Advice for Would-Be Vegan Designers, Part 5 September 29, 2009

Today’s lesson is an easy one: all I will ask you to do is read this entry, Netflix a few films and TV shows, and watch them as they arrive. (It couldn’t hurt to take notes and do some sketches while watching, but you hopefully already know this.)

Let’s start with the most important flicks, shall we?

Required Viewing:

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961). You’ve probably seen it already, but watch it again. Hubert de Givenchy very famously made Audrey Hepburn’s party dresses for this film (among others), but PLEASE take note of Patricia Neal’s wardrobe, made by Pauline Trigere. Nobody ever notices Ms. Neal’s gorgeous Trigere ensembles, which is a crime.

Unzipped (1995). This was actually required viewing during my first term as a fashion major, and with good reason. The film is a documentary, following Isaac Mizrahi’s Autumn 1994 collection from concept to the day after the fashion show. Things you will learn while watching this film include: why women don’t wear furry pants, how fussy top models can be, and how nerve-wracking it all really is.

Funny Face (1957). My favorite movie. It’s a 1950s-cute musical providing a glimpse into the world of fashion magazines and haute couture, but the Givenchy clothes are the real draw. The fictional Quality magazine and its staff were inspired by the real-life staff of Harper’s Bazaar, who consulted on the film. Fictional Russian-accented art director Dovitch is a reference to Alexey Brodovitch, fictional photographer Dick Avery was based on Richard Avedon (who took most of the film’s photographs), and fictional editor Maggie Prescott is a very thinly disguised Diana Vreeland (who reportedly was not amused). Ditzy model Marion was even played by real-life model Dovima, who often worked with Avedon. I wish fashion was as exuberant today as it was in this film. (BTW, Maggie Prescott was played by Kay Thompson, author of the Eloise books. An Eloise TV-movie references the “Think Pink” number.) Or, go to the movies and see The September Issue, but I’m telling you now, Funny Face is ten times more fun.

Every Coco Chanel biopic ever made. Coco Avant Chanel is my favorite (and the most recent), but the TV-movie starring Shirley Maclaine does a much better job of showing her financial challenges. Every aspiring designer needs to understand the risks of launching one’s own label, ideally before spending thousands of dollars to do so.

Down With Love (2003). Cute, funny tribute to all those Rock Hudson-Doris Day mid-century pictures, and Renee Zellweger’s ensembles are a dream. Do have a good laugh at those silly “taco” wraps!

Qui êtes vous, Polly Maggoo? (1966). This French art-house masterpiece ostensibly centers on supermodel Polly Maggoo, who is followed by a television crew and engages in daydreams about a handsome prince, but it’s really a snarky satire of the fashion world at the height of the Youthquake. (Every designer needs to understand the Youthquake. Its effects are still visible today.) The title character was played by model Dorothy McGowan, who reportedly never acted or modeled again after the film’s release. For extra credit, try and guess which supporting character was inspired by Diana Vreeland!

Ugly Betty (2006-present). Every season, every episode. The show is set in a fashion-magazine office, not a design house, but there are many, many tidbits worth watching for. Big tip: no matter how thin you are or how stylish someone thinks you are, there will always be people who will treat you the way the nastiest characters treat Betty (if not worse). If you have a thick enough skin to handle putting yourself in Betty’s shoes, you’ll probably survive. (An alternate option is to watch The Devil Wears Prada, but on Ugly Betty the cattiness and fat-phobia are counterbalanced by campy humor. Use your own best judgment.)

Absolutely Fabulous (1992-1996; 2001-2005). Hilarious show about two substance-abusing, trend-obsessed fashion victims. Patsy, the ex-Bond Girl, always looks cool and put-together (unless she’s wasted), but Edina is laughably attired most of the time. (Challenge yourself to design an outfit that would actually flatter Edina – or her frumpy daughter Saffron. Trust me, it takes far more creativity and skill to design for a middle-aged, slightly overweight figure than it does to design for a skinny teenage model.)

Grey Gardens (1975). This documentary focuses upon Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis’ aunt and first cousin…and their dilapidated estate. You need to see this film because every other fashionista has already seen it and you’ll be lost if you don’t. Trust me.

