proposed (Photoshopped) APEC outfits in Hawaii, 2011

I read with some interest the Times article Obama Says Forum’s Costume Photo Is Unnecessary. This refers to the tradition of the 21 members of the annual APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation) forum participating in what has unfortunately been dubbed “the silly shirts photo.” Past photo-ops “have included ponchos and what looked like gowns for pregnant bridesmaids,” Jackie Calmes wrote. Frankly, I’m surprised by Calmes’ snarkiness.

At the first meeting in Seattle in 1993, then-President Bill Clinton outfitted the leaders in leather bombardier flight jackets. This fun photo-op idea subsequently became a tradition to don the national dress of APEC’s revolving host country; leaders wore the outfits for the photo and the rest of the day.  Let’s take a look at past ensembles and judge for ourselves, shall we?

1994 Indonesia, Batik shirts

Batik is a wax-dying technique that, in certain regions, can takes inspiration from everyday life like flowers, people, Arabic calligraphy, European bouquets, Chinese phoenixes, or Indian peacocks, marvelously illustrating the influences upon Indonesia as a land. There are many batiks specific to momentus occasions (weddings, funerals, births), and batik is often an integrated part of such ceremonies. During an expectant first pregnancy, mother-to-be is wrapped in seven layers of batik while being wished well (“naloni mitoni”); and batik is incorporated into another ritual when a baby touches the earth for the first time (I just like the very existence of such a ceremony!). Though I don’t have expertise enough to name the batik prints worn by esteemed APEC leaders below, it is easy to see the variety, and fun to imagine the rich history that produced such “classic” motifs.

APEC in Indonesia, 1994

1995 Japan (Business suits)

It was decided that the familiar kimono was too restrictive to be worn comfortably by APEC members, so they all wore suits. Not only disappointing, this excuse is curious to me, as Samurai wore kimonos and had notoriously physically active lifestyles.

APEC in Japan, 1995

1996 Philippines (Barong shirts)

Barongs are very lightweight and white (speaking to the climate of the Philippines), common formal attire for men and sometimes women. The barong was popularized by Ramon Magsaysay when he wore it to his inauguration as president in 1950, and most formal affairs afterwards (reminds me of Josephine popularizing the “Empire” gown at Napoleon’s coronation.) Dubious legend has it that the invading Spaniards forced Filipinos to wear their barongs untucked (Spaniards would wear them tucked) for easy class distinction, and they allegedly took advantage of the barong’s translucency to see if Filipinos were attempting to conceal weapons. Accurate or not, it’s telling that these possible myths about the national garb being used to control the native people endure.

APEC in Philippines, 1996

1997 Canada (Leather jackets)

I must admit, bomber jackets don’t really scream “Canada” to me, but feel free to offer hypotheses of relevant history!

APEC in Canada, 1997

1998 Malaysia (Batik shirts)

Though a similar wax-removal dying technique is used in Malaysia as in Indonesia, there are some major differences. First, depictions of humans or animals are rare because such images for decoration are forbidden in Islam (the butterfly is an exception, for some reason). Malaysian batiks are highly vivid, unlike the earthy Indonesian tones. The Malaysian government has been heavily promoting the adoption of batik as a national outfit, even encouraging civil servants wear it on the 1st and 15th of every month.

APEC in Malaysia, 1998

1999 New Zealand (Sailing jackets)

As an island New Zealand clearly has an oceanic ties, solidified far before the British colonialists arrived by the indigenous and ingenious Maori. When I myself sailed there in 1997 as a high school student aboard the now sunk (!!) Concordia, New Zealand had just won back the America’s Cup sailing prize, and goddamn, the whole country was abuzz with pride. I enjoy the outdoorsy look the weatherproof jackets give the dignitaries, though I’m disappointed they obliterate any reference to the native peoples who sailed around the island first.

APEC in New Zealand, 1999

2000 Brunei Darussalam (Kain Tenunan shirts)

Southeast Asia has developed its textiles over centuries (the earliest recorded mention of cloth-weaving in Brunei Darussalam can be traced to the turn of the 16th century), and motifs include leaves, local flowers, and Islamic patterns. A sad consequence of modernism has been a drop-off in interest in this labor-intensive art. Since 1975, the Brunei Arts and Handicrafts Training Centre (BAHTC) has been apprenticing small batches of trainees in traditional handicrafts such as weaving, but it might be relegated to a curiosity in the not-too-distant future. I wish I could better see the embroidery on the APEC shirts to discern a pattern or significance.

APEC in Brunei Darussalam, 2000

2001 People’s Republic of China (Tangzhuang shirts)

The Tangzhuang is a jacket that originated at the end of the Qing Dynasty (1644–1911), modified from the Manchu clothing Magua. Typical colors are red, dark blue, gold and black, and Chinese monograms with good wishes are a common motif (lovely sentiment, right?). Initially it was only worn by the elite classes, though it has trickled down to be worn by all in modern times (even women, if you can believe it!).

APEC in People's Republic of China, 2001

2002 Mexico (Guayabera shirts for men/Huipíles for women)

The origins of the Guayabera shirt is actually hotly contested — most Latin American countries, Cuba (which declared it its national garment in 2010), and even the Philippines claim it as their invention. There is a Cuban legend that a poor seamstress sewed large pockets on her farmer husband’s shirt so he could carry guavas home. Guayabera shirts are traditionally white or very pale, with 2 -4 large pockets, side slits, and vertical rows of tiny pleats. They’re worn for special and casual occasions all over the Caribbean.  A huipil is a tunic / blouse worn by the indigenous women of Mexico, Central America, and northern South America (and by men in Guatemala). The elaborate decorative embroidery may convey the wearer’s village, marital status, and personal beliefs. (I wish we could see more detail in the APEC photo.)

APEC in Mexico, 2002

2003 Thailand (Brocade shirts for men/Brocade shawls for women)

Richly embroidered brocade — material with raised texture — is the most expensive type of silk and was only worn during ceremonial occasions like weddings. This clearly speaks to the natural resources (mulberry trees, food of silk worms) and accompanying silk industry, to say nothing of the Silk Road relationships. To even untangle silk from woven cocoon to useable thread is an absurdly time and labor intensive process, and silk has always been a luxury fabric, worn by the royal court, favored by the Prime Minister’s wife, and often given to visiting dignitaries. Ironically it was an American — Jim Thompson — who revitalized Thailand’s declining silk industry in the 1950s and ’60s.

APEC in Thailand, 2003

2004 Chile (Chamantos)

Similar to a poncho (but apparently not exactly the same), chamantos are decorative garments from central Chili woven from silk and wool, with ribbon edging. Each side of a chamanto is fully finished, and one side is lighter colored than the other for variety; the dark side is typically worn during the day (perhaps when it would absorb the most of the sun’s rays in the chilly mountains). Common motifs depict local flora and fauna such as copihues —Chile’s national flower— and various birds.

APEC in Chile, 2004

2005 Republic of Korea (Hanboks)

Hanboks, colorful, pocket-less garments with sleek lines, are the traditional costume of Korea; it literally translates as “Korean clothing.” Though historically commoners wore hanbok and rulers and aristocrats wore more foreign-influenced designs, they have always been worn ceremonially. Hanboks were designed to facilitate ease of movement and also incorporated many shamanistic motifs, indicative of their nomadic northern Asian origins.

APEC in Korea, 2005

2006 Vietnam (Áo dài)

As opposed to the A-line looseness of the hanbok, the áo dài is a closer fitting silk tunic worn over pantaloons. Originally an 18th century court dress, over centuries it evolved. In the 1920s and ’30s, artists modernized it as a female dress, and in the 1950s the waist was tightened to produce today’s silhouette (men’s fit is still un-cinched). Typically a female dress, the áo dài is imbued with feminine and nationalistic symbolism (interesting, given the unfortunately typical male-dominated politicians in APEC).

