Fashion Week vs. Fashion In The True Sense!

DAAAAHLINGS -

Saturday was a roller-coaster of emotion for yours truly. Truly. I spent some time sitting at the runways for Fashion Week, but I simply had to make it to the Manhattan Vintage Show at the Metropolitan Pavilion. Can anyone say "when worlds collide"?

The Yigal Azrouel show was simply one of the ghastliest shows I have ever attended. It can be summed up in one image:



And this, mind you, was one of the prettiest models in the show. One hideous design after another, worn by women with thighs like pencils and men with bad haircuts who looked like someone had given them a wedgie just before they came out.

The designer mentioned that he was inspired by what his girlfriend likes to wear...he might have to have a few sessions with a therapist to find out if it's really a woman he's sleeping with.

At several shows, people brought their very small children with them, who proceeded to whine and wiggle and in one case, throw up on Anna Wintour. (I only wish it had been Heidi Klum.) Ms. Wintour's calm was admirable--the child and parent were promptly heaved out, pardon the pun, and a lackey immediately brought Ms. Wintour a fresh skirt, while the Vogue editor never took her eyes off the runway. That's the sort of woman I aspire to be.

To go to the Manhattan Vintage Show in the middle of all this...my head swam, dahlings, it simply swam! I walked into the cavernous, freezing space, and saw racks and racks and racks of FASHION IN THE TRUE SENSE!

A silk Dior from 1951! With the original Harpers Bazaar magazine displayed below it.*
1930s voile dresses!
Balenciaga when the name MEANT Balenciaga!
Exquisite white Edwardian tea gowns, covered with embroidery that had made nuns go blind
1920s beaded dresses in every imaginable color! Velvet coats with fur trim!
Pucci, Pucci, and more Pucci!

I was in fashion heaven, dahlings. I not only spent several hours there, I spent several thousand dollars, but what's money? It's only there to be spent, after all.

The only thing that bothered me was this: many of the sellers were quite large, but I did not see much large-size product (pardonnez moi for calling it that). When I queried one seller, she said larger women didn't come to these shows because of the communal dressing rooms! How ridiculous! Not only that, the larger women could only buy accessories for the most part, which is an outrage. Yes, I know Dior didn't design for plus sizes. But even back then there was a 1950s version of Victor Costa busily making knock-offs.

It's a sad state of affairs when the biggest vintage show in the world can only accomodate the smallest women. However, my spirits were still uplifted by being surrounded by so many beautiful clothes, so many sumptous fabrics, furs and feathers.

* The Dior dress and magazine were presented by the Cat's Pajamas Vintage, a fellow Ebay seller and a darling woman.

Then it was back to Fashion Week and the after-parties, but I must confess, I felt a tad depressed. After such opulence, the Fall Ready-To-Wear seemed like so much...not much.

Ciao for now,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog

When Polyester Ruled The Earth! 70s Fashion Fiascos

70s Fashion Fiascos, Collectors Press, 2006

DAHLINGS -

When first 70s Fashion Fiascos: Studio 54 to Saturday Night Fever by Maureen Valdes Marsh crossed my desk, I admit, I screamed in horror. The caftan on the book cover alone was enough to put me in a swoon. But a pleading letter came with it, begging me to give this book my imprimatur.

Look it up.

The letter convinced me to sit down before the fire, Bucky curled in my lap, and skim the pages.

Little did I know that I would be swept up by its contents: a blend of American social history, wit, and truly hideous clothes! Ms. Marsh is a marvelous writer, with a knack for the mot juste. Of leisure suits, she writes, "Color became the key to individuality, and no shade was too effeminate for the 1970s man to wear."

Of course, 70s Vintage Fashion Fiascos is about fashion. As one can guess from the title, it does not mean Fashion In The True Sense. No, it is Fashion Brought Low, Fashion Brought To Its Knees. And not only because women kept falling off their platform shoes. Ms. Valdes knows just how revolting her subjects are (ruffled polyester maxi-dresses, huge plaids, my God, the Unsuit!). Every page is filled with photos, each one more ghastly than the next. And why that horrible fascination with brown??

The author has researched the decade of the 1970s thoroughly, including the sexual liberation movement, The Partridge Family, and of course women's lib. The venerable Barbara Walters is quoted as saying, "I would never wear pants suits on the air...I think the show has more dignity than that." (And now Ms. Walters is working alongside Rosie O'Donnell on The View--how times have changed.) And who knew that it was nurses who managed to bring pantsuits—and pants in general for women—into acceptance in the workplace?

The book is sprinkled throughout with fascinating bits of trivia about the American suburban lifestyle in the 1970s. It was certainly fascinating to moi, as this was my first encounter with what was considered “typical” suburbia…ugh. Since the youth of today has taken a great interest in the clothing of the decade, Ms. Marsh has provided an up-to-date Shopping Resource Guide in the back.

And while this writer (if I may call myself such) simply cannot agree that Pucci and op art have redeeming qualities, this book is well worth the reader's while. It belongs on any bookshelf of those interested in fashion, humor, and of course, the 1970s.

As I gather they used to say, "Can you dig it?"

One can indeed.

Discover more about the book, and the author (who also has a website called Vintage Grace) at this website: http://www.70sfashionfiascos.com

A Footnote:

In her letter, Ms. Marsh said she was certain I had no fashion fiascos in my closet. Flattery, perhaps, but true. However I must make a confession, dear readers.

I have tucked away in my Ebay store a garish nylon robe by Eduardo, a designer who actually studied under Pucci. It has been my secret shame, but now, thanks to Ms. Marsh, I have the courage to unveil it. It is a size Large/Extra Large. And of course, I have many pieces of much finer quality. Please overlook this one lapse. Or purchase it, so that I do not have to look at it any more. (You can find my store in the link on the right, Elisa's Bounteous House of Style.)

Ciao,Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog