I am a huge fan of the avant garde designers Viktor & Rolf; I remember being introduced to them at an exhibit in the Museum of the City of New York (one of my favorite museums, a neglected gem in Spanish Harlem); the man’s style button-down shirt with the waterfall of collars peeling open (shown below) nearly blew my mind. I found out later that the 2003 fashion show this piece came from was inspired by the marvelously eccentric Tilda Swinton. Not only was she the muse for the collection, but in the ultimate runway presentation models were all Swintonized with red, slicked-back hair and whited-out faces with zero eye or lip color (Tilda is famous for going sans makeup, even to award ceremonies):

Viktor & Rolf - Fall 2003 RTW

After that first piece, I blazed through all their collections and visited their fun website which mimics an empty mansion and rides the line between the magical feel of a fairytale castle and the eerie feel of a whodunnit mansion murder mystery a la Clue, Murder By Death, or Gosford Park. I love V&R’s oh-so postmodern take on fashion — poking fun at the ridiculous nature of it, obviously having fun with it (the fashion industry can take itself a bit too seriously, non?), and yet honoring its traditions and motifs, like classic tailoring. Repetition and exaggeration of stylistic staples is a common commentary method for V&R, but check out their other collections, because they are guaranteed to surprise and probably shock season after season.

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FABULOUS

So the news item here is that after Viktor & Rolf announced they wouldn’t be showing at Paris Fashion Week, they revealed that their spring 2009 collection will be unveiled online, a brilliant decision that both garners attention in its oddness and democratically disseminates their collection to a wider audience in less time (click here for link to NYTimes On the Runway blog commentary on democratization of fashion). Shalom Harlow (who is one of the few models I can identify by name and find to be more beautiful than grotesque) is to be only model in the show.

Now here’s what really excites me: the wonderfully cheesy musical “Funny Face” (1957) is to be the show’s theme! I happen to be a huge fan of the campy musical genre, but even if you’re not, this one is particularly wonderful if you’re interested in fashion as a) it’s a loose biography of renowned 50s fashion photographer Richard Avedon (Fred Astair plays “Dick Avery”), and b) Edith Head outdoes herself on the costumes. There are some stunning photo shoots with Audrey Hepburn in a classic role of her as an awkward, mousy, bookish beatnik abducted by a fashion editor (played by flamboyant Kay Thompson) and turned into a first class fashion model. These shoots pretty much provide an excuse to dress Audrey in many pretty frocks filmed in stunning Technicolor, but how satisfying is that??

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SWdFyvlPhk&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0]

This movie has been recently resurrected by the Gap ads of Audrey dancing in black skinny pants, another gem of a scene that is ironically used to portray her character as distinctly unfashionable.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aERWhyafpik]

All this is a lengthy way of saying: I’m very excited to see the marriage of one of my favorite musicals merged with one of my favorite fashion teams. To be released online October 2.

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Ernst Kirchner self portrait, 1919

One of the few advantages of working in midtown is that I am just a couple minutes jaunt away from the MoMA, and every once in awhile, I actually take my full hour lunch break to soak up some visual culture. Yesterday I fought my way through the rainy day museum-attending mob (I believe it’s also free admission day) and attended a walking tour delivered by the stunningly beautiful and articulate Galia Fischer on one of my favorite artists, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner and his series of 11 Berlin street scene paintings, created 1913 – 1915 (a period I particularly love in fashion history, especially as it relates to pre-war times). Kirchner is known for his harsh, sweeping vertical lines, violent brushstrokes and dismal color schemes (I say “dismal” adoringly), not to mention his frequent subject of prostitutes (which in the scheme of art history is far from uncommon, but I’ll just throw it out there). To begin at the beginning:

“Five Women in the Street” (1913) was the first in Kirchner’s street series, and depicts the ladies of the night as birds of paradise (or perhaps a more domestic parrot), posing in their green habitat with green-tinged millinery plumage and greenish skin. The bird comparison is further emphasized by the bulky fur lapels that puff the chest area up, and the hobble skirts — both of which were popular fashions in the 19-teens — that coincidentally create bird-like, tapered legs and emphasize pointy feet.