APEC in Vietnam, 2006

2007 Australia (Driza-Bones and Akubra Hats)

“Driza-Bone” (“dry as a bone”) is an Australian company specializing in foul weather gear, established in 1898 by a Scottish immigrant. Initially developed to protect horse riders from the rain, they were originally made of oiled sail boat sails. With some irony, the company moved back from an extended international hiatus to Australia a year after APEC gathered; but perhaps the “silly photo” garnered enough attention to spur the return? Unfortunately this photo doesn’t show the akubra hats, but they’re the typical wide-brimmed hats of the Australian bushmen, not dissimilar from functional American cowboy hats which protected the wearer from harsh wind and sun.

APEC in Australia, 2007

2008 Peru (Ponchos)

Protective woolen ponchos have been worn by the peoples of the Andes since pre-Hispanic times. A gorgeously simple and un-wasteful design, they are constructed from a single square of woven fabric with a center hole cutout for the head; waterproof versions may have fasteners to close holes and hoods to protect from heavy weather. Though this is inevitably one of the APEC outfits that’s the butt of many jokes, latex-coated military ponchos have been worn by Americans since the 1850s and were used in the American Civil War as a multipurpose jacket, tent, or ground-covering sheet for sleeping. They have consistently been a part of American military accoutrements ever since, albeit in technologically edgy textiles. Peru had the original!

APEC in Peru, 2008

2009 Singapore (Peranakan-inspired designer shirts)

Peranakens are the descendants of late 15th and 16th-century Chinese immigrants to Indonesia; they clung to many of their traditional ways of life such as ancestor worship, but assimilated with the culture and language of their new land. Traditional designs often incorporate Chinese symbols, and shoes often have European flowers, but depicted in local bright palettes.

APEC in Singapore, 2009

2010 Japan (Smart casual)

Prime Minster Naoto Kan cops out of kimonos once again. (I’m not going to get into the history of the dark business suit at the moment, but frankly, I associate it more with English / American history than with that of the Japanese, yet in light of all the other foreign influences present in previously mentioned national costumes, it should not be so surprising that the two-piece suit has become ubiquitous for businessmen / politicians everywhere.)

APEC in Japan, 2010

2011 United States (Business suits)

APEC in United States, 2011

I really love seeing familiar leaders in the colorful, unfamiliar dress of these countries. It makes me question (again) the prejudices the western world has against color, decoration, and unisex clothing on men — this of course taps into ideas of masculine identity and classicism. It also strikes me that from a distance, when the members are in a line in the same outfits, they look like they’re unified. They look like they’re working together. Whatever differences they may have in skin tone or hair styling or ideology fades to the background, and they appear to be a unified body. And shouldn’t they?

It was especially interesting to me that Obama chose to dissolve the tradition in his own home state, where presumably he feels the most comfortable in the local garb. Chilean President Piñera Echenique was said to have asked, disappointed, during this year’s APEC meeting, “Where are the Hawaiian shirts?” It has been speculated that Obama deemed the bright floral inappropriate for these austere economic times, but I would argue that’s exactly when color and patterns and art and fun are the most needed — to lift our spirits. I recently had a discussion with an activist friend of mine who has deliberately been toning down her wardrobe as she becomes more involved in radical organizing because she fears colors and patterns or anything “fashionable” would be considered bourgeois in her line of work. I pointed out that the most ostentatious dressers I know are typically artists — a group famous for its financial struggles and radical alliances. This may be so, my friend conceded, but within Marxist ideology, there is a long history of vilifying fashion as a non-useful and therefore frivolous waste of energy and resources. <sigh>

But to return to the topic: if the impetus for abolishing the APEC costume tradition is so-called lack of dignity or a fear of appearing foolish, I must protest on three counts. First, politicians are known to be stuffy, conservative (i.e. “boring”) dressers, and it might actually do some good for their public images (and their cause with APEC) to be seen as real people who actually get silly and have fun — like us norms. Second, and this is a greater problem in my mind, this discomfort in native dress, even for a “silly picture,” highlights the prejudices of one culture towards others. “Ponchos and batik shirts might be fine for the locals, but that ridiculous look is normalized where they live!”

Lastly, as a fashion culturalist, I emphatically believe that clothes are imbued with socio-cultural significance. When you stop to ask why the national dress of various countries, even within a relatively small geographical area, are different (and also how they overlap), you are forced to confront the histories of those countries, their natural resources (silk production of Thailand), their climates (heat of Mexico), their wealth distribution (Thai brocade silks), their political systems (Shanghai Mao collars), what kind of work and activities the populations engage in (Peruvian / Chilean ponchos facilitate movement; New Zealand and Australia’s stave off extreme wet weather). Empathize with another man by walking in his shoes? Why not pose for one so-called “silly picture” in another man’s whole outfit? I dare you to not get a new perspective on your own ethnocentricity.

In trolling through all the mountains of Fashion Week photos several seasons ago now, I stumbled upon Todd Lynn’s Spring and Fall ready-to-wear collections for 2011. They caught my attention because, unlike the standard erogenous zones, these focused on the neck — that is, the neck was almost always covered or partially obscured. Stiff collars make heads look like they’re floating, soft furs cuddle faces, asymmetrical flaps of leather strapped to half the neck by way of the armpit (another oft-ignored zone).

I love neck-centric clothes — especially for women’s wear, clothes all too often focus a few inches down, on the breasts. The neck is still highly sensual — soft skin, elongated, smooth lines, one’s throat is rarely touched except by lovers… or aggressors. Because the throat is also highly vulnerable — veins are close to the surface, and essential air is usefully transported from the nose and mouth to the lungs. If these processes are tampered with — via constriction or severing — serious or even fatal damage can be done. But shall I backtrack?

As Harold Koda noted in the Extreme Beauty catalog, an elongated neck implies dignity, poise, and authority across all cultures. It further distinguishes itself as a unique focal point of beauty in that it is not an indicator of youth, as, say, pert breasts and lustrous hair are. Though it is difficult to stretch the neck, drooped shoulders give the illusion of a longer neckline. The Ndebele women of South Africa and the Padaung women of Burma wear heavy coils that weigh down the collarbone, angling it up to 45º (the natural angle is close to 90º); the coils simultaneously stretch the neck vertebrae and slope the shoulders to blur the shoulder line into the neck. These coils also form a protective metal barrier around the weakened throat like armor:

The neck as a focal point in fashion also transgresses genders, as it is equally useful to men as to women as a pedestal on which to drape symbols of wealth, authority and beauty. Historically, bishops and kings have been just as likely to adorn their necks as women. Note the triangulated silhouette of the Cardinal’s cape, obscuring his shoulders and drawing the eyes to the apex, his neck and head; the heavy medals and necklaces advertise these men’s wealth and authority:

Though in daily life necks are covered by soft material, 16th century menswear was influenced by armor design –  a sign of masculine strength and virility — which subtly implies the vulnerability of the neck and the necessity of covering it. In the pictures below you can see how armor and soft cloth mimicked each other in skirt, faux pleats, squared-off toes, etc. Though Henry’s neck is not protected by metal, in both portraits (above and below) he clutches a glove and a dagger, indicative of duels and violence:

John Galliano employed both the triangulated shoulder illusion of male robes, and the extending Afro-Asian neck coils in his otherwise European-tailored suit and choker for Dior’s FW97 collection. Todd Lynn conceived a more pared-down, monk-like version for his coat that obscures and therefore highlights the neck:

From the 16th through 19th centuries, corsets were constructed with shoulder straps that similarly triangulated a woman’s shoulders. Rather than extending the clothes from shoulder to chin, clothes were cut away from that area, exposing the flesh of throat, upper back, and shoulder top to lengthen that same line. These necklines perhaps don’t scream “danger!” at first, but the fashionably exposed necks certainly contribute to the pervading sense of unease viewers experience while watching Dracula films, am I right?

