GUCCI: Plaid + Plaid = Punk?

The most recent issue of W magazine features a mini-mag, one of those annoying 50-page affairs that requires you to flip the magazine over to read it. It mostly focuses on a fawning interview with Keira Knightley and James McAvoy (fine, fine, they were absurdly hot in Atonement, got it), and seems to contain exclusively ads for the new Gucci Spring '08 collection. The photos are, in my opinion, really strikingly gorgeous (well shot, Inez & Vinoodh). And the clothes...ooh! Normally I don't love the Gucci hypersnob aesthetic; this is a new direction for them, and I heartily approve.

What's interesting is how sharp and rock-and-roll these looks are, considering the ultra-traditional preppy prints and styles that they're made from. Exaggerated glen plaid is tailored into skinny cropped trousers and combined with a high-necked blouse in an exaggerated box plaid...and somehow, with an intimidating tight leather jacket and an impeccably styled badass model, the entire thing looks impossibly edgy.

Again, a ridiculously preppy ensemble--pink knee-length straight skirt and coordinating colorblocked shell--looks anything but stodgy with its sharp leather accessories. I love handy visual contradictions, and this tickles me. If only I'd had a python biker jacket to pair with my J. Crew sweaters in high school, maybe the bad boys would've asked me to the prom.

Design Room Zen

So after my first day back at work, I was going to write a whole post about the zen art of papercutting. I've switched to a new department after there wasn't an opportunity to advance in my old department, and now I'm in a very assistant-ish role...which, my first day, involved scads of slicing apart xeroxed photos of all the line's runway looks, sliding them into plastic display sleeves, and pasting the sleeves onto numbered garment bags for each look. The design team is headed to NYC to prep for New York Fashion Week, which starts a week from today, so, glamorous or no, they needed all sorts of petty little things done. Sewing on last-minute buttons, typing and re-typing packing lists, organizing said "looks" and getting them packed and ready to go, lining up seamstresses in New York to help with final-second fittings and alterations...and that's just the start. I wasn't too peeved at having to crouch on the ground for hours labeling garment bags--even though their plastic smells intensely of chemicals and may well explain the out-of-it-ness of certain long-term designers--because everyone was stepping in to do these nasty but essential jobs. If I didn't label the looks, they'd get all mixed up on the racks and the models could get sent out on the runway wearing the wrong skirt and the wrong tights in the wrong order! (IMAGINE the consequences.) And what I noticed was how unbothered I was by having to stand over the papercutter (which took, by the way, at least 15 minutes to find. Who knew there were like 6 different "Graphics Rooms"?) for ages, slicing apart precious pictures of my employer's new offerings for Fall 2008. It was actually really calming; a friend of mine admitted that she happily does the dishes for the same reason.

The next day, though, is why this post surpasses its original intent. That was the day I discovered the zen art of rolling ribbons. There was an enormous box heaped with miles of ribbon, all of which needed to be separated and neatly rolled up for the designers' convenience in New York. It was a little harder to stay zen with the ache in my shoulder from winding ribbon and the frustration at untangling knots bigger than my head. Still, I thought, not the worst thing ever. I had some rought things I needed to think about and this was a good solo activity. Soon, I'm sure, I'll be scurrying around doing design room duties and will wish for peaceful ribbon-rolling.

Little did I know that today I'd be introduced to the zen art of...tracing enormous fabric prints onto dot paper! Standing over a drafting table with my eye about one inch from the paper, transferring every tiny spot of color from the original onto the new paper so the textile designer could redo the color scheme. It took forever.
"This is going to really help her," I thought while grinding my teeth. "She's really busy and wouldn't be able to do the new colors otherwise," I reasoned while wiping a drop of sweat from my forehead before it violated the tracing. "This sucks, but you have to pay your dues, right? Maybe this will make a funny story! There must be some good side to dislocating my neck while doing a task that probably would be done better by a photocopier! I AM LEARNING! KARMA WILL REWARD ME IN THE END! ZEN! ZEN!"

When I brought the tracing back to the designer, she eyed it and said, "Mmm...ok. That's fine. That will do." I almost pulled my hair out. Or hers. Perhaps I should return to papercutting.

Why Fashion is Fascinating

When I decided to go to fashion school after I graduated with a degree in sociology, some people were confused. "Isn't that kind of...unrelated?" they'd ask, and I imagine they were silently adding, "...and kind of a step down?" They wondered why on earth, after proving that I had brains and could Contemplate Issues of Social Science, I would want to throw it all away on the frivolous, anti-academic ditz-land of fashion.

Simple! None of the above is true. Fashion is pretty obviously related to sociology--the study of how we behave as societies--and is a part of everyone's life, even those highbrow scholars who think that caring about clothes is for the weak. WRONG! We all wear clothes, every day, don't we? And even the most clueless make decisions about what they wear--decisions that have definite meaning and importance.

Fashion is the only way of telling people what we like, what we do, who we're friends with, what "scene" we're in, and often how much money we make--in short, who we are, or perhaps who we want to be--without saying a word. No introduction necessary (and no laborious hours of get-to-know-you small talk, nor wasting of far too much money on drinks). The fashion choices made by those who claim to be anti-fashion are just as revealing as the fashionistas' outfits parading down Rodeo Drive.
So we can see that fashion is anything but entirely shallow and frivolous (we're not saying it isn't somewhat, though...!). It is an essential tool for expressing yourself. Madonna says we've gotta express ourselves, so it must be true.

Whether we like it or not, fashion speaks volumes, and it has its own languages and dialects. Linguists study the rise and fall of trends in speech patterns, the changes language goes through depending on region, the social and psychological implications of how people speak...and even the just-plain-hilarious aspects of language and slang. Same with fashion. It's fascinating, revealing, ridiculous, totally necessary...and utterly absorbing to fashion sociology wonks like me. Since my friends and loved ones can only tolerate so much of my ranting about trends in jean leg width or the relative attributes of various brands' marketing campaigns...what better place to let it all out than the trusty ol' internet?

What's hot, not, in, out and why...what makes me stop and gawk on L.A. sidewalks...what runways and reality have to do with each other, if anything...notes from me and people all over about what style means on a daily basis.... Our material world deserves some more respect and also criticism, & that's where I come in. I'm your, well, Material Girl and this is A Material World. I live in it, you live in it, we each make up a little part of it, and we all see it a little differently...and therein lie the beauty and the horror.

*Endless thanks to Madonna, who summed it all up so well that the best I can do is quote her. "Material Girl," like, totally has a social message...and as they used to say on American Bandstand, "it's got a good beat and you can dance to it!"