May 7, 2012 |
Fashion, it must be said, loves a reference. A smattering of 1960s no-wave Japanese futurism here, a light spritzing of early-teenies post-goth witch house there. Nothing, after all, shows that a collection has been Made By Cultured Individuals, that it has Integrity, Authenticity and An Easily Grasped Visual Aesthetic That Is Entirely Different to Last Season’s Edie-Sedgwick-Meets-Sexy-Victorian-Librarian Collection, like a good reference. And nothing, it seems, beats a good film reference in particular.
But perhaps – just perhaps – the situation is getting a tad silly. Perhaps – whisper it – the current use of film references in fashion is getting a tad “done”, just a little bit – gasp! – lazy. There are, after all, only so many collections that can reference Belle de Jour (Belle de Snore – ha ha ha), aren’t there? AREN’T THERE? This got us thinking, in a very deep and meaningful way, about the connection between cinema and style. Between the deeply liminal space that exists between the catwalk and the silver screen. Or whatever. Here then, in no apparent order and to no apparent purpose, is a list of 10 things that film has taught us about fashion…
1. Rodeo Drive Gives Good Shopping Bag
We have never been to Rodeo Drive. Indeed we couldn’t even tell you where Rodeo Drive actually is (somewhere in LA, duh). But we do – thanks to the wonders of mid-1980s to early-1990s celluloid – know that Rodeo Drive Has Impossibly Glamorous Shopping Bags. And thus, by extension, is The Undisputed Centre of the Fashion Industry. From Pretty Woman to Clueless to basically every film made in Hollywood circa 1989, there’s always that scene where the heroine embarks on a spot of “retail therapy” (is that even a phrase any more?). Cue the Playful Changing Room Montage in which the heroine tries on an increasingly wacky selection of outfits – so wacky! – before landing on The One. This is inevitably followed by the scene where said heroine swishes down Rodeo Drive carrying a multitude of shopping bags. A multitude! Made of cardboard! And with ribbon-y handles! Imagine! Growing up in suburban England in the mid-1980s, the concept of a shopping bag that wasn’t made from low-density polyethylene and didn’t bear the logo of a popular supermarket chain was – and to some degree, still is – to us, frankly baffling. And enormously exciting. And perhaps a little arousing. Leading this writer to forever believe that the only Genuinely Happy, Fulfilled and Successful People in This World are the ones you see tripping down streets with an SW-based postcode carrying multiple paper- and ribbon-based bags. Verily, readers, this is when you know you have Truly Made It.
2. Fashion Designers Have Only Really Seen About Seven Films
Well, how else to explain the fact that the same filmic references crop up every single season? To wit (and with a concise academic decoding of each reference): Annie Hall (“This collection is kind of drippy”), Love Story (“This collection is really drippy”), Bonnie and Clyde (“This collection has berets”), The Great Gatsby (“This collection has skullcaps”), Blade Runner (“This collection is full of cyber-whatnot”), Belle de Jour (“zzzzzzzz”), Days of Heaven (“This collection has models with plaited hair”). Of course, there are some references that are welcome for repeat visits – we’re always fond of a spot of Wednesday Addams and Rosemary’s Baby-era Mia Farrow, for instance – but isn’t it time that the rest were put to bed for a while? To this end, we politely propose a moratorium (editor: is that even a word?) on these references, at least for a few seasons. Any designer who is creatively stumped without the use of berets, cyber-whatnot or plaited hair is then free to call us up and will be assigned an Entirely Random Film Reference to work with. After all, who doesn’t want to see Roberto Cavalli paying homage to… *randomly flicks through copy of Time Out’s Film Guide 2003*… Jean-Marie Straub’s 1965 Brechtian classic Nicht Versöhnt (“Fifty years of German social and political history. Difficult in ways that few films are but necessarily difficult”). And who could resist Raf Simons’ idiosyncratic take on… 2003’s Lizzie McGuire (“The film’s chasteness, unashamed lack of inflection and two-finger-salute street cred may disappoint older teenagers”). How amazing-ish would that be? No?
3. Some Film References Should Be Left Well Alone
The reasons for this are, precisely, three-fold. One: because some film references are just rather shit (Pocahontas, anyone?). Two: because some films are Too Amazing and Too Serious and Too Important to be reduced down to a series of glib visual tics and would lead to the directors of said films turning in their non-metaphorical graves (ref: films by Pasolini, Fassbinder and pretty much anything Mark Cousins mentions in that Film4 thing). Three: because some references have already been so wonderfully realised, so fully owned, that it makes any future use of them wholly redundant (and here, thanks to McQueen, we’re officially putting Hitchcock’s entire oeuvre off limits).
4. Some Films Make Better Reference Points Than Actual Films.
You’ve seen the film, now buy the T-shirt. Except the film was crap, so just buy the T-shirt instead (ref: Tank Girl, some other stuff).
5. Mohair Is Sexy
While some references should be outright banned (BANNED, WE SAY!), we do acknowledge that cinema sometimes has an incredibly knack for showing us things about fashion that otherwise we never would have spotted. Like the fact that mohair (ref: Nastassja Kinski, Paris, Texas; Johnny Depp, Ed Wood) is really rather kinky. Or that Sienna Miller (ref: every cover of American Vogue circa 2007)… is not a very good actress… at all.
6. Eye Patches Are Fucking Cool
If one look should be resurrected any time soon, Natalie 10 reckons it should be Bette Davis in The Anniversary. Who can resist a wardrobe-coordinated eye patch? Not us, anyway.
7. Prostitutes Are Great Dressers.
Cinematically speaking, have you ever seen a badly dressed Lady of the Night? Us nivver. Whether it’s Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (and here it goes without saying that her kerb-crawling get-up is far more on point than all her Nice Lady clothes) to Holly Golightly to um, thingumy in The Crying Game, prostitutes are often some of the snappiest dressers in town. Special mention should also go to a distinct subset within this category: the underage hooker: Jodie Foster in Taxi Driver, Brooke Shields in Pretty Baby… those prepubescent gutter hustlers sure know how to dress. This, in turn, gets us thinking that…
8. Pretty Much Anything With Brooke Shields in It Is Gonna Be Fashion Template-Worthy
Except for Suddenly Susan. And Lipstick Jungle. And The Muppets Take Manhattan. And Stalking Laura. And Freaked. Which leaves Pretty Baby and, at a push, The Blue Lagoon. And that Calvin Klein ad. Which isn’t even a film. So… basically ignore this point.
9. Fashion Loves a Nazi
Eek! This observation has been made before, of course – and once cost a magazine editor his job – but it must be noted that the fashion industry does have an enduring obsession with all things Hitler facing. Maybe it’s something to do with Fashion’s Eternal Pursuit of the Transgressive. Or maybe it’s because fashion bods are generally amoral types who only see a precision-cut leather trench and not the gas chamber behind it. Either way, filmic Nazis have long been a recurring motif on the catwalk. Visconti’s The Damned, The Night Porter, Salon Kitty… We could go on. Except we can’t think of any others right now.
10. Films About Fashion Should Either Be Documentaries Or Be Made by Dead Directors
By and large, film doesn’t really “get” fashion. Film thinks that fashion is, in the main, Shallow, Superfluous and not a little bit Ridiculous (how wrong can you be?!). Film thinks that fashion is essentially Zoolander without the jokes. Prêt-à-Porter and a handful of documentaries aside, film hasn’t really taught us that much about fashion. Indeed, our favourite fashion-on-film moment involves the mispronunciation of Versace and that’s not really saying that much.
Conclusion: film should leave fashion well alone. And maybe, just for a while at least, fashion should return the favour.
by Glenn Waldron