Just post-French Revolution, a small but highly visible group of radical dandies — the Incroyables — took to winding neck scarves up the length of their necks and even over their chins; it has been speculated that this was a symbolic protective measure of that part of the body that had recently been targeted by the dreaded guillotine. Compare to the structured high collar in Todd Lynn’s collection that captures some of the aggression and unease present in the turn-of-the-19th century example:

Vampires and slashers share a similar modus operandi: both are sexual, aggressive, and violent, usually focusing on or around the neck which, as I hope I’ve already conveyed, embodies sensual vulnerability. The collar from Alexander McQueen’s “Dante” collection (FW97) is protective in its height, but aggressive in its angularity; its plunging slashed neckline is further exaggerated by the dramatic upward sweep of the starched-like collar. Similarly, Todd Lynn’s blood-red ensemble covers the neck, shoulders, and chin, but exposes a slice of flesh just below:

All this to say, I’m ready for more neck-centric fashions. Who’s with me???!!

This recent August 6 would have been Lucille Ball’s 100th birthday (1911 – 1989), and crowds of impersonators showed up to celebrate in her hometown, Buffalo, NY. There were polka dot dresses, garish red curly wigs, and red lipsticked lips galore in attempts to emulate the comedienne:

Lucille Ball 100th bday impersonators, 2011

Though this ensemble became iconic for the woman (even in black and white, her garish, dyed red hair was a frequent punchline), it was actually only representative of a carefully honed looked for her best-known character, Lucy Ricardo (which was, of course, based on her own larger-than-life personality), on her shows I Love Lucy (1951 – 57) and subsequent insinuated-reprises including Lucy Carmichael in The Lucy Show (1962 -68), and Lucy Carter in Here’s Lucy (1968 – 74). Prior to TV success, she had a less-celebrated stage and film career during which she and the studios (RKO and MGM) altered her look in ill-advised attempts to cast her in more traditional romantic roles (she was briefly a Ziegfeld Girl). During this time, she was barely recognizable — in that she was often legitimately glamorous, even modeling for fashion entrepreneur Hattie Carnegie! From a pretty but typical-looking young woman…

Lucille Ball c late 1920s

…to a bombshell uncannily mimicking some of the great sex symbols of the silver screen:

Lucille Ball, c. 1930s

Jean Harlow, 1934

Lucille Ball c. 1940s

Rita Hayworth in Gilda, 1946

Lucille was a cover girl for Max Factor in the ’30s and ’40s, and her lip outline changed radically over the course of these years. In the vaudeville tradition, Lucille uglified herself with clownish makeup to enhance her physical humor. Playing the housewife of a celebrity, she was attractive but made up to highlight her expressive faces. The false eyelashes and permanently arched penciled eyebrows accentuated her inevitable bug-eyed uh-oh face, and her lip shape morphed into the wide-mouthed smear that accentuated her smiles and grimaces. Compare the sophistication of Lucille’s Max Factor model persona (and her comparitavely normal lip shape…

Lucille Ball Max Factor lipstick ad, c 1930s

To the makeup of lovable but distinctly vaudevillian Lucy:

Lucille Ball faces

Though you can see Lucille was lovely and certainly capable of being glamorous, her impish personality and physical brand of comedy (still uncommon in female actresses) always tempered the glitz– she seems to be laughing at the outrageous fashions of her day, even as her Lucy character covets them (she is constantly trying to save money from the household allowance Ricky doles out so she can purchase pretty dresses).

While Hollywood was experimenting with camera and projection techniques like wide screens, 3-D, and special effects (think of all the sci-fi, B-horror, and spaghetti Western movies that came out of the ’50s), the new medium of TV often focused on the American home — daring to show more middle and even working-class family life like The Honeymooners (1953 – 56), The Donna Reed Show (1958 – 66) and Father Knows Best (1954 – 60) that generally reaffirmed the survival of the patriarchal American family dynamic in the post-WWII years. While I Love Lucy ostensibly follows this family drama formula, there were some notable differences between the Ricardo family and that of other superficially comparable TV shows.

The vast majority of I Love Lucy was filmed in the Ricardo apartment, as it was ostensibly about a good little ’50s hausfrau and her bread-earner entertainer husband who spends large chunks of time off-screen as we follow Lucy’s days. Accordingly, we saw Lucy in a lot of cinched-waisted house dresses and aprons as she goes about her household chores:

You might also note that in both the photos above she is not wearing the pointy, teetering stilettos of the day (that we can assume, say, Donna Reed’s character did while performing mundane housework), but rather practical ballet flats. Though she is dressed for housework, Lucy spends almost all  her days scheming how to break into showbiz / meet celebrities / buy pretty dresses. Again, unlike Donna Reed’s accomplished housewife, we do not get the impression that Lucy excels at cooking or decorating or budgeting the household allowance (see “The Freezer” episode where she buys beef in bulk to save money for a dress) because she has dreams that exist outside her apartment. Which leads to the logical question, who really wore the pants in the Ricky / Lucy relationship?

It has been suggested that audiences would not have enjoyed Lucy — a brash woman who frequently wore pants — taunting, insulting, and continuously disobeying her husband if Desi had not been Cuban. In spite of his good nature and machismo, his immigrant (a.k.a. “inferior”) status made it ok to root for his hairbrained wife, who frequently parroted his heavy accent like an infantile school boy to gain the upper hand in squabbles.  Meanwhile, behind the scenes, Lucille had tremendous business savvy and became the first woman to own her own TV studio (DesiLu Productions). Below, we see Lucy in rather loud plaid pants that speak to her dominant role in the marriage and one the show, and also recall her vaudeville roots (her father had brought the family to shows, and Lucille trained with Buster Keaton)

Pants on a woman was shocking in ’50s culture, much less ’50s TV portrayal of idealized family life. Though she’s not as known for it as, say Marlene Dietrich or Katharine Hepburn, Lucille wore pants on and off-screen:

Both women are buh-diculously wealthy heiresses.

Katharine Hepburn in pants

young Lucille in casual pants

Interestingly, Lucy was one of the first women to dare show herself in masculine pants on TV, and also in her feminine glory — that is, pregnant — on TV. The episode “Lucy is Enceinte” (aired December, 1952), was when Lucy revealed to Ricky she was pregnant — a word the censors would not let her say, hence the euphemism “expecting”. Lucille was also pregnant in real life, and you can see she her wearing fuller and frillier dresses and shirts leading up to the actual revelation. Pregnant women have always made the “general” (read “male”) public  vaguely uncomfortable, and it was a big deal that Lucy actually looked pregnant rather than hiding her bump until an off-screen birth.

Lucy in maternity clothes

Not only was she a awesome physical comedienne, Lucille Ball chipped away at what a woman’s role had been defined as in the ’50s. Lucy wore pants, sensible shoes, disagreed openly with her husband, and she never gave up on her dream: to be an entertainer. For all these reasons and more, I love Lucy.

