may not have shared Genet’s predilection for the abject as much as she did his rebellion against the dictates of “good taste” – that aesthetic language, which if learned early enough and by those with enough aptitude will eventually breed variation and contradiction, I’m convinced. As Piaggi put it, “It’s like algebra. It goes really by reduction and deduction. It’s a little bit mathematical and scientific.” Fashion Algebra.

One could also imagine Rei Kawakubo of Comme Des Garçons, who deservingly won this year’s CFDA award, saying the same thing. Indeed, Piaggi once said of the latter’s trademark deconstruction, albeit in a somewhat equivocal tone: “Rei Kawakubo’s always right in a way because she has been turning dresses inside-out and front-to-back so much that it has become incredibly professional and convincing.”  Visually their aesthetics bear little in common outside a mutual defiance of (western) classical notions of beauty, but if one considers the quotes made by fans of Kawakubo, one could just as easily imagine devotees of Piaggi, should she have been a designer selling her look/style, to be cut from the same courageous cloth.

Regardless, both make the idea of age-appropriate clothing, something I explored in an earlier post seem so inconsequential as to be from another planet.

With all that said, my fantasy couture wish list for Fall 2012 (a girl can dream, can’t she?) is all about Valentino. I love the necklines, the regal colors and fabrics, the Renaissance lines and shapes, and of course, the exquisite construction.

Nearly every garment is given its own raison d’etre rather than merely extending another look.  And by the way, I inferred the Renaissance influence just from looking, and after checking — to my happy surprise! — I found out I was right. Being an art history professor does have its perks.

Of course this is all fantasy shopping here, but lest anyone think I’m not a practical girl, here are my picks for RTW (ready-to-wear). Choices I couldn’t limit to one collection, now could I?

NYC-based designer, Chris Benz gets top billing. The yellow-black-white-silver palette, and alternately red-black-white-gold, is fresh and appealing.

The wigs and transgender-ish vibe of runway models reveals an edgy tension, an oscillation between frumpy-vintage and urbane mash-up that is   palpable throughout the collection. Sort of like John Waters meets 1960s Barbie-housewife (if there’d been such an edition). And I also love the vertical stripes after seeing so many horizontals these last two seasons!

There’s so much going on here that as with Valentino, I am in awe of how many pieces stand on their own, even if some are a bit busy or unresolved for my taste. But Benz is young, and I see him working for Almodovar soon.

My other choices include examples from A Détacher by Mona Kowalska (love the sleeves and the hot red!). Kowalska’s foray here is a slightly toned down version of previous work and sometimes suffers from the same confusion Benz’s collection does, but I’d rather see ambition and experimentation take center stage then get tucked in the closet out of fear. How else does anyone grow and learn?

My last fancy comes from Bellstaff by Martin Cooper. This collection has a fabulous 1920s British roadster vibe with great masculine attitude, and the impeccable details to be expected from this Burberry ex-pat. Belstaff could take a primer from Stella McCartney, however, on the merits of going vegan — all that animal skin is NOT appealing (I choose to imagine it all as faux).

Speaking of which, another sartorial-related “event” that caught my attention this week, in addition to Piaggi’s death, was the plight of female garment workers. One in particular who’d been recently “disappeared” by her Bangladeshi bosses, known for routinely raping and robing their female-only sweatshop staff. Its a disturbing and increasingly common situation as sex-traffickers become the new drug-lords of the 21st century. Thinking about who makes our clothes and under what conditions is paramount to anyone with a ethical bone in their fashion-conscious body.

On a lighter note, how amusing was it to see Michael Phelps in that Annie Liebowitz shot for Louis Vuitton? The latter not being an official Olympics sponsor leading to all the hoopla about Phelps violating his pr clause, and potentially losing all those Olympic medals.

All I can say is Annie does it again: John and Yoko, Demi Moore, Myley Sirus…whose next? Funniest of all though was the attention given to the fart bubble the photograph allegedly captures. Will the tyranny of fashion never end? I hope not!

Tweet

Of course, as soon as I was making my own money at age 15, I ran right out to the cheapest, tackiest store there was (the equivalent, I guess, of a Rainbows), and started shopping for “more”. Ruffled blouses, high heels, tube tops, costume jewelry ( a taste she would never forgive me for since her mother and grandmother had cultivated a penchant for expensive – “platinum only” – jewelry that she’d hoped to pass on to me), etc.  When I entered my thrift store phase in my later teens, the very idea of which still today sends shivers down my mother’s back as she imagines me elbow to elbow with riff-raff too poor to buy their clothes anywhere else, catching all manner of second-hand germs – from the clothes and the shoppers, no doubt.

