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Everyone has something to say about Christmas fashions: whether its summer frocks in the southern hemisphere or the latest Chanel boots where its cold, the world is saturated with parties and the applicable garments. I, personally, do not enjoy the summer Christmas as I think tans are tacky, Im not that into seafood, I hate my face melting just because I turned my head, and Im very fond of snow, seeing my breath in the air, quirky coats, tights and closed in shoes (feet are gross, guys, face it).
Chanel, stylish at Christmas in addition to all year round. Image from jupitercreative.co.uk
Regardless of where you are in the developed world, though, there is a Christmas trend that is all encompassing. I have never heard any use of the trend criticized, and furthermore, everyone can appreciate and understand it. I am speaking of the fundamental basic in Christmas life that demonstrates your jolly nature and Christmas spirit: Christmas lights.
Yowser. Image from planetchristmas.com
Originally representing the star the three wise men were supposed to have followed, Christmas lights are now the tour de force of any festive cheer. The star moved from the top of the tree, to little orbs surrounding it, and somehow, like vines, snaked their way out the front, onto the front of the house and are now so overgrown, theyre hanging out of peoples front lawns. I blame National Lampoons Christmas Vacation for the excess in outdoor illumination.
The Griswald House. Image from x-entertainment.com
First, I was just annoyed at the sudden proliferation in the non-white variety. I like classic stuff, and when ice blue, tangerine and Mrs Claus mauve started to be strung from rooftop to tree, I cringed a little. Next came the flashing. Now, in my books, flashing lights belong in clubs, and even then it feels a bit overbearing. When its right outside my bedroom window, I dream about having epileptic fits. The worst observation Ive made is the inherent lack to even attempt a stylised application of lights. Its looks like kids have toilet papered every house in suburbia, and at night it magically turns into brightness and colours, people morphing into moths and approaching slowly, saying ooh, pretty! I am critical, yes, but I cant remember the last time someone actually took the time to make their lights less merry (read: garish), except for the person at the end of my road who actually hired a Christmas lights decorator (I dont know where I stand on this kind of occupation). Excessive Christmas lights are proof of the commercialisation of Christmas, rarely representative of the spiritual origins of the holiday, or the enjoyment of family and friends. The worst aspect is how, after a green year where a great deal of attention has been paid to global warming, everyone puts their finger on the pause button for Christmas light madness, expecting the environment to slow down on the whole climate change thing for a couple of weeks.
The new Christmas Light Colour Brat Pack. Image from blog.scifi.com
If you are one of the glowing many, be nice to the environment and my eyes, and dont put so many (ugly) lights up next year. If you must, only put them on in the few days surrounding Christmas. Sure, sparkly stuff can be pretty at Christmas, but nature is beautiful all year round. Plus the lack of style has resulted in people insisting on giant inflatable Santas, and moving blow-up carousels, which I just do not understand.
Sometimes I hate fashion, or more specifically, when something is in fashion. As someone who consistently tries to not wear the in-the-moment look, being confronted by what seemed like every girl on George Street wearing my style was like a slight on my wardrobe philosophy.
This happened a few years ago, and according to fashion experts, designers, icons and industry persons, it is not going away too soon. If ever. The buzzword Im referring to is vintage. Trawl eBay these days and anything youre looking for is likely to be touted as vintage, retro, old-school and so [insert era]. To clarify, I dont have a problem with vintage wear at all. It practically consumes all my hangers, shelves and drawers. My issue is with the consequences and ramifications of vintage becoming what I would call a cultural movement.
eBay, and in a very vintage setting. Image from wdr.de
The whole concept of vintage wear is that what you select is supposedly one of a kind, a piece of treasure, like a wearable signature. Its meant to be invocative of a period, nostalgic and classic, a refreshing and unique spritz of style. A few models, celebrities and socialites later and it was no longer a haven of stunning fabrics, well-made articles and flattering designs. It had become one of those trend nightmares whose expiry date is well due. This, however, is the conundrum: to me, the vintage item is loaded with personality and anecdotes, and current fads fade before my (overly) critical eye. Suddenly, these two arenas of concept I had firmly established in my mind were solidifying into one mass. What was I going to wear? Would I be trend labelled? Who was I going to be? Fashion is a distinct medium of communication, but now everyone was singing my song.
Zooey Deschanel, collector of vintage coats, original vintageer and total babe. Image from jena-malone.info and cropped.