Further Reading:

• Lucille Ball fashion photos

A couple months ago I found myself in Phillie for a family event and I was delighted, not only to spend time with my awesome extended family, but to visit the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Always a favorite of mine (I think they’ve corned the Duchamp market), they also happened to have multiple fashion exhibits up. I’ll skip over the Capucci: Art into Fashion, which was spectacular but has received much praise elsewhere, and focus on a much more modest exhibition, tucked away in an adjacent building: “Tailoring Philadelphia: Tradition and Innovation in Menswear.”

This was a collection of Francis Toscani designs (a man I’d never heard of), and though the dull title might lead you to believe you would be presented with a straightforward timeline of men’s styles, this Toscani chap was truly something special. Toscani (1915–1973) really experimented with traditional tailoring techniques to create inventive suits and jackets, even while following general menswear trends.

Toscani, c. 1967

The above piece is deceptively simple, I think, though it does have an interesting safari-come-dinner jacket look about it, with the practical cargo pockets and impractical creme color (I imagine myself staining this upon a first wearing). But the truly innovative aspect of this piece is… voila:

converted jacket, Toscani, c1967

It actually is meant to be a convertible jacket, from the cargo lounge version to the just-short-of-tails dinner jacket incarnation! To me, this points to the duality of men’s expected roles: a hyper masculine one who hunts lions by day, but who converts into the perfect gentleman at a civilized dinner party at night.

But this is the piece I truly gasped at with awe and delight:

Toscani Half and Half Suit, 1962-65

No, this is not a fashion teaching aid of two hacked suits, though it certainly could be used as one. Toscani created this “Half and Half” suit where one half (our right) was executed in the 1950s style, and the brown half reflected the current ’60s suit trends. After the elaborately embroidered, brightly colored, flamboyantly slashed, and sometimes even girdled men’s fashions of the 16th, 17th, 18th, and early 19th centuries, it’s sometimes hard to notice the more subtle changes in menswear after the three-piece suits came into play. Toscani’s split personality suit really highlights the changes even within one decade: the ’50s half is 3-buttoned and about 6 inches longer; the leg is much fuller with the assistance of a hidden wait pleat; the shoulder slopes more and follows a longer, broader line; the lapel too is much fuller to emphasize a man’s chest breadth. The brown ’60s side is slimmer everywhere: leg, shoulder, lapel, arm; it is only 2-buttoned, further streamlining the look; I was interested to notice the waist is nipped much higher than the ’50s counterpart, favoring a leggier look over a torso-centric one.

This suit (which I intend to make for myself someday by upcycling and uniting two separate suits) does what fashion historians and curators must do for themselves — find visual comparisons to highlight trends stand out; this is not as easy as it sounds, especially when dealing with contemporary fashion, as Toscani was (he made this in the early ’60s). Magazines and blogs attempt to track trends and drive sales, but it’s difficult to separate a seasonal micro-trend from a sustained, decade-long one without some time passage.

Several decades had passed between the height of the zoot suit trend of the ’30s ad ’40s and when Toscani created his own in the early ’60s:

Toscani zoot suit, early 60s

Originally worn by young men (often black or Latino) as a form of rebellious expression, zoot suits had baggy pants and extra-broad chests that belied the fabric shortages imposed by WWII, and the slimmer silhouettes of men’s and women’s mainstream fashion. The son of an Italian immigrant, Toscani may have been reviving the conversation about race and fashion: black and Latino men were known to be taunted, chased, or even beaten when flaunting zoot suits in the ’40s, and Toscani made this as the Civil Rights movement was gaining momentum. Whether by a jacket that looks like one but can convert into two, or with a suit that looks like two but is one, or by reviving a several decades dead trend, Toscani experimented with time passage, functionality, and duality of purpose, masculine and racial roles. A man after my own heart.

I have recently become addicted (as in, I watch it every couple of days. Perhaps on repeat.) to Anna Calvi’s simple but mesmerizing video Blackout:

Though this particular video spends much time grazing Ms. Calvi’s chiseled jawline and lingering on her sensuous, down-turned red mouth (all of which I heartily approve of!), you unfortunately don’t get a concrete taste of her distinctive style, as you do in this live performance of another new  favorite of mine, Desire:

Here we voyeurs can better appreciate the full ensemble: the aggressively slicked-back bun, the winged khol eyes, more of those ruby lips. In conducting a rudimentary image search of Anna, you’ll see she always dresses in strict variations of these themes: red, high-collared shirt with sharp shoulder tailoring; severe low bun; high-waisted black pants; fetish stilettos. Voila! So stringently cohesive (and effective!) is her style as a performer that when her hair is seen in loose curls, it doesn’t feel quite right. It’s a distinctly Spanish style, and though her Italian roots make it easy for her to “pass,” Calvi is not actually Spanish; however, her intense performance style (look at those knitted brows!) easily recalls those of great Flamenco singers.

Flamenco dresses are traditionally red, white and black, polka-dotted, and elaborately ruffled. The graphic qualities of all these elements effectively emphasize the motion of the dancer, as does the common use of asymmetrical or uneven ruffles which imply movement, even in moments of rest:

Fringed shawls heighten this effect, fluidly exaggerating the human motion:

The fringed flapper dresses of the 1920s borrowed the fringe and layered it over entire dresses; this was hugely informed by the popularization of athletic dances like the Charleston, which looked even more marvelous when executed by flappers draped in motion-enhancing fringe. I cannot over-emphasize how jerky these dance crazes were; see the hilarious proof yourself (around 0:26,  1:05, and 2:00, befringed women shake vigorously):

Unlike the ’20s, which was possibly the first decade youth led a widespread fashion revolution (this is, of course, the default now), an interesting characteristic of Flamenco distinguishing it from other dance forms where the nubile are strongly favored (and generally retire in middle age), youth are considered too immature to convey the emotional depth, wisdom, and pain expected of Flamenco performers, whose peaks generally start where other dancers’ end; often performing beyond their 50s. Though frilly, the weightiness of layered Flamenco dresses contribute to this gravitas.

Christian Dior made use of beading in his Flamenco-inspired dress from 1952, creating trompe l’oeil layered ruffles, even as the silhouette remained typical of the 1950’s New Look:

Dior Flamenco dress, 1952

As the wonderful recent exhibition Balenciaga: Spanish Master at New York’s Spanish Institute pointed out, that designer frequently looked to his Spanish roots for inspiration, and many of his dresses, though perfectly indicative of the time in which they were created (puffy skirts and graphic prints were common in the ’60s), they undeniably incorporated red, polka-dots, and lots of ruffles– Flamenco trademarks. In this example, he’s flipped the ruffles to the inner layer, as petticoats (the photo doesn’t capture the vaginal pink of those semi-obscured ruffles):

Mary Jane Russell in Balenciaga Flamenco dress, 1951

The late Alexander McQueen devoted an entire collection to “The Dance of the Twisted Bull” in 2002, conflating Spanish dancing traditions with the footwork of bullfighters (not all were as literal as this example, but I happen to particularly love how the train has turned into a matador’s cape, pierced through):

Alexander McQueen Spring / Summer 2002

Though not from the same collection (in fact, from a shipwreck-themed one collection of the following year), McQueen’s famous “Oyster Dress,” now exhibited in the Met’s spectacular Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty, is clearly speaking from the Flamenco tradition too, with hundreds of layers of silk organza, collapsing the normally stiff ruffles into a softer, destroyed, waterlogged version…

Oyster Dress, Alexander McQueen, SS03

…of a traditional Flamenco dress:

To return to Anna Calvi: her highly stylized, feminine Flamenco makeup flourishes are interestingly contradicted by (male) torero-inspired black slacks and red button-down. Balenciaga famously riffed on this cross-dressing too:

Balenciaga bullfighter ensemble, 1957

McQueen revived it, in a typically more extreme version:

McQueen bullfighter ensemble, Spring/Summer 2002

Both of which seriously resemble Anna, do they not?