Jeanne Paquin - hobble skirt

The women peer into what can be assumed to be a storefront on our right (the dark hash marks presumably the glass reflection) window shopping, while it may be inferred that the car sidling close on the left contains a man cruising through his own glass at the bodily merchandise they are displaying and hocking.

I really love the complex relationship between Voyeur and The Observed that windows and glass bring up. There are several great essays that deal with this topic in Sexuality & Space, published by the Princeton Press, specifically Beatriz Colomina’s “The Split Wall: Domestic Voyeurism” that discusses how architecture and constructed spaces can create nooks, for example, that feel cozy and safe but are actually framed like a stage, displaying rather than concealing.  Additionally, there is the layer of interior/domestic spaces being considered inherently feminine.  Though I’m delighted that “Five Women,” with its plein air ladies and automobile-hidden man, contradicts that convention in one sense, the way Kirchner has framed them hints at a more complex relationship.  The women are sandwiched tightly between the car and the window, and they touch the very edges of each side of his painting, suggesting that they’re boxed in (within their profession, within their greater role as women, etc.), even within their literal outdoor setting.

“Berlin Street Scene” (1913) has a wider array of colors than many other of Kirchner’s street scenes.  There are actually visible men in this one, but they are all made rather anonymous by their unvarying blue-black coats and high bowlers. By contrast, the two women become the focus by color alone; though they are half hidden by the two men, the woman in scarlet and her companion in bright blue pop out.  The woman-as-bird theme continues with the feathered hats, but this is a male perspective, I think.  What’s more telling about the closeness of the women’s relationship is that their hats match their companion’s coats and not their own.  This unifies them chromatically and implies their connection within the sea of dusky men, though they look away from each other.  As I went through the show, I realized that this was a favorite visual trick of Kirchner’s.

Galia pointed out that the face of the man we can actually see appears to be almost as grotesquely made up as the women’s: he has those smudgy kohl eyes and lips that match the woman in blue’s.  I like to imagine a little narrative: that those are two johns approaching the prostitutes but as they near, the one on the right turns away in disgust, twisting his body in a most awkward way so you almost can’t tell which way his body is facing.  But is he repulsed by the hookers (you must admit the one on the left, with mascara actually dribbling down her face, is not looking so appetizing), or himself?  Remember this is pre-WWI era, when gender roles — specifically in Berlin — were slowly being muddled as men went off to war and women took over their jobs, and by extension their social roles.  Though Berlin had (and has) a notoriously gender-experimental population, there seems always to be an underlying fear of feminization (and by extension, castration) fear held by men when ancient gender roles are blurred.  This particular man seems to be holding onto the last shreds of his masculinity with the sickly yellow, phallic cigarette dangling from his displeased mouth.

“Potsdamer Platz” (Square) (1914) has a color scheme I love: the chili pepper-red train station dominates the upper register while avacado/lime green streets slice through the lower half of the painting, somehow making even the round island the prostitutes stand on appear pointed.  The green seems to be literally reflected in the faces of the women as they stand on their perch (anther bird illusion?), with a healthy smattering of murky beige to soften the total effect of the scene… slightly.

Rosalind Russell in 1940s hat

The woman on the left is ensconced in severe black, with a flat black hat that was not a popular style (fashion historians, correct me if I’m wrong) at the time; in fact, it more closely resembles hats of the 1940s, another war period.  The broad hat becomes a platform from which to drape the oddly straight veil, whose evenly spaced vertical folds create quite a birdcage (that old theme again!) around her head, an effect punctuated by the white plumage atop it all.  This ensemble approximates mourning clothes — the white of the hat feathers and  the collar would have been inappropriate for true mourning-wear, but I liked Galia’s hypothesis that the prostitute was possibly attempting to elicit sympathy (and clients?!) from this odd costume choice.  This, after all, was the first year of WWI and there were increasing numbers of pitiable widows on the streets as husbands, brothers and fathers were killed.

