If there's one thing I have a love/hate relationship with, it must be guides on how to wear -and more importantly how not to wear- certain items of clothing. They are completely absurd and I'm convinced there's some bigger evil scheme behind them which most of us who take their advices for granted don't foresee. BUT I SEE YOU! I see you 'trend watcher', 'stylist', 'random stylish person with an opinion'. *looks suspiciously around* Because why can't I wear head-to-toe leopard print? Or socks in sandals?
My grandma was convinced/indoctrinated that pink + red was an absolute no go doomed for catastrophe. However, as a pink + red enthusiast, I'm yet to be hit by lightning. *touches wood* Although Katharina Blansjaar doesn't discuss this particular colour scheme, in her book Chic: 50 fashion classics & how to wear them she does provide us fashion devotees with some 'handy' tips and advices. The main bulk of the book is dedicated to explaining the origin of the -seemingly by her selected- fifty fashion classics (among which the trenchcoat, sweatpants and obviously the monokini). As to be expected when discussing classics, the stories she uncovers about each item in four or less pages are hardly surprising for the casual fashion fact veteran (which made me, as one of those before mentioned veterans, feel quite smug about myself). However it's the 'and how to wear them' part in the subtitle that grabbed my attention.
The never-explained-but-everyone-knows-them rules
Although Blansjaars' how (not) to wear advices must be taken with a pinch of salt (how to wear a mini skirt: preferably with underpants/how not to wear hotpants: when they look like your underpants), she still spits out a particular set of rules one must confirm to. And, again, perhaps because the book discusses fashion classics the general unimaginative advices upholds a strict set of never-explained-but-everyone-knows-them rules religiously repeated by respected fashion and lifestyle magazines. This is most notable throughout the book with a seemingly personal vendetta against Lolita's. Although I understand that the Lolita aesthetic isn't necessarily 'chic' or 'classic' in Western terms (though the Japanese Lolita references the Victorian era and Western Lolita -in the Nabokov sense- are icons of youth and we all know how much we love our anti-age potions), the Lolita character is mentioned so many times in a negative setting that one starts to wonder what cute looking people ever have done to her...Because the advices given exists in the never-explained-but-everyone-knows-them realm, Blansjaar and the likes never provide a definitive NO NO or answer to our battle cries of 'but WHY?'. Plenty of fashion faux pas have wandered the streets without ending the world. And I think most people will agree there's nothing sinister about combining pink with red. So it annoys me that our choices are limited to an x number of approved options which are not only imposed on us by the fashion industry but are also socially regulated; we've all been once participants in the choir of tutting when a socks-in-sandals unironically strolls by.
Anything goes... NOT
These kind of clothing-etiquettes have been around since forever (that's a rough estimation) and we actually use those ridiculous rules as an important guide when researching clothing habits of the past and its role in society. How do we know the intrinsic glove-on/glove-off rituals people had to undergo in the 18th century just to be deemed 'not rude'? Well through similar guides like these. With the arrival of fast fashion mid-20th century style guides imploded and the intrinsic workings of before mentioned glove-dance are thought to be replaced by a whirlwind of anything goes. But if the dismissive tone and confusing finger-snap pace on 'hot or not' spreads in magazines are anything to go by, not anything goes.Although these spreads mainly rely on the highly scientific prediction which colour will be the new black (only panicking half-way through the rainbow to, in a spur of brilliance, declare black as the new black), it's interesting to think how these declarations will be interpreted in future years. My mind immediately went to that 100 Years of Fashion video that circled around the internet some time ago. To my greatest surprise the quintessential look of 2015 (the year the video was published) has been approved by my brain as an accurate representation of that year. Although I agree with their choice, I certainly didn't look like that. Nor anyone I know. So why are those items of clothing styled in that particular way 'quintessential' while they don't represent 'us'?
Conspiracy theories & fashion propaganda
EVIL SCHEME! That's right, conspiracy theory confirmed, fashion history is an inside job! A question we should be asking ourselves is: are we qualified to interpret our clothing habits so close to our daily experience? Shouldn't there be at least a hundred years and an alien species in between? The answer is dubious. First hand narration of the ways clothes are worn and the meaning behind them in social context surely helps. But when this is done by professionals within the industry you can argue it only provides legitimisation of their fashionable propaganda.Through trend forecasting professionals look-and-point, tell people what they've seen and enhance this image to turn it into a (possible) trend. This idea gets put into practice through fashion designers adapting their advices, made attainable by high street retailers and desirable through magazines, (sponsored) blogposts and other similar outings. Thanks to the latter part the rules on 'how to wear' are further established and then by claiming it's not hot any more and abandon their own creation, they make room for it in fashion heaven. Sometimes to be resurrected in books like those written by Blansjaar (the monokini? A fashion classic? Seriously?) or only brought up to mock and digging its grave a little bit deeper. The industry thus regulates what's thought, made, bought, worn and what parts of that cycle are adopted and used as an icon in our (wardrobe) history. Evil. I smell evil.
Although anything but inventive, Chic by Katharina Blansjaar is a fast and fun read for anyone who likes to indulge in the dubious character of fashion guides and history. The book is beautifully illustrated by Daniel Müller, which seriously helps in my ratings, and although my neck hurts from nodding in regocnition, perhaps there are some surprises left for the uninformed (I told you reading this book made me smug).
What do you think: fashion rules, an inside job or a public endorsed phenomena?