I became addicted to bargain-hunting, the cheaper  the better, and reveled in the unexpected find. Rebelling against the expensive, exclusive notion of good taste I’d grown up with, I felt like I was proving something — that one can look well dressed, stylish and interesting on the tiniest of budgets.  I still love telling those who ask  how much something they’ve complimented me on actually cost, or where i bought it…just for the surprise look on their faces. Its most fun when someone mistakes something for a designer ; “oh, is that a so-and-so? ” No, its TJMaxx…To re-contextualize something cheap or ktischy in such a way that it takes on another life has been a kind of guiding challenge over the years, my early exposure to details like construction, cut, and materials – my mother, for example, always inspecting the inside of a garment to see if/how the seams were finished, or checking a garment label – providing me to the skills to pull it off.

Lately, though, I’ve been noticing this species of women, late 30s through early 50s, who still dress as if they’re  twenty-one, or appear to, anyway. The kind who assume idealized versions of themselves from some golden age in the past, or who need to prove they’re still ultra-hip.  I’ve always liked modifying my “look” for just the novelty of it, but the idea of age-appropriate clothing has never entered my thinking (despite my mother’s prodding) — until recently.

As I turn 45 – a marker of middle-age, if ever there was one – I find myself wondering if I should prune my wardrobe down to “essential” pieces. Get rid of short skirts,  kitschy patterns (except for super-fab collectibles, of course), etc. in favor of more streamlined, “flattering” styles. With this in mind, I started searching for bathing suits online, and bought a custom job by a designer out in Portland – a red and white polka-dot two-piece inspired by 40s-era pin-ups with high-waist bottom and halter top – and a black full piece by Tripp NYC that’s got studs and a criss-cross open back. I didn’t have the cheddar to buy the one I really loved by Agent Provocatuers ($799), which is fabulous and probably not age appropriate, or the other one I loved  by Zimmermans ($233), though as mom would have said, if I hadn’t bought two suits, I could have sprung for the latter, but then she’s never understood the pleasures of more. Of course, I’ve hardly worn either since I’ve not been to the beach but a few times.

Still, the whole experience got me wondering about this sartorial need to adjust one’s “look” to reflect and accomodate a changing appearance/body. Does it comes from a savvy  instinct to maintain one’s stylistic dignity  or from a capitulation to a youth-obsessed culture that manufactures a two-dimensional, media-centric notion of beauty where surface is everything. I mean, I’m not suddenly going to wear frumpy suits and sensible shoes, but does that mean I can’t do mini-skirts, or wink-wink vintage anymore? What exactly constitutes “youthful” clothes these days, and should older women avoid them?

One of my ultimate fashion icons, Anna Piaggi, manages to transcend these sorts of distinctions by being outrageously herself. Her love of crazy patterns, bold forms, odd proportions, and  high-low sense of couture has always thrilled me.  And then there’s Lynn Yeager, whose picture I recently encountered gave this debate (do I accept the notion of age-appropriate dress or refuse it as bourgeouis bunk?) a whole new dimension.  I literally didn’t recognize her at first, ethough her signature cupid bow lips, red pixie hair, white powdered skin, and geisha cheeks were all intact.  All I saw was “grandma” — the dolls she grasped in her lap, of course, didn’t help. It kind of blew my mind, and made me realize how much I admire those brave enough to maintain their trademark look no matter how old they get, and even in the face of potential ridicule, or  worse, unwitting self-parody. Such is the fate of fashion warriors, I guess, who refuse to accomodate social norms regarding beauty.

So what to do? Buy a hat or headband by SHcreations, a British girl from Surrey I just came across on etsy.com? They’re not only fun but ridiculously affordable (many under $30), the kind of thing I would have bought in a second in my more adventurous days (and the cheap versions I see around pale by comparison – I’m SO sick of bows!). A part of me says, Do it, why not? Style has nothing to do with age. Which of course, it doesn’t. But then I think maybe I can’t carry it off anymore. We can’t all be Anna Piaggis and Lynne Yaegers, after all.

Or is this shit all in my head? Is there a point at which an aging woman,or man for that matter, who to remain attractive and look well-dressed has to retire their youthful clothes because the “face” and/or body just don’t match up?  Or Is dressing in kid-sized t-shirts, hoochie mama heels, babydoll dresses, dog collars, mini-skirts, etc. after 40 really the ultimate F-U?  And not denial? I go back and forth on this: believing a woman has the right to look and dress however she wants, NO MATTER WHAT, but then finding myself in a cringe when one of these woman who from a-far (or behind) looks like some dolled-up teen turns out to be, once one gets a closer gander, “old”. The kind of woman other women make fun of, or feel the need to cluck on about, with me often being their only defender (despite my strange, overly-identifying reaction of initial horror, I’ve always been of the sistahs-should-support-sistahs school of feminism  — and if you think all feminists are that loyal you’re sadly mistaken.)