The two elongated streetwalkers appear (ironically) stationary as they are surrounded by briskly striding men in black.  As with other Kirchner street scenes, the women fill the the frame from top to bottom, this time literally dwarfing the insignificant men portrayed in distorted perspective, 1/3 their size.  Interesting that the monumental women seem to be stagnating in a world of men with places to go, trains to catch, etc.  Social commentary, hmmm?

“Street, Berlin” (1913) has a very different color scheme from the others.  The purple dress, flamingo pink street and turquoise background are oddly fresh, if still slightly unnatural, shades.  The women’s smirking bubblegum pink faces are turned in conspiratorially toward each other’s again.  A man is in the foreground with and the same size as the hookers for once, and though he leans away with his whole body, looking down and away, his sneaky cane projects from his general crotch area and practically touches the woman on the right.  The fleshy path they all stand on parts in a cleft between the two figures and is emphasized with an outline of deeper red.  The prostitute in purple’s plunging plum coat with the fur lining, not to mention her hand which simultaneously conceals and draws attention to her own groin further drives the sexual context of this painting home.

“Women in the Street” (1915) has startling chartreuse background with dark forest green dress and deep blue dress worn by the familiar prostitutes, framed centrally again.  A rather effeminate man stands to the right, almost blending with the women, but his trousers peeking from beneath his coat and his bowler hat reveals his true sex.  He looks demurely down in the direction of the woman in green’s feet while she and her companion stare boldly at us, upsetting traditional viewing gender rules, while calling attention to the viewer’s own participation in the voyeuristic game.

“Two Women in the Street” (1914) distinguishes itself from the rest of the series in several ways. First, it’s a close up, showing only the torsos of the women (who again, dominate the frame). Second, their faces are abstracted and flattened with unnatural striations resembling wood grain in an (uncredited — apparently Kirchner rejected any suggestion that his work was influenced by anything!) homage to the African art that was flooding Europe at that time; Picasso was similarly inspired in the early stages of his career.  Even with this truncated view, the women are unified by their identical postures.  And again, the woman in the tangerine coat wears a hat the color of her companion’s peacock turquoise coat; their matching lemon yellow collars unify them with pose and color.

“Street Scene” (1914) was the final painting in the exhibition.  It too contains the now familiar motif of two women wearing hats matching each others’ outfits (a little hard to make out in this picture, I think): in this instance, the dusty turquoise with royal blue hat paired with her companion’s royal blue coat with turquoise cap.  And again, they stand so close, belly to belly, with one elegant leg apiece stretched out in front, one tucked behind, so that they might even be mistaken for one person.  I don’t have a clear reading on their smirks: do they imply power, or act as protective element?

Duchamp's "Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2"

The men behind them line up so neatly that they resemble a female chorus line, especially with the expertly pointed toes.  This is also an obvious reference to chronophotography, the Victorian precursor to moving film recording as we know it, where photographs were taken in quick succession in an effort to capture a subject’s movements.  These early photos inspired the Futurist art movement and one of my favorite Duchamp paintings, “Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2,” and I can see similarity with Busby Berkley’s large scale musical numbers from the 1930s involving identically (scantily clad) dancers moving in near synchronization so as to give the illusion they are all connected.  Though he is more famous for his dancing girl numbers, there were also large male chorus lines.  As with Kirchner’s street series, Berkley’s dance numbers were highly sexually charged, with scantily clad women opening and closing their arms and legs suggestively; the irony is that Kirchner has once again feminized the men by posturing them thus.

Continuing the sexual theme here are the phallic, creamy pink car wheels in the lower right hand corner that touch the actual bottom– complete with red slit– of an identically colored pink dog.

Lastly, there is a mostly hidden, murky man who I like to imagine is the pimp of these women.  He wears a gray suit as opposed to the chorus mens’ black attire, and his dusty turquoise hat ties him to the women with color, as they are tied to each other.

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I attended the grand re-opening of the Museum of Design (somewhat humorously abbreviated to “MAD Museum”) at it’s new location on Columbus Circle, an event I had been hotly anticipating even before I received an invitation to the party; I love all sorts of crafts, and textile arts are often included under this broad header. To my delight, there were several textile related pieces that drew my notice.

