"Palin: Posh or Pedestrian?" (10/28/08)

As the election approaches, attention has shifted from politics to pantsuits. Clothes have become a campaign issue.

Image experts have always postulated that dressing for success is especially important for politicians; smart dressing connotes recognition of the serious responsibility involved, and the polish necessary to get the job done smoothly. This is probably one of the reasons that Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin has undergone a last minute, dramatic transformation, abandoning her gubernatorial cowl-neck sweaters for couture skirt suits.

“Outfitgate” is the latest scandal rocking the Republican campaign. In recent weeks, Palin has ditched her J.C. Penney clothes for a $150,000 designer wardrobe from high-end, high–price tag department stores like Barneys, Saks Fifth Avenue, and Neiman Marcus. The Republican Party footed the considerable bill.

The sartorial scandal offers us an interesting opportunity to reflect on the relationship between clothes and communication: What do the clothes we wear tell people about what we believe in?

The question applies to the clothing choices we make in our everyday lives. I can’t stand clutter, and my clothes communicate that I prioritize organization: I am big on color coordination, and I prefer crisp cropped jackets to lackadaisical layers. These are pretty innocuous sentiments; it’s likely that no one but my roommate minds my obsession with order. The clothes worn by a public figure, especially a politician, are much more controversial—especially when the messages the clothes communicate are incongruous with the politician’s platform.

The Republican Party has pitched Sarah Palin to the American people as a moose-hunting hockey mom. Her appeal was partly due to her embodiment of middle class ideals. Her cable-knit turtlenecks were versatile enough to go from campaign meeting to PTA meeting. These clothes reflected Palin’s investment in being both a career woman and a family woman, an ideology championed by the present Republican campaign. Palin’s new wardrobe seems incompatible with the middle-class family values that she has publicly espoused; an Oscar de la Renta skirt suit would be out of place in an ice rink.

Moreover, the shopping spree could spell political disaster in a period of economic crisis, in which $150,000 is more than a year’s salary for many Americans. Given the state of the American economy, spending so much on clothes seems frivolous and out of touch. The Republican campaign has been interested in trying to identify with Joe Six-Pack, but no Joe can afford a wardrobe that costs more than a car or a college education. Stores like Target and J.C. Penny, on the other hand, are infinitely more relatable. These stores can be found in almost every town in America and offer clothes within the voters’ price range. Target’s line of clothes by designer Isaac Mizrahi includes some speech-worthy cap-sleeve dresses that start at just $40. When topped with a $17 black cardigan, the outfit would definitely get my vote. If Palin wants to position herself as similar to a large portion of American voters, why does she choose not to dress like them?

Palin and McCain have suggested that the expensive ensembles are just campaign costuming and will be returned or donated to charity following the election. But why have Palin dress up only to later put her back in the consignment-store jeans she proudly wore in front of crowds at a campaign stop in Alaska? The Republican Party needs to think about the ideological implications of Palin’s skirts and suits. At this stage in the race to the White House, alienating the voting population would be a major faux pas. When dressing the part costs an arm and leg, it might cost Palin some votes as well.

"Eco Chic" (10/21/08)

Green is the new black.

It’s hardly surprising, given that “environmental sustainability” is one of the most prominent catchphrases of the moment. Questions of sustainability and development have inevitably become hot issues in the current presidential race, manifest in debates about drilling in the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge and America’s dependence on foreign oil. With the ozone layer rapidly depleting, eco-warriors encourage wasteful Americans to be more conscientious consumers and consider the environmental implications of the food we eat and the cars we drive.
While many people probably feel a degree of gas-guzzling guilt, most shoppers are likely unaware of the environmental impact of the clothes that they buy. Conversations about consumption and environmentalism have begun to include discussions about skirts as well as SUVs. More than ever, the fashion industry is getting in on the environmental action.

The eco-chic craze first registered on my fashion radar a few years ago, when Anya Hindmarch’s “I am not a plastic bag” totes took London by storm. The initial shipment sold out within two hours at the Sainsbury supermarket chain, and the bag has since become a coveted North American import. Though originally intended to serve as a cute replacement for their environmentally toxic plastic counterparts, the totes became the purses du jour for fashion fiends everywhere, and were spotted on the arms of international It Girls such as Kate Beckinsdale.