Looking at an example of a 21st century interpretation of the cross-dressing, bullfighter / Flamenco dancer drives the point home that we’re ripe for a widespread revival of this look, don’t you agree? May I also suggest that if you come across the opportunity, go see a live Flamenco performance. They are intense like you wouldn’t believe, and you might just get some inspiration from it.

Though I don’t generally think of myself as a shoe fetishist, I do have a soft spot in my heart for Fluevogs. In their latest e-newsletter was a video of a Fluevog shoe being made (I must add the disclaimer that though I truly love Fluevogs, I truly hate the style in this particular vignette):

I have loved seeing the process of how things are made since I was a kid. Perhaps Mr. Rogers’ segment How People Make Things had something to do with it; in addition to the crayon factory (sooo many pretty pretty colors!), Mr. McFeely (the friendly postman) narrated how shoes are made in a factory. I do believe the shoes we see being made are the blue canvas Keds Mr. Rogers was known for slipping into. Go to How People Make Things and select the How People Make Sneakers video to see for yourself.

Though I’m mesmerized by the intricate process of shoe-making (it typically takes more than 100 steps to compose a shoe), I think it’s worth noting that these educational videos do not mention the mostly brown hands toiling with this fussy process, inhaling toxic glues, probably under-paid and over-worked. I can understand why Fluevog wouldn’t address this in their promotional video, but I feel Mr. Rogers missed an opportunity to discuss labor rights and exploitation (see my post on factory exploitation). The closest he gets is when he observes “she works so quickly!” and “She’s so careful!” So close, Fred. So close.

I think there are a lot of similar lost opportunities when viewing the arts and fashion as abstracted expressions of “genius,” emotion, or even kitsch: though a work of art may indeed be these things, these adjectives minimize the historical contexts and forces beyond the control of any particular artist / designer that inevitably are captured in works. That’s why I was so excited to attend the D-Crit conference last week– this two-year-old program within the New School is devoted to the serious analysis of design in all forms. These are my peeps! And yet there were at least two instances where speakers referred lightly to fashion as frivolous and superficial. This was not the thrust of any grand argument, but it was shocking to me in its carelessness–  uttered by two people who are intellectually devoted to the study of design, fashion still gets short shrift when in proximity to architecture, branding, and even audio design elements. I know I’m speaking to a converted audience here, but this was a reminder that even within the arts, fashion and apparel are denigrated. Art and design are powerful teaching / learning tools precisely because they touch every aspect of the human existence, and I just hope a thoughtful, critical approach is taken when discussing things as seemingly benign, or captivating, as a shoe factory video.

It was excitement and ultimate delight that I attended (and presented at) Yale’s “The Urban Catwalk” conference this past weekend. Though ostensibly the theme was street fashion, as with most conferences, this topic was expounded upon by a wide range of scholars from vastly different fields (performance studies, French history, literature, communications, etc.). More even than “street” or even “public space,” the concepts of “authenticity” and “identity” surfaced again and again in these lectures, and interestingly with vastly different implications.

April Calahan spoke about the French penchant for increasingly towering, sculptural hats during the WWII German occupation. While strict rationing of traditional fabric and leather limited fashions at first, soon tailors and cobblers began experimenting with non-traditional materials like cardboard, ribbons, fake food, etc. to create increasingly flamboyant and odd accessories. With gasoline shortages, bicycle culture rose steeply and clothes that facilitated athletic movement gained popularity, but as clothes became more practical, hats became less so. Though she focused on a large group– the French– Calahan emphasized that the often bizarre, towering hats of this period silently but obviously defied the Germans with a quintessential French industry– flamboyant fashion– to assert French collective identity against oppressive invaders.

French hats of '40s

Along similar lines of collective opposition, Jessica Metcalfe gave a fascinating talk about Native American resistance in contemporary streetwear. She pointed to the 19th century assimilation efforts of placing of Native American children in English/American-style boarding schools and that those children were ritualistically stripped of their native clothes and re-dressed in Western styles. (This very much reminded me of Marie Antoinette’s ritual stripping of her Austrian clothes and re-dressing in her adopted French styles.) Metcalfe showed many examples of current, young Native American graphic artists who screenprint familiar Native American motifs (blankets designs, Sitting Bull, buffalo) on modern Western clothes items (hoodies and T-shirts) as Native American activism. Christopher Columbus and 1492 are recurring references (“Fuck Christopher Columbus”) as a key moment of the marginalization of Native Americans. Metcalfe pointed out that there are many tribes all over America, but Native American activist organizations have consciously appropriated pan-Native American motifs, counting on their generic recognizable symbolism to communicate. For example, a feathered headdress– which is only actually worn by chiefs in the plains– to symbolize Native American strength, power, and a position of authority. This kind of “authentic” protest is especially important as Hipsters and stylists adopt sexified trendy Native American styles like fringed moccasins, “Navajo” print jackets, and headdresses.

Several people discussed the relationship between hip hop music, fashion, culture and black identity, and though I think this is a rich course of study, I also think it’s difficult to say anything new about it. Matthew D. Morrison spoke about sagging pants and the so-called relationship to criminality; this reminded several audience members (and me) of the recent French ban of veils, and I wished Morrison had spent a little more time dissecting how / why government attempts to combat cultural blight like criminal violence, oppressive misogyny, etc., by banning clothes associated as the result (or perhaps the precursor?) to these injustices. (See my earlier post on Innerwear as Outerwear.)

Siobhan Carter-David cataloged every Essence Magazine in the ’80s and early ’90s and made the interesting discovery that though no issue in the ’80s ever championed or even portrayed urban black style (layered doorknocker earrings, for example), in the ’90s they did retrospectives on the importance of hip hop fashions. Very interesting that showed how even the black community has been slow to acknowledge hip hop as a relevant style worthy of emulation (this reticence speaks to the strength of associations between hip hop fashion and urban criminality or other undesirable qualities).

In spite of my general boredom of things relating to hipsters, Heidi Khaled linked modern-day hipsters to their historical counterparts. From bohemian artists of the 19th century to the beatniks (apparently formerly known as “hipsters”), to the “hippies” of the ’70s, she traced the lingering associations between these arty types and elite liberalism, to the contemporary concept of consuming cool in today’s hipsters. By pointing out the fine line between earlier artists who were caught between the desire to create “authentic” art and the need to please their patrons, she indicates a puzzling disconnect between today’s aspiring artsy hipsters and true individualistic “authenticity.”

hipster with ironic glasses and mustache

Though he was not the only Performance Studies scholar, Kalle Westerling was the only presenter who incorporated performance into his discussion of performance, which I appreciated conceptually and thoroughly enjoyed. He opened by enacting a kind of poem, enunciating click sounds of lipstick and glosses and glitter as he applied the products to his lips, just before running this video in its entirety:

First: I want Erickatoure’s first ensemble for my own. Second, I loved the connection between Westerling’s lipstick clicks to the shoe clicks used as percussion in the video. He went on to discuss the intimate relationship between drag queens and their clothes– their shoes especially– in forming their identities which are sometimes separated from their drag characters and sometimes not. Performance pervades this relationship, whether on a stage or on a sidewalk.

Daphne Carr presented part of her book on Hot Topic stores and the irony of the existence of a serialized box-store that caters to supposed sub-cultures like Goth, Emo, Grindcore, etc. She has done exhaustive research on the Hot Topic store chain and it’s even more contradictory off-shot C28, the Evangelical Christian spin-off that uses the same “alternative” aesthetic in store decor and merchandise to sell Christian paraphernalia. What does it mean when “alternative,” “individualistic” visuals become corporate and even conservative religious, and why don’t consumers seem to find this contradiction problematic?