To be clear, I do not believe I was the only person wearing the clothes of another epoch. I was, and am, well aware that many others subscribed to the thrift store, op-shop and designer boutiques catering for the past. It was just tsunami of women crawling over one another to be vintage, live their nannas lives and get their retro on. Being identified as one of them scared me senseless. I eventually reasoned that people were wearing beautiful clothes again, and I could admire the proliferation of apparel on offer for me to admire. Where did she get that? How does that dress work? Why have the prices of clothes in this store suddenly tripled? Didnt I see someone else wearing that exact blouse ten minutes ago? Yes, the mass produced, pseudo vintage item. We were now in the second wave of vintage.
Potential suspect of the vintage sunglasses boom, often witnessed in YSL, Jackie-O and Wayfarer II Shades. Image from wordpress.com
The second wave of vintage spoke loud and clear: this is a trend and we are doing everything we can to cash in on it. When something moves from aestheticism to the economy, you have to question its appeal. Was this selling out? From a standpoint of preferring the originality of vintage wear, then yes. I could get the same blouse in four colours and six sizes.
Clothing from the actual past. Image from spitalfield.org.uk
I was, and still am, in vintage no-mans land. I cant speak negatively about vintage wear because I love it. I cant be unique if everyone else is wearing individuality as well, and I cant commit to a trend because I was part of it before it came along. Plus, its just against my style code morals. Im still hoping it will die down. I will happily become last season as everyone else updates. I also hope theyll donate their genuine vintage to the op-shops, so I can once more be thrifty and do my own thing.
September 27th 2007 07:25
The size zero debate is the new black, the latest fashion trend, which, like all fads, is probably not wise to buy (into) too much. I am not saying that the emaciated idealisation of the female body is not a problem, but that the media and public response is on the side of hysteria. For some perspective on my perspective, it should be known that I am not a size zero. I am not six foot tall, and I do not know anyone that has come under the attack of this new moralizing discourse.
A skinny model, quick! Where's the bandwagon?! Image from dancewithshadows.com
While I agree there are consequences to 'ultra-thin' perfectionism, I also believe there are great gaps in the solutions, and further discrepancies in the debate itself. I admit, restrictions on size in the smaller spectrum of models in Madrid, and soon Australia, are potentially positive, and could help alleviate expectations of and pressure on the industry's clothes horses. I also think the claims from the industry itself, arguing that the restrictions disenfranchise 'naturally thin' girls who always wanted to model a bit rich. Hey, I feel ripped off by the very tall modelling world because I'm five foot four. Furthermore, they would have been turned away for being 'too thin' ten years ago. Contextualise the situation, get a different job (that will last longer than five years), and get a clue.
My concerns are about how the moral panics treat their target. Often, it is as though they need protecting and guidance, with a voice of authority telling them what to do. Apparently, women still cannot think for themselves. Hello, women's liberation? Voice of reason, where did you go?
I have a sneaking suspicion that an industry established on viewing and aesthetics will always be attacked for violating physical and moral vision. Second wave feminists would have derided the fashion world for subscribing to a feminine ideal. People today question why some models are models at all, considering them ugly. It's all a matter of taste, and no one has any authority to tell another what should be considered attractive. Yes, designers are in a power position to send teeny items on tiny women down the runway, but that doesn't mean someone else has to agree it's what's hot. When Jean Paul Gaultier sent a size 20 model down the catwalk in lingerie, I did not agree it was a great stance against or for the debate. I do not think he was taking anything or anyone seriously. Big is beautiful? Overweight replacing underweight is not a sensible statement, nor is it respectful of the body at all. If Gaultier really wanted to make waves, maybe he could have had Australian size 12 women model his wears.
Jean Paul Gaultier's size 20 statement, image from dailymail.co.uk
I would love to see beautiful clothes on my ideal of a beautiful body, like Eva Green, Zooey Deschanel or some of my friends, but I know this will not happen. Frankly, I don't care: I'm looking at the clothes as a potential buyer, or for inspiration. The model just happens to wear what I'm considering, and is inconsequential to my decision. I am aware that this attitude is not universal, and I don't think it should be. The beauty of fashion is its invention, recycling, appropriation and invogorative capabilities, hardly the child of a single idea. I do not think moral panics surrounding the fashion industry will ever subside. I am a dubious person, and I am also starting to feel the first pricks of panic regarding the expiry date of models.
