Bill Cunningham, Fashion Monk

Happy New Year, readers! I'm settled back in New York after a lovely vacation, and last night Jeff and I watched Bill Cunningham New York (yay, Netflix streaming!). I was truly blown away by it; it is certainly the most inspiring fashion documentary I've seen.

It follows a period in the life of 80+-year-old Bill Cunningham, style photographer for The New York Times. His two columns, "On the Street" and "Evening Hours", portray a vast array of New York fashion, from street to society.

But the most intriguing thing is his personal life. As I said to Jeff last night, he's sort of like a fashion monk. He was one of the last hold-outs to live in the Carnegie Hall artist studios, and believes in simple living to the point of asceticism. He works constantly, roaming the streets on a bicycle--wearing the same thing every day, eating the same meals. His tiny studio has no kitchen, and he sleeps on a wooden platform surrounded by filing cabinets that hold negatives of every picture he's ever taken. He's never had a romantic relationship, and goes to church every Sunday.

And his work philosophy is certainly admirable: he's inspired by the way real people wear clothes on the street and in life. His approach to fashion photography is very kind-spirited and never mocks his subjects. One of his first jobs was at Women's Wear Daily, but he quit after an editor changed his copy to make fun of the women he photographed.

Have you seen this film? If not, do! I think DIY types will especially appreciate his down-to-earth take on fashion. It's a great reminder of why we do what we do. As Bill quoted tearfully in an award acceptance speech: "He who seeks beauty shall find it." (Just try not to get choked up when he says it!)


Bill Cunningham New York Trailer from Gavin McWait on Vimeo.

When a Genius Turns Out to Be a Jerk

Sooo . . . how about that Galliano stuff? In case you've been living blissfully under a rock, you probably know that he was fired from Dior after spewing awful anti-Semitic, misogynistic stuff.

At first I just hoped it wasn't true. After all, in this post I called him a genius. And one of my favorite sewing writers calls him "a god." Sadly, it seems he's all too human. And a pretty despicable human, at that. Galliano has since gone off to rehab (I guess that cures you of being a terrible person now?) but denies the accusations against him . . . even though they were caught on video.

It's been interesting to watch the public reaction to all this. Celebrities can take a stand by boycotting Galliano gowns for red carpet events. But what about the average fashion-loving fan? We haven't lost the opportunity to wear couture gowns, but something intangible instead: the inspiration that Galliano's amazing designs provided, which are now pretty much tainted forever, at least in my mind.

Of course, we can try to make the distinction between the artist's views and the art itself. After all, the designs themselves were not anti-Semitic or sexist. But I think all too often talented men get a free pass when it comes to their personal lives and views (think of Roman Polanski or Charlie Sheen, though I hesitate to call the latter talented). The best we can do is condemn him and move on, I suppose. (Rather than, say, giving him a line of t-shirts with his awful soundbites.)

The most fitting farewell was the one given, I think: at the last show, after Galliano's dismissal, all the house's seamstresses and tailors were brought out to take a bow in place of Galliano himself. After all, the many shows he put on were not only his accomplishment to claim. I'm going to console myself by thinking of these women and men and all the hard work they put into their craft.

What do you think? Can you separate the man from the art?

New York Times Discovers Existence of Repro Vintage

Repro Dress from Stop Staring!

Peter sent me this fascinating article yesterday, with strict orders that I must blog about it. Your wish is my command, captain!

"This Old Thing? Actually, It's New" takes a look a various women who love retro style but tend to wear more current reproduction pieces rather than vintage. This revelation comes as no surprise to me, since I'm a retro-lover who's only owned a few pieces of true vintage clothing. Before I started sewing my clothes, I would rely on retro-fied styles at chains like Anthropologie and Banana Republic to fake a vintage look, along with a healthy topping of actual vintage costume jewelry. Why? One word: fit. Vintage clothes are generally tiny enough that it makes the shopping experience frustrating rather than enjoyable to me. The NYT article acknowledges this challenge as a reason to seek out repro pieces, as well as several others: musty smells, weird holes and stains, and other "charms" of vintage clothing. (Sadly, it doesn't make the leap that some women may choose to sew their own vintage styles as an alternative.)

On the other side of the coin, the article looks at the vintage snob: she who turns her nose up at reproduction clothing. ("Some purists sniff, if not sneer, at the trend.") I think anyone who loves retro is surely familiar with this particular brand of pretension.

But what really interested me was the tone of the piece. The writer sets up repro vintage as a current trend, while interviewing the proprietress of Stop Staring!, who's been selling it for 13 years. They also interview a woman who asks if vintage call really be a trend, since the point is to look timeless. (I'm sure we could go around and around in circles on that discussion!)