Since hemp is no longer the only eco-friendly fabric, green doesn’t have to be granola. Recent Project Runway winner Leanne Marshall is a champion of conscientious couture. Her impeccably tailored and beautifully structured garments are as easy on the environment as they are on the eyes: Marshall used recycled textiles and natural materials such as organic cotton to create the fanciful wave dresses that she rode to Runway glory.

Marshall’s fanciful frocks are out of a student’s price range, but it’s possible to go green on a budget. Clothing megachain The Gap has jumped aboard the eco-friendly bandwagon. In spring 2007, the brand’s 500 North American stores began carrying men’s shirts made from unbleached organic cotton. Conventional cotton is maintained by chemicals that soak up nearly a quarter of the world’s pesticides. At $16.50 a pop, these shirts are a wallet-friendly way to wear your environmental consciousness on your sleeve.

Target is another superbrand that’s invested in affordable eco-fashion. From May 18 to June 28, 2008, the retail stores featured pieces by the 11th GO International designer, recent CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund winner Rogan Gregory. Gregory, a renowned purveyor of high-end eco-chic, is the latest in a line of hip designers commissioned by Target to translate their expensive pieces to a lower price-point. Nature-inspired palettes and relaxed silhouettes were paired with bold hues and feisty prints, giving the collection an easy, edgy vibe. The line, which included wardrobe staples like loose tanks, wrap dresses, and hoodies in addition to more dramatic wide-leg trousers and crocheted blouses, used organic cotton, bamboo, and linen, and started at just $14.99. H&M also carries an affordable organic line that enables students to save without skimping on style.

Though it relieves the burden on the environment, some eco-friendly clothing increases the toll on laborers. To make eco-chic clothing profitable, large companies might find themselves having to cut corners in other ways. It is important to remember that eco-friendly doesn’t necessarily mean worker-friendly: Some clothes given the eco-friendly stamp of approval are deplorable when it comes to labor regulations. In order to get the cheapest price and lowest turn around time, large organic operations continue to export physical labor to countries that are notoriously lax on labor laws. Levi’s is one company that puts its money where its mouth is: In addition to using organic fibers in many of its clothes, it has negotiated fair contracts with laborers. I hope that more chain stores follow this model and provide affordable clothes while having commendable ethics.

At its core, the eco-chic movement is about encouraging stylish, small-scale adjustments to stimulate a large-scale transformation. Those in the know realize that when it comes to fashion, the adage “you are what you wear” has been amended to include, “you are what you do.”

"Well-Suited" (10/14/08)

Whether he aspires to the glory of manly sports or to be a dapper man-about-town, sometimes a guy needs to suit up. This can be a sticky sartorial situation.

On one hand, the suit raises the specter of bar mitzvahs, prom, and cheesy yearbook photos. There’s no question that when worn at a young age, suits can make boys look like babies trying to be men. For many young men, the suit marks the pubescent transition from sweaty to sophisticated. Despite the fact that they looked uncomfortable and uptight whenever they were forced into suits, I was delighted to see my endearingly gangly, pimpled high school classmates looking scrubbed and dapper for a change—even if my prom date did accent his crisp black suit with scuffed Chuck Taylors and enormous aviator sunglasses. You can put a boy in a suit, but the clothes don’t make the man; I’ve found that the ubiquitous yearbook photos with the somber and scholarly suit and tie always wind up making the gentleman who wears them look awkward, terrified, and somehow, even younger than his eighteen years.

On the other hand, suits are the uniform of our parents’ generation. My father has a closet full of suits purchased BCF—Before Casual Fridays. When he was applying to law school, crisp suits were as much a prerequisite as good LSAT scores.

So today, as we get ready for restaurants without drive-thrus, dinner parties that include wine in bottles instead of boxes, and scary “real-world” job interviews, the question becomes, how does a guy wear a suit without looking like either a little kid playing dress-up or a middle-aged businessman?

