A Collection of Decades

what's old is still new at new york fashion week

Sarah Lipman

Mike Cire

+ more images



PrintPrint

If “art mimics life,” what about fashion? As our world becomes a little flatter, so do the boundaries that have historically separated haute couture from street wear, and all it takes is a glance around the Columbia campus to see how much more accessible fashion has become in the last 10 years.

Fashion, in the last decade, may have lacked any definitive, recognizable signature styles: while every decade of the last century has had an easily identified checklist of trends, this one has eschewed the conventional “in” versus “out,” in favor of picking and choosing from both the past and other cultures, to create something unique and elusive. Yet an overarching eclecticism of high-low mixtures makes fashion more attainable, more daring, and more individual. The ’20s had bobbed hair and beaded flapper dresses, the ’60s had mod headbands and Pucci-print shifts, and the ’90s had grungy ripped flannel and Prada backpacks. But the ’00s saw, as our new decade is now seeing, the amalgamation of any and all of these trends in an artful combination of history, culture, and designer and mainstream duds.

Charlotte Ronson’s fall/winter 2010 collection embodies the thrown-together chic of this generation’s iconic global girl perfectly. Part gypsy, part hippie and part ’70s urban working girl, Ronson’s runway walkers donned tough leather, army jackets, and workday trenches over ankle-length floral silk skirts—all topped off with loose turbans and tall black boots or brown leather oxfords. Menswear-inspired vests over blousy white shirts evoked Annie Hall—but perhaps a more worldly Annie, who has embraced not only the bustling New York metropolis, but a more global perspective as well.

Layering slightly mismatched pieces was also a dominant theme at BCBG Max Azria fall/winter 2010, where sheer black knits worn under belted, color-blocked silk tunics made the outfits more cold weather-appropriate. White tights and black ankle-strap wedges added a futuristic element, but the luxe layers made Azria’s collection easy and wonderfully wearable.

The days of “the outfit” may be long gone, but achieving the perfect contrast can be difficult in its own right. More mixing and less matching allows for the incorporation of virtually any item — including many formerly considered off-limits to any self-respecting fashion maven, from cowboy boots to body-con leotards — but only so long as its inclusion in the ensemble results in a well-balanced contrast.

In the past, any period admired for its style has offered time-tested fashion icons whose looks were admired and copied. One turns to Ingrid Bergman in a fabulously ’40s Burberry trench, Jackie O in a fitted cocktail sheath, and the Beatles in mod suits for emblematic inspiration. But today’s trendsetters aren’t known for one signature look—Sienna Miller and the Olsen twins, for instance, show off ensembles as unpredictable as boyfriend tuxedo shirts with diamond earrings, leggings, and cowboy boots, to glamorous cocktail dresses with gladiator sandals, to a black bathing suit and matching fedora.

Historical icons provide material to channel—one source among many, including today’s runways, chain stores, and street-style blogs.

The lines conceived and popularized in the last several years are testaments to this desire for mixture. Those lines that were around before the turn of the last century have adapted to reflect the currently-popular ordered chaos. At the Nicole Miller fall/winter 2010 show, dresses were toughened up with sharp shoulders, black motorcycle jackets, and leg warmers over sheer black tights or leather leggings—this from a designer once best known for her cocktail shifts and printer silk ties. Black skull caps made the looks less Upper East Side and more downtown. But today the barrier between formal- and casualwear is crumbling, and many of Miller’s girls would fit in well on Park Ave or Prince Street.

Lela Rose, like Miller, reworked the formalwear tradition to create something less expected. This season’s collection amped up special-occasion pieces with space-age prints and exposed zippers. Geometrically-constructed frocks would be equally fitting on a ’60s London swinger as on the futuristic Judy Jetson. At the Vena Cava show, fedoras and fishnets brought a touch of ’20s cabaret to ’40s dresses and short silhouettes; ’50s fox stoles, ’70s John Lennon sunglasses, and a dramatic but stunningly chic black silk halter jumpsuit rounded out the collection. The diversity of inspiration, however, summed up perfectly the type of Keira Knightley-approved, of-the-moment look, mimicked by cool Londoners and Brooklynites.

On the menswear front, Jeffrey Buckler offered the male counterpart to Ronson’s elegant vagabond. Themed to Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, leather backpacks and black lace-up boots complemented both casual flannels, tees, and parkas and more fashion-conscious suiting. The looks were a higher-end evocation of mid-century beatnik, paradoxically touched with influences less rugged and more modern-urban, such as shiny puffer parka coats and drop-crotch pants.

Departing from the days when fashion was restricted to runways and editorial pages, this interpretation and re-interpretation plays out in the real world, particularly at Columbia. As collegians in New York City, students have the opportunity to see trends where they’re created. Perhaps unwittingly, we’ve adopted this rule of no rules.

Columbians might, as a whole, be relatively unaware of what is happening at the tents at Bryant Park, but the often-unplanned combinations that result when you mix an Ivy League heritage with this busy and vibrant metropolis are a chic result of the liberating movement in fashion, and one that will likely continue into the new decade. A quick scan of College Walk turns up more than a few students whose wrinkled and oversized oxford shirts, black skinny jeans, Ray-Ban wayfarers, and peacoats—evidence just how much everything from ’70s punk, to recent-but-classic boarding school Brooks Brothers, influences campus style.

“Fashion” is best expressed through clever syntheses: a pair of tough Alexander Wang booties with a sweet ruffled vintage dress and a boyfriend blazer, or shorts with lace tights and heels, or denim and lingerie. Nothing can be categorized as “in” or “out” so long as it is not overly pristine or perfectly matched. The head-to-toe designer pairing is defunct and even gauche; the upheaval of the traditional fashion hierarchy means that the emphasis is now on individual consumers. Fashion may once have been the domain of the industry elite, but now the responsibility lies within a more personal amalgamation of choices.

The clothing on the catwalks today is more easily mimicked on more concrete terms. Ronson’s flower-child, floor-grazing skirts and Buckler’s flannels could be found at both thrift stores and Bergdorf’s. Designer denim looks best paired with a T-shirt from Target and oversized vintage cocktail jewelry. Luxe demands a casual counterbalance, and coveted European designer wares beg to be paired with basics from the Gap. If one can’t find structure in our increasingly fluid culture, with its fluctuating economy and blurred borders, one can at least learn to expect the unexpected and incorporate a little bit of all styles and price ranges. Eclecticism, after all, is more attainable than head-to-toe Rodarte.

Next fall, fashion week’s anticipated move from the traditional Bryant Park tents to Lincoln Center, an iconic cultural institution, solidifies fashion’s position as more of an art than a science. But technology has helped, insofar as it has helped fashion move in a more egalitarian direction. Anna Wintour will always have the best seat in the house, but anyone can view next season’s runway looks on the internet. Capitalizing even further on the power of technology, recent blogging sensations like 13-year-old Tavi Gevinson now earn front-row seating and the status of designer muse.

This increasing accessibility and democratization of fashion has manifested itself on campus, not only in the scores of well-dressed students on Low Plaza, but also in the introduction of campus groups, like Hoot Magazine and CU Couture, that focus on fashion. It looks as if the ’10s are likely to keep bringing high fashion closer to home.

Comments

We're looking for comments that are interesting and substantial. If your comments are excessively self-promotional, or obnoxious you will be banned from commenting. Consult the comment FAQ and legal terms.