The article also briefly dips into the territory of gender relations and retro clothing (which I've discussed here as well):

Ms. von Firley’s hair is cut in a 1920s style Dutch bob, and she is rarely seen in an outfit that isn’t vintage or reproduction vintage. “Men treat me differently when I wear vintage or something that looks vintage,” she said. “I’ve noticed that they open doors and even apologize when they swear, which is so not the case when I’m wearing regular clothes like pants and a sweater.”

Others who wear reproduction fashions said they had similarly enjoyed increased chivalry.

Overall, the article is a bit all over the place, as it frenetically tries to decide whether it's a trend piece or a bit of social commentary. Perhaps a more telling slant would have been what, if any, changes are made in the reproduction process. Are the pieces inspired by actual vintage finds? I find it fascinating that repro vintage can start to take on a look of its own, one that's pure mash-up rather than true homage.

Anyway, it's quite an interesting topic to retro-loving seamstresses, I think. After all, we specialize in reproduction! I'm sure some of us would qualify as purists (those who use vintage everything, right down to their notions), while others of us (myself included) make use of vintage patterns, but are more about using contemporary materials to get a retro look.

What is your take on vintage reproduction: old news or a timely trend? Do you consider yourself a purist or a reproducer? Or perhaps something else all together?

Would You Pay $348 for this Dress?

Because I almost did. Seriously, I was SO close to buying this little Nanette Lepore number. I think I about lost my mind, readers. You see, I went on a lunchtime expedition to Lord & Taylor with a coworker who needed to return some shoes there. Of course, I had to take a swing by the designer dresses and try a couple on "for research."

I get that this black ponte knit sheath probably doesn't look like anything to get too crazy about. I do get that. But I put it on, and it was like THE MAGIC DRESS. I was quite sure that I looked absolutely sensational in it—it framed my tattoos perfectly, my figure looked smashing. Don't even get me started on how great my butt looked.

I can't remember the last time I bought a dress, but I really talked myself into this one, even at the steep price. It's the kind of thing I'd wear to work all the time.

The only problem was that it had a tiny little flaw: the twist tie that goes around the waist had become un-tacked on one side and was flopping around. The easiest thing in the world to fix, right? But for $348, I wanted a flawless one.

I told my issue to the sales person. She didn't have another size 10, sorry. At that point my friend cheekily piped up that I might be offered a discount on the flawed one, which the sales girl declined to do. My only option was to pay full price for the one they had, apparently. Readers, I was NOT going to be making any repairs to a $348 dress before I even wore it. It was the principle of the thing. I'm sure you understand.

Well, I left it, thinking I would find it elsewhere online. But by the time I got back to the office, the magic of the MAGIC DRESS had worn off. Was I really about to pay that kind of money for a doubleknit sheath dress? Granted, it had incredible butt-flattering properties and a few special design features (pleated cap sleaves, a wide waistband, a surplice pleated sweetheart neckline, and the aforementioned waist wrap) . . . but nothing I absolutely couldn't try to replicate, I suppose. So instead of ordering the dress, I ordered three yards of black doubleknit. When I'm going to find time to sew with it, I'm not sure.

Damn, it's hard being principled sometimes.

Please tell me you understand, readers. That a certain magical item of clothing has you so entranced that $348 seems like an absolutely reasonable price for a simple work dress. Anyone?

Has Mad Men Really Changed the Way We Dress?

Isn't it interesting how Mad Men has become synonymous with retro fashion? Anything from sheath dresses to skinny ties to regular old pencil skirts are now described as having "Mad Men style." I'm a huge fan of the show, and the fashion is undeniably one of the main attractions. It's given us a language for clothes, in a way. I look at vintage sewing patterns (or even things on ModCloth) now and think, "Oh, that's totally a Joan dress" or "Peggy would so wear that." And the show has definitely put early 60s fashion—which can become a gray area between poodle skirts and love beads in the cultural lexicon—on the map.

But perhaps the descriptor has become a little broad. I've seen patterns from the 40s marketed as "Mad Men style" (huh?) and chain stores like Banana Republic have gotten in on the action to push what looked like pretty straightforward business casual to me.

Banana Republic window display

And it's not as though retro was not a trend before four years ago. But there is something undeniable about the way the show has touched a sartorial nerve. Perhaps the stage had been set—after all, companies like Stop Staring had been making reproduction wiggle dresses long before a certain curvaceous redhead graced our screens. Is it possible that Mad Men came along at the perfect time in the zeitgeist and helped us put a name to something that was already building? Or do we really dress differently because of Mad Men? Perhaps a little of both. One thing is for sure: we can probably never  look at a red wiggle dress the same way again.