I don't know when it happened, but the humble accessory, once an interesting pair of earrings, has morphed into strange objects of vogue. I blame this on the co-habitation of the Consumer Culture and the Technological Age. Their love child is Consume-Tech, the dirty beast that requires people to have things, not out of interest or appreciation, but because everyone else has it. You know when someone says, "I'm going to the shops. Would you like anything?", and you feel the urge to make a request, but you can't actually imagine an object in your mind? That is a symptom of the cultural atmosphere of today: you simply must have something, anything at all.
One object that people feel the need to update update UPDATE is the mobile phone. Apparently, for one to be stylish, one must purchase an updated version of these gadgets every two months. I am therefore a total dag, as you can't even get a new battery for my phone and it was only released two years ago. Today's phones hold a microcosm of your world: your address book, your camera, your photo gallery, your video camera and associated home movies, your mp3 player, a radio, navigator systems, mirrors and they may even make phone calls too. It can't be singularly planed either - it has to flip, slide or rotate. Call me Aunty Mable, but I just don't get why something that is hidden most of the time is considered more desirable than a pair of Christian Louboutin's
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There is a hidden pleasure in the vintage item. Obviously, they compel for the beautiful designs, that they are probably one of a kind, and are loaded with anecdotes dating to when your mother was your age. My favourite part about old clothes is the incredible fabrics and patterns, as well as the perfect stitchwork - the only time well cared for vintage items ever falter is due to the rotting thread. My grandmother's old clothes amaze me, but I spend most of my time ooing and aahing at the seams, the hems, the way a zip, button, hook eye, dart, pleat or other has been cococted and remains, pristine.
Cream on Crown (Surry Hills) - a treasure chest of well-made gems. Image from refinery29.com
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How long did it take you to get dressed today? I had planned what to wear today well in advance of tucking myself into bed last night. Of course, nothing ever goes to plan. I had chosen a Kinki Gerlinki tent dress with puff sleeves, made of alternating thin stripes of red and blue wool. It has Impressionist style tapestry flowers over it. Oh man, I love it. I usually wear it with a black cardigan, as the dress is enough on its own, but today I was just not content with said cardigan. I then spent the next half an hour trying to figure out what to cover my arms and their goosebumps with (I eventually settled for a black fitted spencer underneath). Trying to sleep through the wardrobe bangs and groans of despair, my boyfriend was witness to my little "episode". He was also witness to a much more panicked, and altogether (with the benefit of hindsight, of course) pathetic case of 'I have nothing to wear' a week earlier. This one lasted an hour, and as a result, I was late to university. Yes, readers, I was freaking out about what to wear to university.
When I admitted to a friend the shames of my shallow life, she confided that she too has days where she feels so uncomfortable she wants to "get off the train and go home". Her self-conscientiousness is also a result of the perils of attending a city university (but to be fair, she goes to a university dedicated to art theory, history and practice
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In my dinner shifts as a bistro waitress, I come across a great deal of good and bad outfit decisions. For content purposes, I will refer only to dinner shifts only, as the lunching crowd are somewhat less inclined to look as they dress.
As part of the bourgeoisie crowd, most women arent really pushing my style buttons, but most put in some effort. To begin, there are dress codes before entering the venue, such as no hats, no soiled uniforms, no bare feet and no swimwear. However, the lady out for a night on the suburban town with the girls, ladies, man, kids, family or myriad of families is unlikely to be wearing any of the aforementioned outfits, even in the steamiest of Australian summers. I appreciate this modesty and thought. What I dont appreciate is the severe decline in any form of style and adherence to rules of taste, cut and colour, and sharp increase in the Mumsy look
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I arrived at work last night to see my manager with her hair down. She has straight dark blonde hair with distinct highlights (read: looks like a half skinned zucchini but in different colours), and I thought it looked very becoming. She thought it looked messy, like yours, then did some mime about my hair always being the same messy look. Other colleagues have called it stylishly unconsidered and dont take this the wrong way, but I really like your messy hair. Ok, cool. So where and how does hair go from being relaxed to the follicular version of my brothers room?
My mum and I whittled the discourse on hair down to not what you think is fashion, but how much you epitomise the look of your surrounding culture. If I looked at my manager, she lives in and around people who are in an eternal 2002. Other workmates hang out with Oprah during the day (ah, not actually), and on my recent days off, I have noticed that the hair stylist on Oprah is touting the uncoutured couture look
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Comment by the-mothball-cardigan
on Summer Footwear - From Thongs to Flip Flops
I think this just stems from my contempt for streetwear.