Clueless (1995). Just watch the damn movie if you haven’t already. This modern take on Jane Austen’s Emma is sometimes credited with changing teen fashion from grungy to cute. One of my favorites – and best of all, it stars Alicia Silverstone.

Legally Blonde (2001) and Legally Blonde 2: Red, White, and Blonde (2003). Proof that you can be fashionable AND shockingly intelligent. Not required viewing when I was in school, but it sure as hell should have been.

Recommended Viewing:

Blow-Up (1966). Michelangelo Antonioni directed this tense film about a sleazy fashion photographer’s unintentional involvement with a murder. Features appearances by Veruschka, Jane Birkin, and Vanessa Redgrave. Definitely not my favorite fashion film (the pacing can be maddeningly slow at times), but you can see some decent Carnaby Street duds if you watch closely enough.

Are You Being Served? (1972-1985). Do not get a job in retail without watching this show! I also recommend it to aspiring designers in the hopes that more of them will get over the “oh, let the merchandisers deal with it” mentality. Tacky point-of-sale displays, incorrectly-sewn diamante details, poor-quality material, etc. do bad, bad things for your brand’s sales figures and frustrate not only the people who buy them, but the people who sell them for a living. Please, please, please keep the end of the line (the consumer) in mind when designing.

Auntie Mame (1958). Hilarious, and stylish, film about a free-spirited woman who takes in her orphaned nephew. Mame’s costumes are a riot, and the film is shot far more beautifully than the 1974 version.  (Someday, when my brother settles down with a nice girl, I’m going to send them a copy of this film as a gag gift…and as a warning.)

The Women (1939). This clever film, shot almost entirely in black-and-white, features a fashion-show sequence in full color (costumes by Adrian). Screw the remake; rent this version.

How to Marry a Millionaire (1953). Lauren Bacall, Marilyn Monroe, and Betty Grable play a trio of gold-digging models. Features a decent fashion-show sequence – just remember, the world has changed, and few fashion shows are like that these days. I do not approve of gold-digging, but this one is worth watching just to see Marilyn’s performance and those fab mid-century clothes.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). Please tell me you do not have to ask why you need to see this film.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001). Brilliantly screwed-up little film about a transgendered singer. The film’s costume designer also worked on The Crow. This is another of my favorites.

Next entry: reading lists for aspiring designers.

Diplomacy in Refusal March 9, 2009

As a fourth-generation member of the fashion world, I have an extremely snarky sense of humor.

I laugh hysterically whenever Ugly Betty villainess Wilhelmina mocks or condemns others’ sartorial gaffes (the gladiator sandal scene last week? Pure genius). I own a button that says “Fashion Police” (and occasionally harbor fantasies about issuing citations to people wearing Crocs, Uggs, real fur, and clothes that don’t even come close to fitting properly). When I’m feeling particularly puckish I could probably give the late Mr. Blackwell a run for his money.

However, as I don’t (yet) wield the power of, say, Anna Wintour, I tend to save the snark for after hours. When dealing with potential suppliers, I’m as professional as any store buyer ever gets…even when what they’re selling is absolutely revolting. (Exception: the little snot mentioned in a previous entry who threw a tantrum when I refused to order the sheep-fur boots he was selling, and very nearly had to be removed by the police. Anyone who tries to sell me dead animals does so at the risk of being ticketed for trespassing.)

Here’s where that gets tricky: niche fashion is NOT like mainstream fashion. In mainstream fashion, the right people can say “It’s hideous – put it on a corpse and bury it” to a designer’s face and still maintain their respected status. In niche fashion, selection is often limited, and when you’re aiming for eco-friendly, vegan, AND sweat-free, not only is the selection limited but it’s often unattractive, made from impractical materials, and designed by amateurs with good intentions but very limited know-how.

Here are excerpts from some of the e-mails M. and I, as co-buyers, have sent each other in regard to the worst offenders:

“Ugh, this crap looks like it was made out of Grandma’s old plastic tablecloths.”

“Are these people high?”

“Are you kidding? This stuff looks like a school kid’s art project.”

“Who the hell is going to wear this?!”