Do Do Suh’s “Metal Jacket” (1992-2001) was a sleek and impressive garment reminiscent of an Asian (perhaps Korean?) coat of armor that was comprised of 3,000 stamped army dogtags. In addition to the lovely craftsmanship, I adore the beautiful irony of dogtags being a necessary body ornament in war, but completely ineffectual as protection: they are the most functional after their wearer has been wounded or killed already.

Susie MacMurray’s “A Mixture of Frailties” (2004) was comprised of hundreds of heavy-duty latex gloves turned inside-out and attached to form a feathered wedding dress of sorts. The gloves’ cleaning function was a clear commentary on the (continued) subservient role of women– especially within marraige): the overwhelming majority of maids and cleaners in the world are women, both professionally and in their personal lives. Now what could the suffocating effect of the rubber and weight of all those gloves be commentary of? (These aren’t my thoughts, people, I’m just interpreting art here!)

Terese Agnew’s “Portrait of a Textile Worker” (2005) was a large (98″ x 100″) wall hanging canvas depicting women in a workshop / sweatshop. Unusual that the workroom appears quite tidy – even austere. It depicts textile workers less like frenzied slaves than as lonely, single-purposed drones. I like how the sewing table in the foreground takes up almost the whole lower half of the piece, as was a common of Japanese woodblock prints, and Impressionist paintings (that borrowed the idea from the Japanese); it effectively gives the illusion that the sewing table is engulfing not only its worker, but the room.

Did I mention that it’s made of 30,000 clothing labels sewn together? Speaking of drones at sewing machines, how many indirectly participated in the creation of this project?

Devorah Sperber’s “After the Mona Lisa” was  5,084 spools of thread strung on metal chains hanging from the ceiling like a beaded door. It was near impossible to see any specific picture in the chunky colored rolls, but when viewed through the small crystal ball set up in front of it, the Mona Lisa– holding a camera pointed at you, the voyeur tourist– popped out at you. Armed with the knowledge of what famous image you’re looking at now, you can revisit the oversized pixels of colored thread and see that the spools actually depict that great lady upside-down, which compounded the difficulty in seeing her in the first place. I like the whole camera obscura low-tech aspect of this project, in addition to the pretty pretty thread.

I’d love to hear of other people’s favorite textile artworks….

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An Iranian model presents the latest Islamic fashion for women at a fashion show

I just read an article about rules being imposed upon models on Iranian catwalks by the Culture and Islamic Guidance Ministry:

“Move modestly. No garish makeup.  Don loose and unrevealing clothing.  Those are some of the new rules for Iranian models, who have been told not to attract too much attention during fashion shows.

Live models “should avoid any behavior that would distract visitors’ attention from the clothes put on display,” according to the eight-part “Guideline For Fashion And Dress Shows.”

Models are not allowed to show off the curves of their bodies, and their hair should not be seen,” the document reads. “The wearing of tight and body-hugging clothes and types of makeup that are incompatible with Islamic and Iranian culture are prohibited.”

Am I wrong, or isn’t the point of models to attract attention?  They are walking display cases of fashionable goods.  It’s revealing (haha) that they don’t ban the entire profession of modeling; instead they systematically ban every part of the job description.  Also, these regulations are written as though they address models, but it is the designers who will have to make the largest adjustments, for it is not the model who decides how short the skirt is or how clingy a garment is.  This is a transparently misguided attempt to stave off dirty Western influence from the unsullied reputations of Iran’s citizens.

A bullet point from the Ministry of Culture’s website:

“Conducting research works on the propaganda campaign of international media and becoming familiar with their techniques and the ways to counter their measures if needed.”

The root problem, as the Iranian government sees it, seems to be the perception that being exposed to– and heaven forbid, adopting– Western visual aesthetics is an assault upon the very foundation of Islam and its people.