I posed this question to fourth-years Wayne Kang, Jay Martinez, and Sheldon Levy, three well-suited fashionistos. All three agree that the key to suit success is proper tailoring; youthful, bold accessories; and confidence to spare.

First rule of thumb: Never wear a suit right off the rack. “There’s no such thing as a suit that doesn’t need to be tailored,” explains Kang. “A tailor will check the fit across the shoulders and examine the width around the torso to make sure that the jacket closes but isn’t too loose. The reason that people look like they’re little kids wearing their dads’ suits is generally that the shoulders are too loose or that the pant legs are too wide.”

Martinez agrees. “Make sure that the suit is custom-fit for your body,” he advises. “It’s important to keep your body type in mind. Remember that there are multiple cuts of suits. For a guy with more weight around the middle, three buttons works better than two buttons.” Martinez himself just bought his first suit in celebration of his 21st birthday. He chose a three-button pinstripe suit, which lengthens his already tall frame and has an overall slimming effect.

Taking a cue from Neil Strauss’s bestselling memoir-cum-dating guide The Game, Martinez and Levy suggest that college students should “peacock” their formal outfits with pieces of flair. Martinez says that students can keep a suit from looking stuffy by jazzing it up with flashy accessories like “a paisley pocket square, a colorful tie, cool cufflinks, or even a flower.” Levy, a passionate proponent of the suit vest and fedora, believes that when worn with confidence, unique accessories draw positive attention. “It’s a confidence booster,” says Levy. “When you wear something you feel good in, people respond well, and that gives you the push to be more outgoing.” All the men agree that the suit itself should be classic and somewhat conservative. “You should generally stay away from more exotic fabrics, because as a student, you’ll only have the budget for two or three suits. Gray suits and pinstripe suits are good investments. Seersucker and linen suits are really hard to pull off—also, they scream Ivy League, yacht club, and over-preppiness,” says Kang. Adding points of visual interest to a timeless suit keeps the look fresh and age-appropriate.

Kang, Levy, and Martinez agree that confidence is the key to pulling off the look with style. By their early 20s, most men have probably only worn suits for interviews, internships, and the occasional formal event, but Kang likes to integrate pieces of his suit into his every day wardrobe by pairing the jacket with different pants and shirts. “Wearing a suit in a more casual way implies that you’re a confident, independent person who knows how to make subtle changes to be dressed appropriately for any situation,” he adds. Martinez suggests that a man can dress a suit down for more daily wear by omitting the tie or substituting a plain polo shirt for a stiff, collared one. Confidence makes it clear that you’re wearing the clothes and that they’re not wearing you.

“It’s the man, and not the [tailor], who makes his clothes, that makes a good impression,” says Kang. While intelligence, eloquence, competence, and a sense of humor will ultimately carry you much further than nicely cuffed suit pants, a sharply tailored ensemble is a powerful weapon to have in your arsenal. My arbiters of male style believe—and probably rightly so—that when they suit up and hit the field, they can tackle both potential employers and dates without looking like they just escaped from a cubicle. The combination of style and substance will never go out of fashion.

"Cradle Culture" (10/07/08)

It’s no secret that fashion fetishizes youth.

Vogue’s annual “Age Issue” (August 2008) – which proposes to show readers how to be beautiful from ages seventeen to seventy – is always a reminder that younger is better. This year’s issue featured profiles of stylish, smart, savy female staffers whose ages ranged from twentysomething to seventy-plus. The self-styled spreads were supposed to help readers learn to cultivate a sense of personal style, the elusive je ne sais quoi of the fashion world. Despite the fact that the editorial focused on personal style, the clothes weren’t modeled by the women who chose them. Instead, models impersonated the Vogue writers, some of whom were former models themselves. The implication that a forty-year old former model is so over the hill that she has to be replaced by a fresh-faced newcomer was enough to make me queasy.