“I had a bag like that in the ’70s and it was a bad idea then, too.”

“If all bamboo/organic cotton/hemp apparel is this skimpy and sloppy-looking, the green-fashion movement is is SERIOUS trouble.”

Do you get the idea?

We’ve been open long enough now to know what sorts of things just don’t sell. Some of the stuff that prompted the comments listed might sell in a laid-back market like San Francisco, but would never, ever cut it in Southern California, land of hedonism and (metaphorical) plastic. Our flagship is behind the Orange Curtain, for seitan’s sake! If something looks like it was made by a child, only comes in ugly colors (or worse, ugly patterns), or looks like it was pilfered from the corpse of a dead hippie, no one in this market is going to buy it. Laugh at it, maybe, but I have to carry things that will actually sell.

Which begs the question of what to tell someone who is trying to sell me something that won’t sell in the store.

As a blunt, honest person, I WANT to tell them point-blank why their wares can’t cut it in this style-oriented, perfection-obsessed market. I’d love to sit them all down, show them pictures of our top-selling styles, and ask them to drop us a line when they’re making something in a similar vein. I would readily offer to help them develop products that I could sell all day long. I’d win, they’d win, my customers would win, and everyone would be happy, right?

If only it were that easy.

The fact of the matter is, designers (even the amateurs) are often hypersensitive creatures who do not take criticism well (and I’m allowed to say that because I’m one too). Some niche designers get as pissy, defensive, and illogical as that decrepit gargoyle Karl Lagerfeld whenever he’s defending his obscene use of fur. If more niche designers would at LEAST take a class in line development, the situation would not exist. But they don’t, and so it continues. (I can’t blame anyone for not wanting to go to fashion school or intern with a designer – it’s a LOT of work and can be very, VERY expensive – but when designers don’t know how to create a line that works for its target market – or worse, don’t even know who makes up their target market – it shows. Big time.)

I’d like to help them. Really, I would. But, how exactly does one do that with someone who gets mad and wails “Why not?!” when you politely decline to place an order with them?

I want to give an honest answer so they can get to work creating better products. But, realistically, I know that if I did, I’d just be written off as mean and snobby. I can be a little snobby (there ARE times when it’s appropriate – don’t let someone with no standards and no self-respect tell you otherwise), but I am NOT mean, and should not be described as such when I’m just trying to help.

I am really getting quite tired of relying on “not interested” for a response when constructive criticism would ultimately be more helpful, but what can you do when no one will accept it?

Get Dressed! December 6, 2008

Earlier this year, while picking up an order at Couch Guitar Straps’ headquarters in Signal Hill, Dan and Ilse asked me why I was so dressed up. Was it a special occasion?

I briefly considered my outfit – pink-and-red cherry print cotton dress, pink Lucite fleur-du-lis earrings and matching necklace, red velveteen beret, wine patent-and-cork Neuaura Dippers, shocking-pink Matt & Nat Vicious bag – before nonchalantly replying, “Yes. It’s Tuesday.”

Why doesn’t anyone dress up anymore?

Look at old photographs and paintings from any era up until the late 1960s – for much of human history even those of limited means dressed as well as they could within their budgets. My parents grew up poor, but their shoes were always shined, their hair was always neatly styled, and their clothes were always kept in good repair. While I haven’t often been able to dress as nicely as I’d like (my tap-water budget and unusual figure have severely restricted most of my sartorial options…yes, I know how to sew, but it takes time and gets really tedious after a while), at least I’m trying.

If you’ve never tried dressing up instead of dressing down, now is the time to put your sweatpants aside and try on something dressy. I promise it won’t hurt…and you’ll be amazed at how good you’ll look and feel. When I slip into a pinstriped pencil skirt and heels, I look and feel much better than I ever have in jeans. (If you’re feeling down, dress yourself happy. I’ve done it many times. A great outfit will result in a lot of compliments – unless, of course, you are surrounded by people who hate fashion and style, in which case you can revel in the fact that they are secretly jealous of you.)