In looking up the definition of hijab, I discovered that one of its root meanings is “to shelter,” which manages to sound protective and sweet.  Not so darling are the alternate root definitions of “to cover” and “to screen,” which imply outright censorship.  I find the idea of attempting to govern morality through uniforms– because that is essentially what the hijab is– absolutely laughable.  You may be effectively covering sexual organs, but after all, uniforms are one of the most common fetishes.  Though a primary function of a uniform is to identify a person as a member of a particular group, and often to convey asexual professionalism, the result is more often than not the very opposite of that intention.  Everything from military and firemen uniforms to nun, priest, and Catholic school uniforms are firmly rooted in the fetish world, and have been for (at least) hundreds of years.  This connection is not mere coincidence.  Deny simple activities or pleasures, cloak bodies or processes in mystery, and the mystique surrounding those forbidden objects or activities will increase in direct proportion to the severity of the taboo.

I’m curious to hear other people’s take on this issue, please share!

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Just saw the Susan Meiselas exhibit at the International Center of Photography. Though none of her carnie stripper photos were there, her pictures of the popular insurrection Nicaragua (1978-79) and Kurdistan were stunning, with an eerie unprofessional air about many of them.

Sandinista's Revolution Mask

Susan Meiseles - Kurdistan mass grave with clothes

Susan Meiselas - Kurdistan graves

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I attended a lecture at the Museum at FIT last week.  I’d visited the exhibition “Arbiters of Style: Women at the Forefront of Fashion” a couple months ago and thought it was a little weak (my usual complaint: “not enough signage!”, but I went to the tour believing that if I got more information about the collection, it would be a more fulfilling experience.  I was mistaken.  The clothes displayed are stunning, and our group was informed that many of them have not been exhibited before, but the exhibit itself is lacking a cohesive theme: “Women at the Forefront of Fashion” is simply too damn vague.  It might have been salvaged by wall text that provided information about the role of women in the fashion industry: how it was a natural progression from sewing for the family at home to assisting neighbors with their garments, to designing textiles (usually with no credit).  I’ve read tidbits on the distinction of roles between men and women in the fashion industry, how women were often not credited, how seamstresses were considered mindless, unskilled positions compared to (male) tailors’ supposed talent, etc.  There were actually laws passed in many countries outlining strict guidelines for the fashion jobs men and women were allowed to take on– everything from construction to design to tailoring to embellishment.  It was even pointed out at a panel discussion at FIT last year that the gender issue remains unresolved: that the vast majority of people working in fashion are women, and yet the majority of highly publicized fashion houses are run by men…. None of these tidbits of information were alluded to, much less explored in the exhibit or lecture.

Instead, the focus seemed to be on “modernity,” which was, I suppose, the tie-in to the subtitle “…at the Forefront of Fashion.”  But just as an essay needs a hypothesis, so does an exhibit, unless it is a “works from the collection” type display (which every museum is certainly entitled to).

That being said, I did have a few moments of excitement in the tour. There was an evening dress c. 1840 whose fabric dated to c. 1760.  FIT conservators deduced that the original 18th century garment had been reworked to keep up with later 19th century trends.  Specifically, a pointed waistband had been added, and– most interestingly– the bodice had been turned around to be worn back-to-front, with ruching added to embellish the new au currant neckline.  This ingenious modification enabled the wearer to maintain the fashionable standard of having the clasp in the back, where in earlier years it was the practice to clasp in front.

I’m all about upcycling and repurposing clothes, so this struck me as particularly awesome (I’ve also been known to wear shirts backwards to alter the necklines).  It’s taken an economic recession (fast becoming a depression) to resurrect the retooling of clothes, which have become so disposable in recent decadent decades. In previous centuries, textiles were so precious and the labor that went into the creation of clothes so intensive that it was the rule rather than the exception to re-fit, re-accessorize, and retool them. I hope we return to quality clothes with the expectation that they will survive many years and even multiple owners, taking an example from garments like this dress which was in active wear for a full century. I keep my own wardrobe new by periodically altering existing items– it’s amazing how changing the hemline, adding buttons or decorative zippers, or even turning them backwards breathes new life into them.