The ever-growing, ever-younger crop of in-demand models is a symptom of a larger “cradle culture” that covets youth. Many of the successful models walking in shows for Prada and Marc Jacobs appear practically pre-pubescent. In any given month, fashion magazines dedicates umpteen pages to celebrating – and evaluating the relative merits – of a number of miracle serums and portable fountains of youth. Coupled with some sneaky scalpel work, these procedures are able to keep readers looking their youngest.

Maybe miniskirts do look better before varicose veins take over. But in my experience, age, rather than the prevention of it, can also be a beauty secret.

At 75, my grandmother is one of the chicest women I know. Apart from her daily swims, moisturizing regimen, and religious application of sunscreen, she hasn’t taken any pains to halt the aging process. She rarely wears any makeup other than a swipe of plum lipstick, but always looks elegant, composed, and self-possessed. I don’t think that she has aged gracefully; I think it’s more accurate to say that as she has aged, she has become even more beautiful.

Since clothes fanaticism runs in my family, shopping trips are a right of passage. I remember being thrilled when I was finally invited to participate in the tradition my grandmother had long shared with her four daughters. We swap clothes and put together ensembles for one another, but my favorite part of the trip is watching the other women look at themselves in the mirror.

My mother and I purse our lips in the same way when we try on clothes. We scrutinize our bodies in the mirror, sometimes with acceptance, and sometimes with derision. Frequently, we peer incredulously at parts of our bodies that suddenly look bigger – or smaller, or lower, or wider – than we remembered. We grab uncomfortably at seams, trying to fit ourselves into pants that just aren’t right.

It’s a different story with my grandmother. Instead of grimacing, she looks calmly and patiently at her reflection, and asks us if we think that a shorter turtleneck would be more comfortable. She no longer feels the need to stuff herself into a pair of pants; she understands the value of finding clothes that fit, rather than trying to fit yourself into clothes.

In a way, her aging body beautifully and sensitively narrates the story of her busy and exciting life. Her toned legs and sun-spotted arms are products of her penchant for hiking in Morocco and Athens. Her tall frame can carry off the graphic prints she’s collected on her trips around the world. She doesn’t have time to waste on clothes that are too fussy or constricting. She wears clothes with an effortlessness that is only achieved through rejecting self-criticism and self-doubt.

My grandmother has taught me that the secrets to looking good are simple: don’t try too hard, buy the right size, and find a good tailor. Though some of the outfits she’s tried to coax me into have been pretty outrageous, the advice is sound: find clothes that let you move, and show your body without accentuating its less-than-perfect features. She’s always told me to stick away from clothes that hide my shape or fit like a second skin. The idea isn’t to look like someone else, but like the prettiest, healthiest, and happiest version of you.

Maybe by taking some lessons from the worldlier fashionistas in our lives, we can all feel more comfortable in our jeans, and in our own skin.

"Fashion Victim" (10/04/08)

This summer, I escaped unscathed, but last summer, I wasn’t so lucky. A year ago, I was a Fashion Week Hostage.

I had spent the summer working in an art magazine’s Soho office, and delighted in my daily routine of spending my lunch break browsing the Prada boutique next door (followed by a frantic dash to the notoriously unglamorous Sabrett stand for a lunch that was friendly on the budget, but not on the body). Despite the fact that the greasy food turned my stomach, I was convinced that ombre pumps, feathered trenches, and structured purses nourished me more than a balanced lunch of grilled fish and steamed vegetables ever could.

I wasn’t bothered by the fact that I stood out in Prada like a Canal Street fake in an uptown Louis Vuitton. Though I worship the cult of chic, I am hardly the picture of poise. On one memorable morning last summer, I forgot an umbrella, got soaking wet, and spilled an entire cup of tea down the front of my white sundress on my way into the office. I accepted the fact that my ensembles would never resemble the concoctions featured in fashion editorials: my light-colored shirts always feature prominent pit stains, and since I can never seem to remember to hang up my linen pants instead of rolling them into a ball in my closet, my trousers are perpetually tousled. But until the models invaded my world, I thought I looked pretty ok.