A “Cathy” strip published shortly before that day at Couch HQ starts with a saleslady showing Cathy the impeccably tailored silhouette of the season. Cathy points out that everyone else in the mall is still “wearing the  same dumpy t-shirts, sweatpants, and flip-flops” as usual. The saleslady counters with “Why would you want to look out there?” It’s very funny and very true, but it’s still a little depressing.

Everyone deserves to dress up if they want to – so what if casual apparel has gone from weekend wear to everyday wear? I’ve worn vintage gold lame’ gloves to Disneyland on chilly winter mornings (what can I say, they match the buttons on my faux fur coat and it’s rarely cold enough to require the heavy velvet ones). Unusual, yes, but fun and fabulous.

My recent wardrobe upgrades started with, of all things, an obituary. I’ve worn a hat every day since I read about the death of British fashion queen Isabella Blow. While I can’t say I approve of the late Issy’s taste in dead animals (fur…leather…eeeew), she did have incredible style, and was never seen without skyscraper heels, surrealist couture ensembles, and a hat. Halfway through the article, I realized I had a closet shelf full of hats I had barely worn for years – what a waste! A few people have tried (and tried, and tried) to nag me out of wearing my favorite chapeaus (especially the vintage styles) on various occasions, but there comes a point where, if you cherish your personal style, you have to be willing to tell the critics where to get off.

Sure, today I’m wearing a distressed RZST boatneck top with my pencil skirt, heels, and early 1960s velvet hat, but the overall effect is pretty cool. And I’ll continue finding ways to incorporate the crowning jewel of my collection (a 1950s Elsa Schiaparelli beaded number) into as many outfits as possible. When the chips are down, it never hurts to do anything harmless that makes you feel better. Hell, even though I was practically chained to a sewing machine for most of design school and now loathe longer projects, I’m considering making a long jacket out of some white denim I have left over (since non-stretchy white velvet can’t be found anywhere these days). It’s a little impractical and will take forever, sure, but it’ll be striking.

Even fictional characters are agreeing with me these days…”Ugly Betty” villainess Wilhelmina Slater, whom everyone loves to hate, discloses in the current Letter from the Editor on the “Mode” website that dressing down is “not only ugly, it’s depressing.” (Yeah, I mention “Ugly Betty” a lot. Shut up!)

I dare you all to try it for 30 days. Find some nice pieces in your closet, or borrow some from friends, or treat yourself if you can. Now dress up every day for 30 days (you are allowed to dress down if you are at home, at the day spa, etc.) and see how much you like it. See how good it makes you look and feel. See if you don’t get that promotion or a free drink from an attractive acquaintance. See if it really isn’t such a bad thing to spend an extra few minutes on yourself each day.

Style has the power to change the world. Let it change yours.

Curvy Women are People Too September 30, 2008

I’m going to go slightly off-topic today.

If you know me in person or have seen pictures of me somewhere, you know that I am not a twig. I’m curvy. I got back down to a size 6/8 (in pants, anyway – that myth about weight loss reducing one’s bra size is, in my experience, not true) once, but it was from nonstop stress (design school is not for the lazy), not eating enough, and having nonstop food poisoning when I did eat (ah, college cafeterias…). When I’m eating enough to sustain my (busy) activity level, I’m a 12 in dresses and a 10 in jeans. America Ferrera of “Ugly Betty” fame is actually smaller than I am (I base this on having seen the famous butterfly costume at close range – she’s close to a “standard” 8, which I’m sure of because design students learn to drape and make patterns on “standard” size 8 dress forms).

As you can imagine, it really chips my nail varnish when curvy women are slighted based on their size.

Last Saturday my best friend and I went to Pioneertown to see The Donnas (the show was fabulous, of course).

Bassist Maya Ford (aka Donna F) is nowhere near as thin as her bandmates. She’s zaftig enough to make me look almost skinny. Artwork for the band’s first three albums (American Teenage Rock and Roll Machine, Get Skintight, and The Donnas Turn 21) shows all four members, left to right, as equals. Which they are. I’ve been listening to The Donnas since high school and am quite sure the band would fall apart if they suddenly had trouble functioning as a quartet. Then came the band’s big-label debut, Spend the Night. The slumber-party-themed cover showed singer Brett Anderson in a short robe, drummer Torry Castellano in a tank top and long pajama bottoms, guitarist Allison Robertson (widely considered the band’s “hottest” member) posed flirtatiously in something short, slinky, and pink, and Maya in the back, in a frumpy brown checked pajama top. All you can see are her head, shoulders, and ample chest (since it’s okay to have a big chest as long as the rest of you looks rail thin). The implication is that she’s not as important.