C28 T-shirt

Both Lauren Walsh and Pia Sahni spoke about the non-existence or exoticization of ethnic minorities, especially Indians. Though I certainly agree that there is undoubtedly pervasive white-ness to fashion spreads and fashion runways, and a simultaneous fetishization of those excluded “exotic” people, Walsh and Sahni used the word “authentic” to indicate there was a lack of authenticity in these slanted shows and ads– as though an “authentic” advertisement is possible or exists somewhere else.

Keynote speak Caroline Weber (author of the outstanding book What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution) also touched upon “authenticity” and “identity.” In her history of the dress form and mannequin, or “Pandora,” in Paris, she said a major downfall of Marie Antoinette was that she allowed a lifelike, life-size mannequin of herself to be created, to be dressed in her fashions and shipping all over Europe. Though ostensibly used to disseminate the queen’s style for imitation, the inanimate mannequin was greeted by cheering crowds who treated it as a stand-in for the queen herself. While charming, this nonetheless conditioned people to view the mannequin as a live person, and conversely to view the live queen as an inanimate thing to the point that, when the French Revolution rolled around, she had already been literally dehumanized and it wasn’t so shocking to dismember / behead her. In fact, part of the outrage the French people directed at the throne was due to Antoinette’s mannequin, which they now claimed sexualized and debased their monarchy by allowing commoner’s hands to paw the likeness of the queen. The royal authenticity of the queen had been questioned after her mannequin double was accepted as her; I imagine allowing copies of her royal wardrobe was a similar offense as revolution rumbled, even though the same people had clamored for those very knock-offs.

Not so very much has changed in subsequent centuries: don’t we love the supposed originality of new design collections, don’t we crave affordable knock-offs immediately, and then don’t we discard them when they are so affordable they’re pervasive and we no longer appear “individual” or “authentic?” My question is, does authenticity exist at all?

Wisconsin union rally, 2011

In the current climate of rampant, high-profile antisemitism (Galiano, Gibson, etc.), war on unions (Wisconsin), and the attack of women’s health rights, the centennial anniversary of the tragic Triangle Factory fire of 1911 seems eerily apropos. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire was a tragic culmination of long standing inadequate fire and safety codes, and American willful ignorance of the exploitation of the immigrant / Jewish / female work force that largely comprised the garment and textile industries. Unfortunately, the unions that gained so much momentum as a direct response to the Triangle Factory fire have been on the descent, and are under aggressive attack in current legislature. But let me backtrack.

THE SHIRTWAIST

The product of the Triangle Factory, the shirtwaist, was essentially a blouse. Designed for utility, it was basically a feminized version of a man’s undershirt with a turned down collar and button-down front (for details on the history of shirtwaist dress, see Heather Vaughan’s informative article). In “Triangle: The Fire That Changed America,” David Von Drehle asserted that the shirtwaist crossed classes. Designed for mobility during a time when women were mobilizing to join the workforce and vote in their country’s elections, they were worn by clerks,

Mess'rs Park, Davis and Co NYC office, 1910

nurses,

NY cooking school nurse course, 1900

and students.

Academy of St Vincent women, Riverdale, 1915

The shirtwaist “both symbolized and enabled a wave of women’s liberation,” the “perfect repudiation of corsets and bustles and hoops — all the ludicrous contraptions that literally imprisoned women in their own clothes” Von Drehle wrote. In 1910, nearly a third of all factory workers in New York State were women, most dressed in shirtwaists and skirts:

garment workers wearing shirtwaists, c 1900

THE INDUSTRY

Textile and apparel production was one of the first and most aggressively exploited outcomes of the Industrial Revolution (Frederick Engels observed questionable practices in his own father’s factories way back in the mid-19th century, fueling his alliance with Marx):

Hester St sweatshop, 1885

Massive accidents were not uncommon:

explosion at Ames & Moulton Hat factory, Brooklyn, 1860

One of the desired results of the Industrial Revolution was the large-scale (factory) production and wide-spread availability of a variety of textile products, to be purchased at burgeoning department stores like the one below (as opposed to producing clothes within the home, or collaborating with a seamstress and tailor). People loved the wide selection of clothes department stores could offer for immediate purchase and gratification, and this passion for an obscene variety of offered goods hasn’t left America since:

shirts in Rogers Peet & Co, 1908

American immigrants, particularly Eastern European Jews, were eager for the opportunity to take garment factory jobs because they didn’t require fluency in English, and were actually open to women (clothing had historically resided within the female domestic duties). Workers toiled 14 hours a day 6 days a week for as little as $6 a week. Supervisors docked pay for late arrival, talking, taking too long in the rest room or missing Sunday shifts. Workers often sent half of their paltry paychecks to relatives back in their home countries. Pay varied by job, sex, experience, and age, but was generally inadequate to sustain basic family needs. The land of opportunity these immigrants had flocked to lacked adequate safety restrictions, wage requirements, and worker representation.  Children were often employed, for reduced wages but equally abusive work environments:

child working at midnight in glass factory, c 1900

During slack seasons, workers who were perceived as discontented would not be hired. In some shops, workers had to rent their chairs, pay for the electricity used by their sewing machines, and sometimes even supply their own needles and thread (!!). In the photo below, you can see the laborers are hustling over their work so they appear as mere blurs:

garment sweatshop, c 1900

The New York garment industry doubled between 1900 and 1910, making it increasingly lucrative to bring those who had worked in their Lower East Side tenements…

tennement sweatshop c 1900

…into the factories, which should have been regulated, but weren’t. Unions seized upon the factory conditions, and the Women’s Trade Union League additionally fought for more general respect for women in and outside the factories. Just two years before the Triangle Factory fire, the Women’s Trade Union League campaigned for the 8 hour work day and safe working conditions (you can see signs are in Yiddish):

International Ladies Garment Union Workers Union strike, 1909

Though this strike was hugely successful, the Triangle factory was one of a select few businesses that resisted the strike, hiring thugs and prostitutes to disperse the crowds (interesting tactic, right?).

THE FIRE

A skyscraper in its day, the Triangle Factory Asch building was regarded as a model of clean efficiency compared with the sweatshops inside tenement apartments that had been commonplace. It was fireproof (it still functions as an NYU building today), had freight elevators, tall ceilings and windows that flooded the lofts with daylight. But in practice, these amenities fell short of safety for workers. On March 25, 1911, a fire from a waste paper basket went undetected because of the deafening hum of the sewing machines. Workers who fled to the ninth floor stairwell found the exits locked:

Triangle Factory fire locked gate

Many of the doors opened inwards, making it difficult to get through with a crush of frightened people. Those that packed into the elevators found that only so many could fit, and the over-burdened lift eventually plummeted down the shaft. And those that the fire herded to windows found the fire escape ladders too short to reach the ground. There were no sprinklers or fire drills. Just as we saw in 9/11 Twin Towers footage, 54 jumped out windows in desperation, rather than be consumed by flames:

Triangle Factory fire mangled jumpers

An infuriating irony is that the 60-some executives on a higher floor were able to escape to the roof where they climbed down fortuitously placed painter’s ladders.

triangle factory fire being doused

146 garment workers died in the fire. 102 were Jewish, 129 were women. Almost all were immigrants from Russia, Poland, Romania and Hungary. Though these workers were comprised of minority groups most Americans didn’t generally care about, the calamity resonated with many and brought to the forefront the dire factory circumstances many Americans were forced to live with.