Ever since I bought my first fashion magazine, I have swooned over Lily, Coco, and Sasha without ever resenting their sinewy thighs or razor-sharp clavicles. I thought of the models as lovely, fictional characters, who, like Estella Havisham or Elizabeth Bennett, were confined to distant pages. Imagine my shock when they leapt out of Elle and onto Houston street and landed safely on their Jimmy Choo-clad feet. By the beginning of September, no Manhattan street was safe.

Fashion Week has the potential to make women feel like ugly ducklings. The allure of couture is the aspect of dreamy, whimsical fantasy – impossibly high heels, impractically long dresses, inappropriately bedazzled bodices, all displayed on an incredibly beautiful human hanger. Models’ physiques and faces are also fantastical – their proportions and striking features are largely unattainable for the majority of women, save those with the bank accounts and spare time to accommodate strict exercise regimens and extensive cosmetic surgery. I was never bothered by the fact that my thigh will always be bigger than Giselle’s torso until I saw hordes of models in person. When all of the most famous models in the world gather in one place, it becomes difficult to remember that they are the genetic anomalies. When the glamazons descended upon Manhattan, I felt like I was the only non-model left in the city.

This year, I made it out just in time. My museum internship ended at the end of August, and I left New York just before Fashion Week. I watched the shows from the comfort of my couch, wearing slouchy pajamas and a decidedly unchic ponytail. Those who did score entry to the hallowed Bryant Park tents or watched the shows on tv or online saw some gorgeous presentations, and some garish ones. I lusted after Project Runway contestant Leanne’s ethereal space chic dresses. They appeared both delicate and utilitarian and seemed to draw inspiration from both organic and industrial shapes. I hope that PR judges Heidi, Michael, and Nina loved them as much as I did! Surprisingly, wunderkind sisters Laura and Kate Mulleavy faltered with the collection they designed for their label, Rodarte. The brand is known for creamy confections like tiered dresses and ruffled skirts and blouses, but the new collection reads more schoolmarm than sumptuous treat. The holey spiderweb knits left me cold. Also, despite my hopeful optimism – and the best efforts of Diane von Furstenburg, president of the Council of Fashion Designers of America – many designers still failed to prominently feature black models on their runways. Rodarte and Calvin Klein used one each, and Jill Stuart used four, but dress diva Monique Lhullier and East-meets-West glam girl Vivienne Tam didn’t use any. Chicago’s Fresh Faces fashion show, presented by Gen Art, will be October 1^st, and I hope that our hometown producers and casting directors strut in the right direction.

With the models who dwarfed me and inspired my insecurity relegated to the television and computer screens, I was able to view Fashion Week for was it is: a glorious, somewhat gratuitous, opportunity to fawn over fit and fabric. Fashion is decadent but, like most things, is fine in moderation as part of an otherwise healthy lifestyle. I love New York, London, Milan, and Paris Fashion Weeks because they feel like Thanksgiving: a few days of delicious gluttony before returning to normal eating. I appreciate the few days of gorging on yummy designer treats while remembering that my own clothes are more mac-and-cheese than fillet mignon. That fits me just fine.

"Out of Vouge," (9/28/08)

Many of us take Camus and Copernicus more seriously than couture. While there’s nothing wrong with this, we shouldn’t simply dismiss fashion as a frivolity. Fashion isn’t irrelevant, even if you’d prefer to curl up with Oscar Wilde rather than Oscar de la Renta. Fashion magazines don’t just sell purses and Prada shoes; they sell ideologies that affect both the fashion-fluent and the fashion-phobic.

Though primarily beacons of sartorial perfection, these magazines are also fascinating cultural indices. Recent issues of Vogue have – sometimes intelligently, and sometimes with laughable naiveté and political-incorrectness – explored the size and shape of racism and sexism in the fashion industry and beyond.

American Vogue’s annual “Shape” issue (May 2008) is always a half-hearted attempt to put some meat on the fashion industry’s bones. Vogue advertises fashion and fantasy, so when it attempts to infiltrate (normal-sized) reality, it’s a little hard to swallow. The magazine’s somewhat-condescending attempt to empathize with the non-skeletal leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The perfunctory acknowledgement that model bodies are an anomaly never feels genuine coming from the lips – or computer – of Editrix-in-Chief Anna Wintour, who has based her career on waif-worship. Straddling the line between reality and Photoshopped fiction, Vogue seems to want to buy the stilettos and wear them, too.