Which is garbage, of course. The Donnas would not be the same without her. Maya is the resident bad girl who cracks the funniest jokes, writes many of the band’s sassiest lyrics, and probably parties the hardest (she supposedly made out with two male fans after one show because they were both very cute, and allegedly puts a certain herbal ingredient in her homemade rugelach – for the record, I don’t even drink coffee, but I have to admit the very idea of “special” rugelach is a little funny).

I know she was probably put in the background deliberately because I’ve encountered a few fat-phobic photographers myself. It’s annoying as hell. Given that the average American woman is currently a size 14 and my BMI was actually in the “normal” range when I was heavier, I don’t really qualify as “fat” in the first place.

On one such occasion, a local magazine oriented toward young men hosted a show at the House of Blues. One of my favorite local bands was playing, and my friend’s sister was in the magazine’s recently released calendar, so the three of us went, along with my friend’s then-boyfriend.

Of course, one of the magazine’s photographers had to get a picture of the hot calendar girl and her friends, and professional photographers can be very aggressive about dictating blocking and poses (especially when working for a publication with a narrow concept of beauty). My friend’s sister, a model whose “double feature” is not entirely natural, was front and center, with my friend (who is skinnier but has a smaller bust) pulled off to her right, her very tall boyfriend in the very back, and yours truly awkwardly positioned left and back. In the final picture, I could be seen only from the shoulders up and in shadow.

Honestly, this was insulting enough (especially since none of them would have even gone to the show if I hadn’t suggested it). What ticked me off a lot more was being photographed for some of the store’s early press coverage.

I’m well aware of the fact that fashion-oriented publications put the sticks front and center. As Alexis Meade snappily (and accurately) put it on “Ugly Betty” last season, “Models are hangers! Designers don’t want to see their clothes on fat hangers!” But I am NOT a professional model, and I should NOT be expected to resemble some toothpick from a Chanel ad.

Most of the people who have interviewed me have been perfectly professional. But when the time comes for pictures, they typically play around with different angles, trying to hide my non-arexic frame. Usually I’m photographed from the chest up. One magazine that has featured my flagship store does occasionally print pictures of store owners – IF they resemble the skinny models used in their fashion spreads. My semi-famous vegan Doc Martens were good enough to merit a photo, but I apparently wasn’t (the accompanying article was also full of mistakes and misquotes, but that’s another subject for another rant).

One glossy publication did show me in profile – in a fitted top that was hanging a bit loose at the time because I’d recently had my wisdom teeth removed and lost a few more pounds due to not being able to eat anything solid. Even then, they positioned me VERY carefully so my pelvis wouldn’t look wide. (My best friend is a gifted amateur photographer, so I know about little tricks like this.)

Am I hideous? Offhand, I’d say no. I’ve rejected marriage proposals. I’ve done some amateur modeling at friends’ requests (and, in a pinch, for my own ads). I was even offered a co-starring role in an independent film once (which I turned down because I have a business to run). My measurements do not make me ugly. Nor do they make me less of a person or preclude my ability to be as stylish as I want to be. Just as nobody should have to sacrifice style for ethics, nobody should be made to feel inadequate because they aren’t rail thin.

Some of the most powerful people who have worked in fashion are or were not beautiful. Diana Vreeland, for example, was pin thin (at a time when *some* curvature was preferred), had small eyes and a big nose, and had such oddly-shaped feet that all of her shoes had to be custom made. But, she knew how to make herself look interesting and is still widely respected as a style icon. How someone looks only matters when society allows it to matter. (Which isn’t to say that we shouldn’t groom ourselves and try to dress somewhat nicely. We can’t control our bone structure unless we resort to plastic surgery, but we can and should brush our teeth and polish our shoes.)

I am a fashionably curvy vegan. And there’s nothing wrong with that.