Category Archives: fashion musings

Wrapped

“The window and the door of the body is the face, this seduction to the interior.  We all have the same organs. Men resemble each other. Women also resemble each other. The SPIRIT and the THOUGHTS are different. Each person is WRAPPED, like a gift, awaiting the day we unwrap it and find what’s inside. Clothing is a wrapping of the body, the DIVINE GIFT, the gift of nature”

Kandioura

The Dream Energy of Society


This week I have drawn the connection between fashion and its ‘magical’ potential.  Magic has traditionally had connotations of witches (both good and evil), bearded wizards and in the most contemporary sense, Mr. Harry Potter. If I were to say that forms of dress had the power to influence the course of events through ‘mysterious’ means, that would surely infer that by wearing our lucky pair of jeans, sneakers or say, silver glittery and crystal Miu Miu brogues, our clothing has the animate power to change the future.  Instead, for me, what is more poignant is the fact that the relationship fashion has to our psyche goes beyond what colours we like or shapes we deem physically flattering on our body.

The memories and associations stored in the folds of our clothes have the potential to unlock our deepest desires, unleash new energy and reignite prior glory (be it the feeling of youth or the skinny jeans you wore one night when you were feeling particularly sexy).  I think that this is something I subconsciously I think about when I go shopping and fall in love with something, whether it is the scent of a perfume or the cut of a coat.  Yes, the purchase and exchange of money inevitably implicates one in the process and allure of consumerism, but what it ultimately means to me, beyond the possession of a status symbol, are the possibilities embodied by the object.  The potential to change my mood, communicate parts of my identity and eventually connect me to past memories and emotions with its eventual use.

Elizabeth Wilson, one of the pioneers of the field of fashion studies, draws attention to the constant discussion of fashion in society as trivial, frivolous and ultimately an expression of society’s consumerist ideals. BUT, as Wilson beautifully phrases, “over time our clothes accrue to themselves the residues of use and memory, residues of desire, of hope and occasion”, highlighting the ways in which fashion is not merely a function of protecting our bodies or being manipulated by marketing and social media ploys.  Rather, it can be considered ‘the dream energy of society’, a most accessible means with which to explore and affect our mood, self-perception and fantasies for the future.

So the next time you reach to throw on that ‘go-to’ T-shirt you wear every third (if not second…) day, consider whether it is purely for convenience and routine…or perhaps whether this garment has taken on ‘magical’ properties beyond its base function, providing feelings of control, of comfort, a connection to the past and vehicle for the future…

x becca

A Taste Dictatorship

Courtesy of Fashion Gone Rogue: Valerie van der Graaf & Johanna Fosselius by Jeff Hahn for Tatler Hong Kong 2012

Imagine our head of state (be it Julia Gillard – *ugh* – or even Barack Obama) dictating state policies toward grooming, or better yet, how to be fashionable. Actually, not even how to ‘be’ fashionable, but what is expected, or even allowed to be worn in public.  Unbelievable, right? NO! For me, fashion is one of the foremost ways in which I express who I am. Not only elements of my identity, but perhaps how I am feeling on any given day. Fluro oversized sweatshirt with leather jacket? gangsta day. Colourful printed kaftan with layered strands of beads? bohemian/hawaii themed day (aka…I seriously need a holi-day).  Before reading Djurdja Bartlett’s book ‘The Spectre that Haunted Socialism”, I would have wholeheartedly agreed that attempting to control rituals of dress by a political state (without being driven by religious motivations) would have been impossible.  Yet, this is exactly what Stalin, and other socialist governments, tried to achieve by creating an unchanging style of dress from the 1930s, deemed socialist fashion.

A ‘House of Prototypes’ was developed, that, just like the ‘House of McQueen’ (or now, House of Gaga), produced fashion designs for a specific audience. However, unlike the fashion houses of today, this socialist fashion house created design prototypes for the entire population of the Soviet Union.  Despite being an unrealistic and unsuccessful venture, fashion moved beyond being an aesthetic, pleasurable act, to a means of uniting a country’s visual identity and political regime by creating rules of ‘good taste’.  Obviously this could not last as fashion is intrinsically tied up with the ephemeral, and being modest, restrained and ‘appropriate’ all the time is totally boring.  However, the fact that from the 1930s at least up until the 1980s (equaling 50 years for those who are math averse) fashion in the Soviet Union was led by a lack of information/inspiration from the West, the promotion of conventional aesthetics and limited access to materials was very surprising to me.

Part of me thinks that this whole idea of competing with the West by institutionalizing rules of dress through state run magazines is amazing and hilarious.  In particular, I am obsessed by a quote from a ‘cultural agent’ of the state during the 1960s named Zuzi Jelinek, who seeked to ban the production of “ugly orange coloured” fabrics. She incredibly argued that “customers would be forced to choose a nice beige color and would slowly get used to it…and redefine their taste so they themselves would be shocked by the idea that they could have previously worn something so ugly”. That is so cool. Now, if only Barack Obama would legally ban the wearing of UGG boots outside the boundaries of one’s apartment/house.

x becca

Fashion Beyond the Grave

Currently hanging off from the pull-up bar above my bedroom door (a relic from the athletic tenant who previously rented my apartment) waiting to be box-framed is this exquisite hand-made blouse. Since receiving it as a gift last Christmas by a great friend of mine here in New York, I have been obsessed. Despite being an objectively flawless example of hand beading, embroidery and how sequins do NOT need to (only) be classified as gaudy and disco-esque, it is its past life that has totally seduced me.  How can an inanimate object like a piece of clothing have its value indelibly heightened after being possessed by someone of, perhaps often ‘perceived’, importance in its prior lifetime?

The renowned, if not infamous, New York socialite Brooke Astor is named to be the previous owner of this garment, purchased by my friend for me at famous vintage market housed in an old parking garage in Manhattan. Having married the heir Vincent Astor, who inherited 200 million dollars following the death of his father during the sinking of the Titanic, Brooke’s story is fettered with death, divorce, an array of love affairs well into her 80s and a style that his been described as embodying what it would be to be the ‘Queen of New York City’.

For me, there is something wonderful about the fact that a love and eye for fashion defies age, reason or rational thinking.  Despite developing Alzheimer’s and living until the age of 105, Brook continued to dress as glamorously as if she was still in her 20’s, with pearls, sequins, feathers and embroidery embodying her style. Without a sewn-on label, I am guessing this design to be by the American Couturier Arnold Scaasi of whom Brooke was a personal ‘made-to-measure’ client. He was defined by his opulent and highly adorned aesthetic.

Now, when I look at the glowing, bewitching, sequined design of Brooke’s blouse, I don’t just see a piece of clothing. Instead, I imagine myself possessing, or maybe being possessed ‘by’ (like a ghost of fashions past…), Brooke’s generosity, tenacity and vivacious sense of style. It has been said that at one point in her 90’s, Brooke was found wandering around the luxury department store Bergdorf Goodman’s. Dazed and confused, she supposedly had no idea where she was. I don’t think you could find a more inspiring way to get lost in the city. Drawn to the soul of New York highest forms of couture fashions, not knowing where you are but where you wanted to be, and perhaps wearing the sheer pink blouse with pastel floral beading and embroidery now in my possession.

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