In her editor’s letter, Wintour wrote about approaching Kate and Laura Mulleavy, the dynamic sister design duo behind the brilliant and whimsical label Rodarte, with a “dream proposition”: a free, four-month diet and exercise plan. The Mulleavys, who probably wore a size 12 before Anna’s intervention, shrugged off the magazine’s claim that this plan would give them “peace of mind and the energy to prosper,” suggesting instead that Wintour simply found their size incongruous with their fashion stature. Even when Vogue shines the spotlight on normal-sized women, the subtext reads loud and clear: “We only accept non-model bodies when they’re on their way to being thin!”

This year’s issue bit off way more than it could chew when editors chose the cover shot featuring athlete LeBron James and model Giselle Bündchen. These two seem like inappropriate cover choices for an issue that purports to celebrate non-homogenized shapes: they each embody limited gendered ideals of beauty – James as the masculine muscleman, and Bündchen as the fragile female.

The disturbing photo also arouses poignant connotations of ugly racism. The composition references the iconography of vintage film posters for the movie King Kong, depicting a primal, savage brute capturing a beautiful woman. James is screaming or growling, his face contorted into a menacing scowl, while lithe Bündchen, beaming in an effervescent green evening gown, slips out of his grasp. Photographer Annie Liebovitz portrayed James as big, violent, and scary, a trope of black masculinity that should have gone out of style decades ago.

Had the magazine acknowledged and problematized these themes, the cover choice could have been a clever way of inviting readers to re-examine historical and contemporary racial stereotypes. Since the writers failed to critically engage these topics, the Shape issue was less a celebration of diverse bodies than a sad statement on the size and shape of intolerance in the fashion industry.

The June 2008 issue of American Vogue featured another shocking shoot, entitled “From Here to Timbuktu.” The editorial, featuring stunner Liya Kebede, was shot in Mali. Author Sally Singer wrote that the city was like “a sandbox at the end of the Earth,” a type of exotic playground for Westerners. Singer described the local children’s “East meets West” style as something reminiscent of a “Dries van Noten catwalk.” Attempting to establish a similarity between carefully-styled eclecticism and the mis-matched clothing necessitated by poverty revealed extreme cultural primitivism and the author’s shockingly-cavalier insensitivity to a world beyond the runway.

The fashion news isn’t all fatalistic. In July, as tech-heads waited in line for the new iPhone, fashionistas braved the well-heeled crowd to snag a copy of Italian Vogue’s all-black issue, a response to the whitewashed catwalks. Every editorial in the coveted issue featured a cast of black beauties including icons Naomi, Tyra, Liya, Alek, and Iman, and gorgeous newcomers Jourdan Dunn, Arlenis Sosa, and Chanel Iman. Charismatic Chanel is finally mainstream and down-market as one of the fresh faces of the Gap’s fall line.

The fashion spreads, shot by renowned photographers including Steven Meisel, mostly managed to avoid reductive tropes of “blackness,” and at times even investigated the meaning of “ethnic” beauty, such as the thoughtful and challenging shoot that subverted the notion of “blackface.” The magazine also embraced bigger beauty, including a gorgeous spread featuring full-figured model Toccara Jones, of America’s Next Top Model fame. Though the features were fabulous, the ads separating them – for brands like Dior, Prada, and Dolce & Gabbana – included only white models, which only emphasized the extent to which black models are still a rarity in the fashion world.

Fall means it’s time for cardigans, boots, and Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. I’m looking forward to seeing some of my favorite designers – especially Philip Lim – flex their creative muscles when New York City’s Bryant Park is overtaken by the fabulously fashionable on September 5^th. I’m also excited to see whether the runways will be diverse enough to begin to redeem some of Ms. Wintour’s recent plus-sized faux-pas. I hope that this year’s Fashion Week will show that the size and shape of fashionable things to come is larger and more colorful.