THE RESPONSE

Once the fire was extinguished, a long, painful process of identifying victims began:

identifying bodies, Triangle Factory Fire

And within a couple weeks of the fire, the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union organized a funeral procession in Lower Manhattan to honor the victims. More than 120,000 people marched, and 300,000 people paid their respects on that dramatically rainswept day :

Triangle Factory mourners, 1911

The Jewish Forward asserts the avoidable tragedy of the Triangle Factory fire made a Jewish  / immigrant issue into an American issue. Public outrage soon followed, and was voiced in many scathing cartoons, which pointed out the aggressive greed of factory owners,

and the inadequacy of legal regulations:

"In Compliance with the Law"

The outpouring of grief and sympathy over the fire was expertly harnessed by unions. The leadership of people like Clara Lemlich Shavelson galvanized the women’s movement, immigrant and worker’s rights, and labor reform– all of which are furiously contested even today.

In direct response to the fire and pressure from unions, the New York Legislature enacted laws requiring automatic sprinklers in high-rise buildings, mandatory fire drills at large companies and factory doors that swung out. Labor regulations grew out of the fire, including a 54-hour week for women and child workers. In 1912 the New York State Legislature passed eight bills proposed by the Factory Investigating Committee, covering conditions and dangers including sanitation, rest periods, child labor, recent mothers, hour limits for women and children, and on-the-job injuries. And in 1913, the NYS Legislature passed 25 more bills recommended by the Fire Investigating Committee including fireproof stairways, doorway width, amount of lighting, fireproof building material, safe construction of fire escapes, and more. The unions even achieved a pension system for those too old to work any longer, all ideas that Franklin Roosevelt would bring nationwide in the New Deal (1933 – 36). In the two decades after the Triangle fire, the city building code was revised to require more exits in tall buildings (in the 1960s, just as the World Trade Center was being designed, those exit requirements slackened to increase the amount of rentable space).

Basic physical safety improved, but the discrepancy between wealthy corporations and the struggling factory worker remained a problem, as evidenced by the portrayal of this class struggle in film. Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927) famously portrays factory life and shocking class divisions, complete with aloof bosses and an entire self-appointed master race that unwittingly exploits the workers toiling deep underground. The technology-driven culture dehumanizes the workers while allowing the elite to live in a decadent paradise, willfully ignorant of those who make their world function — does this sound familiar?

Metropolis factory still

Charlie Chaplin more humorously– but not less poignantly– portrayed the frenzied monotony of a factory job in Modern Times (1936). The awesome first 10 minutes are below:

His boss looms over him in gigantic TV screens, even while taking a smoking break in the bathroom (3:45). His body becomes so tuned to his single task that when he leaves for the day, the action becomes a tic he can’t shake (with hilarious but nonetheless poignant consequences, mistaking anything vaguely resembling a nut and bolt– like buttons on a woman’s skirt or blouse– for something he needs to tweak with his wrenches (6:35).

CURRENT RELEVANCE

Though significant progress was made in the years and decades after the Triangle Factory fire, the issues at play then are sadly relevant today. Women still make a fraction of their male counterparts in almost all career paths. Only last year, 29 West Virginia miners died in the Massey Energy mine that had received 1,100 safety violations (including improper escape routes) but which was still allowed to operate for some reason. Currently 80,000 laborers work in New York State farms, who can be fired for attempting to unionize or to improve their working conditions (they are not eligible for overtime pay, disability, or unemployment insurance). Wage theft (the illegal withholding of owed pay) remains a rampant problem; unscrupulous employers who refuse to pay their non-unionized employees, denying their workers of needed payment and skirting taxes that could pay for teachers, pubic programs, public transportation, etc. 20th century unions did great work establishing laws for worker safety, but these laws are regularly violated. In the report “Working Without Laws,” the National Employment Law Project (NELP) documented that 21% of workers in the sample had been paid less than the legally required minimum wage ($7.25 per hour in New York state) in the previous week; 77% were not paid the legally required overtime rate when they worked more than 40 hours; 70% did not receive legally required meal breaks; and 42% of those who had complained or attempted to establish a union experienced a form of illegal retaliation by the employer.

The Jewish Forward rightly urges us to “Think about what was going on in 1911 — fierce competition among manufacturers, a large pool of under-skilled labor, lack of essential safety and economic regulations and generally uncaring attitudes about workers’ conditions, rights and welfare. This all-too-familiar scenario hasn’t gone away at all, and only labor’s vigilance will keep it from returning to our door here at home.” It is possible to produce a profitable product and pay living wages, though this is still seen as risky because ethical companies like Knights Apparel are competing with sweatshops. It’s clear that corporations will not do this willingly. Denis Hughes, president of New York State’s AFL-CIO, pointed out unions have been villainized in part because they don’t get credit for admirable actions like lobbying for legislation to cover health care costs for rescue workers injured after 9/11 (Jon Stewart was more loudly credited). “It was a tremendous win, but it wasn’t reported as ‘a labor victory,’” Hughes said. Peter Ward, head of New York Hotel and Motel Trades Council points to the corporate control over mainstream media as root problem of union’s nonexistent or unflattering publicity. Ward pointed out “We had the largest financial crime in history culminate in 2008. We had major mortgage brokers falsifying documents, huge investment firms participating in what can only be described as Ponzi schemes. The entire world knows it. But somehow unions are taking the hit for the resulting fiscal crisis.”

Injustices perpetrated against immigrant workers were (and are) injustices against America and humanity at large. In the midst of all these anti-immigrant laws (Arizona), how quickly we forget that America was built by immigrants. We are practically all descendents of immigrants who fled their respective countries for better lives in this so-called land of opportunity.  As the garment and textile industry has shrunk in America (moved overseas for even cheaper labor), the textile and garment unions have shrunk. Largely supported by Yiddish socialists, these unions have been instrumental in fighting for basic worker and civil rights, in and out of the garment industry. Our country is in a serious financial crisis, and yes, we all must make concessions. But it’s downright unethical to ask those who would have the flimsiest job security, the lowest wages, to sacrifice those privileges we should all have. As a freelancer who would pay (even more) exorbitant amounts for basic health care without the collective bargaining of organizations like the Freelancer’s Union or Media Bistro, I feel the attack on unions is an attack on me, too. The Triangle Factory fire was important because it transcended the garment industry, the “Jewish problem”, and even the working class. It was an American failure, and the current attacks on women, immigrants, workers, and unions remain an American failure.

Wisconsin Union rally in Jefferson, MO, Feb 2011

Further resources:

• PBS documentary on the Triangle factory, viewable online
• wonderful pictoral timeline of the evolution of the shirtwaist style
• PBS premiered the film “Made in LA” in the fall of 2007, documenting recent sweatshop abuses in Southern California.
• the Jewish Women’s Archive Top 10 Jewish Women in Labor History
• excellent Cornell website outlining the Triangle Factory Fire: photos, primary sources, reform, unions, commemoration
• NYU exhibition “The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire: One Hundred Years After” through May

Beach Scene: Woman Wearing Striped Hat and Dark Jacket, Coney Island, New York, 1960s

A few months ago I had the delight of popping into the Met’s modestly-sized exhibition “Hipsters, Hustlers, and Handball Players: Leon Levinstein’s New York Photographs, 1950–1980.” From the Met’s website description: “Leon Levinstein (1910–1988), an unheralded master of street photography, is best known for his candid and unsentimental black-and-white figure studies made in New York City neighborhoods from Times Square and the Lower East Side to Coney Island…. In 1975, Levinstein received a grant from the Guggenheim Foundation to ‘photograph as wide a spectrum of the American scene as my experience and vision will allow….I want my photographs to be spontaneous rather than contrived.’ ” Though I found some of the date estimations of the photos in the exhibition to be suspect (Levinstein didn’t date them himself), I fell in love with Levinstein’s distinctly unglamorous work in those few rooms.