What do you think? Has Mad Men changed the way you dress?

Do You Follow Fashion Week?

From Monique Lhullier's Spring 2011 show

So, it's Fashion Week here in New York. The interesting thing about Fashion Week is that it's pretty easy to ignore, don't you think? If Jezebel didn't cover all the shows (see their recaps here), I think I might miss it entirely—especially now that they've moved it up to Lincoln Center and there's no chance of me running into all hubbub on my lunch break.

I was thinking about the degree to which Fashion (with a capital F) inspires different sewists. Some of us keep track of every collection and knock off designer garments at home with our own special flair. Others of us see sewing as a way to happily ignore the fashion industry entirely. I think I probably fall somewhere in the middle: a casual observer. I did, however, spend a little time catching up on the shows from this week, and there is something oddly soothing about clicking through the runway looks online. (Especially if you look on the Style.com iPhone app. It's incredibly mesmerizing to make the pictures go by with the swipe of a finger: Flip. Flip. Flip.) Here are a few favorites:

Betsey Johnson does 40s nautical

A 50s-inspired shelf bust dress with irreverent paint splatters at Betsey Johnson

Nanette Lepore's perfect retro resort look

I love the side pleats on the skirt of this airy Monique Lhullier dress

Hollywood glam from Monique Lhullier

I love the sculptural laciness of this Marchesa gown

So, what's your relationship to Fashion Week, as a sewist? Do you follow it? Or remain blissfully ignorant?

News Flash: Models Are Thin (A Night at Thakoon)

So, as I mentioned yesterday, Jeff and I went to the Thakoon show at Fashion Week last night. This was the first event like this I've ever been to and my first impressions were: Wow, what a weird thing this is. The people, the ritual of it, the clothes, the models. We got there early and were lucky enough to get a little backstage tour. It was complete madness. I mean really: madness. People and things everywhere. It was kind of like a Bosch painting, except everyone was doing hair and pinning clothes rather than killing each other.

We had a standing room spot RIGHT at the end of the runway. Killer. The soundtrack started as a reverberating, thumping heartbeat (very "Tell-Tale Heart") and then morphed into a lovely, somber instrumental. The models started to walk down the runway. The clothes were gray, drab, and often furry. Their expressions were strained or bored. And their bodies?

Okay, I know I shouldn't have been surprised at their thinness. But believe me when I say that they looked a good 20 pounds thinner than they do in the photographs. Seeing it in person, only several feet away from me, was disturbing to a degree I couldn't really comprehend. Paired with the somber music, monastic ambiance, and drab clothing, it was truly like watching starved inmates march to their deaths. I was viscerally horrified as I witnessed spindly, fragile arms and legs, baggy pants seats, pinched faces, and protruding ribs.

It was admittedly hard for me to focus on the clothes. But of what I took in, it definitely wasn't my cup of tea. (And I don't think it will be Michelle Obama's cup of tea either, so I'll be surprised if we see her making use of this collection.) There was lots of fur, weird gray sweatpants, and fluffy hotpants made of what looked like twisted tulle. The few dresses I liked were definitely the most wearable, like this wonderful little number with pompom trim (a detail Style.com has already deemed as too "cutesy").

I also liked this LBD with ivory trim.

The one piece I could totally see Ms. Obama in? This printed, drapey number.

I'm not sure what had to die to make this coat, but it's scary.

Fluffy tulle hotpants!

I've been looking over the other recent shows at Style.com, and gray and serious seems to be the theme of the season. I have to say, I felt wildly unsophisticated in my tastes. I like pretty dresses in pretty colors. There was certainly none of that. As for what I wore? I went with the black and white polka dot dress, but never ended up taking off my coat. Good thing it's red and fabulous! I definitely stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd. If you're interested in what the fashion types are wearing right now, it's this: Gray cape-like coats, tiny skirts, black leggings and sky-high black ankle boots. It painted a very militaristic, somber picture. And there I was in my huge fire-engine red coat, with a large, sparkly strawberry brooch pinned on the lapel. Oy.

So all in all? I'm glad I experienced this. But I'm surprised to feel so much more disturbed by the fashion industry today. As my post title suggests, none of this is exactly a news flash. But it was still unsettling. Oh, and celebrity sightings? Anna Wintour was there and I believe I caught the back of her shiny little bob as she was rushed out at the end of the show. But I did get a very good glimpse of Grace Coddington, the Vogue editor who stole the show in the documentary The September Issue.

All in all, I was happy to get back to Queens where people don't all dress alike and wear scary shoes. Also, after the show I had an intense comfort food craving so Jeff rushed me off to our favorite burger joint. Ah, back in the real world!

If you'd like to see the whole show, click here.