Fashion is Dead
There are two types of people in my city: the fanciful couples in Beverly Hills whose glamorous outfits one can’t help but admire, and the indigent homeless on Skid Row whose clothes reek of sewage and poverty. This unique blend of clothing — a trademark for the City of Angels — acts as a stark contrast between the Hollywood glamour and the underdeveloped areas that scatter across our county. While I love modern luxuries, I often find that the visual expression of entropy is what stirs my mind. My childhood experiences with financial adversities and minority struggles embedding in my eyes a lens that unravels something particularly eye-catching about the chaotic mess. The oversized jackets, stained, ripped shirts, and shoes riddled with holes, all emanating their own gritty charm.
Inspired by my interest in discord, I am fascinated by archive and avant-garde clothing made by talented designers who encapsulate their stories, cultures, and history in the garments they make. I appreciate the horrid historical events portrayed by Final Home, the rise of anti-fashion by Martin Margiela and Raf Simons, and the disturbing anatomy expressed by Craig Green. It isn’t the means of impressing others through clothing that intrigues me about fashion, but more so the means to experience moments I would otherwise not obtain.
From my Dolce & Gabbana Combat Rebel Pants made from repurposed military tent fabric, to the alien-like beauty of Jun Takahashi’s SCAB backpack stitched with patches to resemble human scabs as a homage to the chaotic aesthetic of crust punk, fashion offers me a way to find beauty in the unorthodox. To me, cloth represents everything from hopefulness to despair.
“Through fashion, I am able to see mankind’s defiance in the face of death, the nuances of a designer’s childhood, motions I cannot fathom, life starting over, and artists who hold the past and march us into the future as they crystalize a totally different grammar for wearable objects.” Bliss Foster, an expert fashion critic, shares my values and expresses this metaphor as a means to convey the personal connection a few devoted individuals have to this medium of art.
However, what was once valued for its inherent artistic quality and meticulous workmanship, has now been devoured by the capitalist marketing machine that has learned it is far easier to appeal to human emotions. Fashion houses once founded by artisans who created the most detailed pieces have now compromised their creative integrity to please money-hungry corporate tycoons who promote a logo-mania craze that plagues the modern industry.
These people fool consumers into buying products with the purpose to flaunt financial wellbeing. Symbolizing class and wealth, these blatantly obnoxious logos find their way into people’s hearts as they blindly chase after admiration from others. As an avid fashion enthusiast and business student, I’ve become terrified by the extent to which our society has surrendered to the market power, allowing these fads to dictate our lives as we try to obtain self-fulfillment from consuming popular trends as opposed to facing our own emotional immaturity. This topic captivates me as I strive to dissuade others from falling for shady business tactics that prioritize glamour and exclusivity, and instead offer a different perspective of fashion: the beauty of clothing as an expression of humanity.
The problem we face currently isn’t in the consumption of clothing, but rather in using it as a means to satisfy our sense of belonging and self-worth. Fashion was once rich in history and inhabited by brilliant artisans who crafted beautiful couture, challenged traditional silhouettes, revolutionized pattern making, and modernized textile techniques.
But with each passing decade, the industry seems to stray further from its origin, losing a small piece of its creativity and innovation, in exchange for greater profits. Throughout history, the lines between fashion and clothing have largely been blurred, and now with modern consumerism, its become especially difficult to distinguish between the two. Yet in the midst of this muddled grayness, I believe fashion has truly differentiated itself as a commodity by offering historical interpretation rather than social validation. Past designers have utilized clothing as a means to express humanity at its worst and best. From Kosuke Tsumura’s clothes painting a narrative of Japan after the gruesome bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, to Rei Kawakubo’s challenge against gender stereotypes through radical designs, and Helmut Lang’s quintessential minimalism that transformed the beauty in everyday wear, fashion is entrenched in humanity’s stories. To the few remaining fashion devotees who cherish the ingenuity of past generations, fashion differentiates itself by offering us escapism; allowing us to buy into a fantasy of living in an alternate world through the garments we choose to wear.
As we transition into a new era that seems to constantly stifle innovation, I pray that the remaining true artists and designers succeed. Those who sacrifice their own livelihood and financial well-being to create meaningful clothes deserve to be recognized. It isn’t easy to succeed in a marketplace so saturated with creative plagiarism, cheap designs, and unauthentic narratives. But to those individuals who continue to push fashion’s boundaries, I hope they may build upon the past generation of artists, as they balance the designs between fantasy and reality. A delicate harmony between the two, having enough flair to offer us a new perspective, but not so much that we forget about the nature of humanity, which has plenty to celebrate and mourn.