Street Scene: Two Men Wearing Hats and Plaid Jackets, New York City, 1970s

He probably would not have said he was a “fashion photographer,” but Levinstein most certainly would’ve achieved more fame if he’d lived in this age of street fashion blogs; as it was, he had difficulty transitioning from amateur to professional assignments, which is why he’s not very well-known. He favored low-to-the-ground camera angles that often cropped the heads of his subjects or caught them walking away from him, focusing on their bodies, postures, clothes, and interaction with their environments while running errands, adjusting themselves, preening, and relaxing / passing out. His photography style feels covert and dynamic, you get the idea he may have been like a flasher — skulking about the streets, exposing his camera in a sudden gesture so hurried he barely had time to aim properly before dashing away.

Street Scene: Woman with White Purse, New York City, 1960s

Unlike many street fashion photographers, Levinstein didn’t discriminate against unattractive, strange-looking, or vaguely desperate people — in fact, he favored them. Overweight housewives, semi-homeless junkies, hippies and hoodlums captured his attention (a man after my own heart!).

Street Scene: Portly Man Holding Belt, New York City, 1970s

Street Scene: Exhausted Woman Seated on Stoop, New York City, 1970s

There’s a distinct grittiness of New York of of the late-mid 20th century that Levinstein depicts with aplomb, both in his human subjects and their dirty, grimy, trashy environments (sometimes literally):

Some of them reminded me of John Water’s portrayal of Baltimore in the ’60s (I adore the crazy looks this woman — if she is actually a woman — is getting from the onlookers!):

Street Scene: Woman in Blonde Wig and Tight Dress, New York City, 1960s

I love to watch my DVD of Hairspray (the original 1988 version, certainly not the remake) with John Waters’ commentary. He’s constantly giggling at his own film, saying things like, “You might think Divine looks ridiculous as a rotund drag queen haus frau, but housewives in Baltimore really looked like that in the ’60s!!”

Divine and Ricki Lake as Edna and Tracy Turnblad in Hairspray

Atypical for portraits in their unflattering realism, I think Levinstein imbued quite a bit of dignity into many of his down-and-out subjects. Emaciated and somewhat weather-worn in his rumpled shirt, this man is nonetheless portrayed somewhat heroically, with a majestic low-to-high camera angle and a bust that commands the whole frame:

Man, Mill's Hotel, 1951

Even if dignity was not exactly conveyed, maybe just a lack of judgment? For example, the title of this one could’ve been far more condemning: “Hooker Exposing Her T&A to Potential Customer” instead of the more ambiguous “Woman in Shorts Leaning into Window of Parked Car.”

Street Scene: Woman in Shorts Leaning into Window of Parked Car, New York City, 1970s

As in Kirchner’s Berlin Street Scenes (see my earlier article), prostitutes and Johns were just part of the city landscape, with no moral denouncement:

The Red Cocotte, 1914-15

What was unique about Levinstein was that he portrayed of a range of ethnicities and ages, and he focused both on people who clearly took time with their self-presentation (in many cases this was because they were hustlers and hookers),

Street Scene: Two Young Men on Street, One Wearing Stars and Stripes Outfit, New York City, 1970s

as well as those who didn’t seem to care (yes, that is a paper bag over what must be extremely high hair).

Beach Scene: Woman Wearing Paper Bag Hat, Coney Island, New York, 1950s

I have to say that this image reminds me of another John Water’s movie, the distinctly un-family-friendly Pink Flamingos (1972), with Edie the Egg Lady, with their similar un self-conscious sprawls and high hair:

Edith Massey as Edie the Egg Lady in Pink Flamingos

Most of the world wears somewhat generic clothing that blends more than it stands out, vaguely dictated by the decade’s trends. And yet street fashion blogs often concentrate on extraordinary sidewalk specimens, and while that’s fun to browse through, it’s not really an accurate representation of what street culture is/was like. Levinstein unflinchingly portrayed a rough economic patch in New York City’s history that’s often glossed over, as reflected through people’s clothes, attitudes, and distinctly urban (a.k.a. downtrodden) settings. He didn’t romanticize poverty or desperation, he merely recorded it, something few portrait photographers tackle (Jacob A. Riis’ incredible How the Other Half Lives of 1890, and to some extent August Sander’s People of the 20th Century of the ’20s – ’40s, and Irving Penn’s Small Trades of the ’50s accomplished this too). In an age where the most popular street fashion blogs (The Sartorialist, Stylites in Beijing, Bill Cunningham’s photos for the Times, etc.) are about the beautiful, creative, hip, fashion-conscious metropolitan youth, it’s downright refreshing to see portrait photography that imbues street style with social commentary, capturing inequality, imperfections, and the struggle for existence into the street fashion.

Further Reading:

• “Met’s collection database of Levinstein’s work
• How the Other Half Lives by Jacob A. Riis
• Small Trades by Irving Penn

Recommend this Post:

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Anais Nin grappled with complex self-identity issues that were revealed in her sartorial selections as much as her overtly philosophical prose. It’s unclear if Nin herself realized the extent to which she used fashion to act out her desires: to glamorize herself and seduce, and alternately to conceal and protect herself. But her numerous and detailed descriptions of her own outfits, how she believed others saw her, how she consistently compared her so-called inferior body to other women’s idealized ones all contribute greatly to the reader’s understanding of this complex woman. She attempted to literally cloak her dark side: her jealousy, imperfections, anger, (bi)sexuality, and fear of abandonment.

Nin struggled with dysmorphia of her physical body and the “multiplicity” of her emotional and intellectual selves. These fragments were often expressed through Nin’s unusual sartorial style, illuminating her hidden fragility, her insecurities, her self-consciousness, but also her bolder sexual desires and her pride. She was preoccupied by her prepubescent-seeming body, even as her numerous lovers expressed no dissatisfaction. Anais used her clothes to exoticize herself, to beautify the unusual looks she perceived as ugly. Inversely, when she met a friend with the intention of deflecting his advances, she dressed “like a warrior, to defend myself against possession.” She admitted, through therapy and written self reflection, she was afraid of being hurt. It follows that the high collars, long skirts, and layers became her armor, protecting her from everything that might penetrate or harm her body, and by extension, her ego.

Nin used the exchanging and gifting of garments– often overstepping her budget to do so– to initiate intimacy and display tenderness. Nin gave June Miller her own sandals, perfume, and handkerchief, metaphorically handing her own identity to her rival (as Henry Miller’s legitimate wife), and as her own future lover. Dressing June satisfied Nin’s desire to feel useful, wanted, loved, and understood (literally walking in the same shoes), but this also highlighted the numerous remaining differences between the women, contributing to Nin’s confused perceptions of self image, self worth, and sexual identity.

Nin also used fashion as a method of distancing herself, as with her superficial, absentee father. During their reunion he told Nin she had become “beautiful by suffering.” He took perverse pleasure in having contributed to the suffering that transformed her. Nin noted with annoyance and confusion that as they became closer he wanted “me to dress conventionally and discreetly… completely artificial, insincere, snobbish…. My artist friends like slovenliness, even shabbiness…. Somewhere in between lies Anais, who wants a free life but not a shabby one.” Once again, clothes and appearance were at the heart of her identity crisis, but perhaps also of her breakthrough. “Once the deforming mirror is smashed, there is a possibility of wholeness; there is a possibility of joy.” There is a possibility of light illuminating the shadows of Anais’ psyche.