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Fashion and Its Social Agendas: Class, Gender, and Identity in Clothing by Diana Crane

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book was so good! Lots of statistics– which as any fashion reader knows is pretty uncommon– of class, social, and monetary indicators, some of which suggested conclusions different from what I’d believed. Well organized chapters in approximate chronological order that concentrated on class struggles, gender discrepancies in spending, wearing, and reading fashion images, etc. It weakened a bit in the last chapter or two as Crane struggled to distill late 20th century fashion complexities, but I’ll forgive her that, the rest was so impressive.

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Style.com listed “Superhero Worship” as one of its major Fall 2008 trends:

“At about the same time that the Met will be putting its superhero paraphernalia back in storage, fashion-forward females will be preparing to unleash their new Fall power ensembles– a futuristic Balenciaga dress, for instance, or a caped jacket from Rick Owens. Pieces like Haider Ackermann’s tough leather jacket or Fendi’s funnel-collared furs command confidence and demand a good pair of heels– perhaps not ideal for leaping tall buildings, but then, Superman’s already got that part covered.”

Though I don’t expend a lot of energy keeping up with current fads, this one was a bit unusual as it seems to be a direct result of a museum’s exhibit; it’s a good (and obvious) reminder that trends pass easily through the art world.  There were a plethora of Picasso exhibits in the early 2000’s (P.S. 1’s “After Matisse and Picasso,” 2003; it’s accompanying exhibit at MoMA “Matisse/Picasso,” 2003; the Whitney’s “Picasso and American Art,” 2006-07; the Met’s “Cezanne to Picasso: Abroise Vollard, Patron of the Avant-Garde,” (2006-07) and it’s telling that the influence in the art world like the Met Museum can throw an exhibit on Superheroes that rocks the movie and fashion world in quick succession.  I noticed Armani Exchange storefronts boasted primary blue T-shirts with their logo written in yellow and red Superman font smeared across it in the months during the Met exhibit, and there were more superhero themed blockbuster movies this summer than I can recall from recent years: The Incredible Hulk, Hellboy II, Iron Man, The Dark Knight, not to mention fringe “superhero” flicks that involve extraordinary feats of strength, endurance, skill, and/or mystical beings like Indiana Jones, Speed Racer, and the Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian.

Bringing it back to the runway, current fashion has also been swept up in the hurricane of superhero inspiration.  Here are some of my favorites:

The following Balenciaga piece from Fall 08 has a feeling of space age chainmail, doesn’t it?  It’s definitely got something of a 16th century male warrior’s feel about it.  I particularly enjoy the latex thigh high fetish stiletto boots and silver parachute cape– fetish gear is pretty standard for superheroines (think Catwoman, Batgirl), though it’s only slightly less practical for the average socialite gallivanting around the standard cocktail parties.  And actually, the thigh-high boots are not terribly dissimilar from the high leather boots (sans platforms and stilettos) worn by men in the 15th century.

Balenciaga - Fall 08

This one too, seems reminiscent of Medieval armor, but pixelated:

Gareth Pugh - Fall 08

This one reminds me a bit of the costumes in 1982’s futuristic Tron.

Louise Golden - Fall 08

The real test of the impact of such an exhibit will be if these fashions will be disseminated and accepted by the masses, i.e. not haute couture clients.  Will any of you be wearing armor and capes in the near future?  I kinda hope so….

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I wanted to share news of what I consider to be a highly worthy cause: the Men’s Wearhouse is holding a National Suit Drive campaign – “dedicated to empowering unemployed men by providing them with professional work attire that will build their self-esteem and make a good first impression during job interviews.”  From September 1 – October 31, people nationwide may donate their gently used suits, sport coats, slacks, dress shirts, ties and belts to help other men re-enter the workforce and take back control of their lives.  MW will gather and distribute clothing to more than 120 local and regional non-profit organizations in cities across the country.

To learn more, visit their site.

When most of us are looking for employment, we dig back in our closets and/or purchase new suit gear which is still the standard conservative, confidence-exuding attire necessary to make a good impression in the corporate and even non-profit worlds.  This is obviously not so easy for people already out of work and/or with limited funds.  Isn’t it a sadly ironic that the we attempt to display ourselves as financially successful when we’re seeking employment (i.e. to get paid)??

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