Anyway, I’m really curious what people think about this subject. Is the refusal to adhere to the idea of age-appropriate dress a matter of rebellion, personal taste, feminism, or society’s pathological obsession with youth? I’ve been thinking a lot as well about this new 2-D ideal of beauty that’s evident, I find, in the preponderance of actors who’ve had nose jobs, face lifts, cheek implants, etc. all to look good on TV or in film, achieving a sense of proportion attractive only in flat, frontal images. Put these people in motion, and there’s a whole new set of awkward proportions. I’ve even noticed the use of bangs to deflect this profile problem where the bridge of a sawed down nose appears to almost dip in relation to the forehead plane, messing with natural proportions. Maybe being in the eye of the camera all the time convinces people that they exist more signficantly as images rather than embodied beings. I don’t know, but it all seems connected to a general fear of death, and the persistent equation of a woman’s worth with her sexual viability. As the ultimate sex symbol Raquel Welch said on Oprah promoting in her new book, Beyond the Cleavage: “Old is the last dirty word for a woman”.

MARY JO DIEHL/HOUSE OF DIEHL:

They say, there’s no ACOUNTING for taste. I say, there’s no ACCOUNTANT for taste. Because, who the fuck would take the job knowing they’d be “audited” every six months—at best— in accordance with fashion’s “completely new” collections, directions, fabrics, cuts and rules—yeah, right. Taste is one of those words that really irritates me. Like transvestites that have a better ass than I do, like TomKat’s Marriage, like Nicole Kidman’s Forehead- it is a sham… a 24-carat charade that passes itself off as a diamond-encrusted reality. Taste, and the fascist fashionistas that evangelically support it, want you to believe that this whimsical, transient, cult-like style OPINION is an unequivocal reality. Taste demands to be treated like a “lady”, despite the fact that we all know she’s a dime-store hooker that was bargained down from 50 bucks on the west side highway. I can’t overstate my distaste for taste. So I say, fuck taste! All great style icons dis taste.

And, quite simply Taste is typically at odds with great STYLE. Hot & Not Lists, “Buy, Keep, Store” directives & our consumer culture of “In & Out” are disarmed in the face of the enviable charm of the woman who has developed her very own definitive, very personal style…the kind of style that actually determines and defines Taste. The kind of taste that even your Mom would be proud of—as long as it is available in Bloomies.

There are inexpensive clothes and there are cheap clothes—and whether or not an item comes from the Good Will is not the marker. Cheap clothes can be found in Macy’s just as often as The Salvation Army. However, inexpensive QUALITY clothes got to be vintage. As a self-proclaimed RAG-HAG, Goodwill gets me salivating like a Gucci garage sale. Why? Simply put: Thrift clothes/vintage clothes are the poor man’s couture. And, when I say “poor man,” I mean someone who wouldn’t auction off a kidney for a dress. One of a kind, often made from better fabrics, better construction—In the past clothes were built to last.

Old styles never really die. Lack of storage space makes it impossible to house them while they’re sleeping. There’s very little “new” fashion, too many new products. Grabbing a great, on-trend vintage piece just means you’re beating Marc Jacobs to the punch, before he finds it, reproduces it and sells it back to you for 1,000 times the price. Designers recycle style — I recycle fashion.

I first met Mary Jo at her baby shower, which she was co-hosting with a mutual friend, and dressed in heels, a silky blue shirt-dress, and ear-to-ear grin, I immediately found her warmth and style seductive. The brainchild of her and her husband, Roman Milisic, House of Diehl has turned the idea of couture on its head, proving that fashion, like art, is about more than flash and trend. Bucking notions of good taste, and the over-worn notion that you pay for what you get, their infamous “STYLE WARS” re-invent the way fashion is shown and created, blending music (think mc battles but with designers) and performance (imagine if project runway had an instant couture contest using recycled “junk”) in public spectacles that are much fun to watch as to participate in (audience members are often models) . For more information on House of Diehl, and t go to: http://www.buenosairesherald.com/PrintedEdition/View/19071 and http://www.societyhae.com/profiles/blogs/forget-ready-to-wear-get-ready, and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_of_Diehl

Tweet