The Garment Says All?
Citroen, Rick Owens, Spring/Summer 2004
Queen, Rick Owens, Fall/Winter 2004
Moog, Rick Owens, Fall/Winter 2005
I am not sure who reads my ramblings these days, so feel free to just comment on how pretty this or that piece is. But if you should so happen to have the time to read this, thank you. I would bake and send you a cake of your choosing if I could (unless you, like me, are allergic to egg, or do not have a particularly sweet tooth, in which case we can have tea).
Once creativity becomes commodity the possibilities for the thinker to freely explore are inevitably reduced. Audiences have expectations, and money matters, especially where fashion is concerned. The media and buyers (what Kawamura called the 'gatekeepers of fashion') need to be catered to with every collection. Whilst it is easy to have the romantic vision of designers creating without limits and presenting a collection they love each and every season, the reality is never quite so smooth. You need balance - the balance between what sells and what risks you want to take, the balance between spectacle to drum up the press and something substantial that will actually make it to the stores, and so on. As Takeji Hirakawa said "Designers make three types of clothes: things they want to make, things they want to sell, and things that they think will sell well." This balance understandably produces compromises. But there are some designers who seem to find the balance quite naturally, and as such can show an articulate and fully coherent vision most seasons.
Once creativity becomes commodity the possibilities for the thinker to freely explore are inevitably reduced. Audiences have expectations, and money matters, especially where fashion is concerned. The media and buyers (what Kawamura called the 'gatekeepers of fashion') need to be catered to with every collection. Whilst it is easy to have the romantic vision of designers creating without limits and presenting a collection they love each and every season, the reality is never quite so smooth. You need balance - the balance between what sells and what risks you want to take, the balance between spectacle to drum up the press and something substantial that will actually make it to the stores, and so on. As Takeji Hirakawa said "Designers make three types of clothes: things they want to make, things they want to sell, and things that they think will sell well." This balance understandably produces compromises. But there are some designers who seem to find the balance quite naturally, and as such can show an articulate and fully coherent vision most seasons.
I suppose the most obvious example would be Yohji, a designer consciously looking to the past whilst walking backwards into the future, allowing his buyers to pick up pieces from almost any season and combine them. A jacket from a season over a decade ago can be paired with trousers from the current season, and a shirt from next season, and somehow it looks easy and natural. I find myself most drawn to designers who have this confidence and coherence in their design. I suppose it shows that they know themselves, and as such, you know the vibe to expect when you approach their work, even if every new season is full of surprises. And when your thoughts align with those of the designer in any moment, then the result is clothing that has all the more meaning for you.
There has always been something about a designer who jumps around from season to season that, although I find it impressive, sits a little uneasily with me. That is however just my own feeling and pretty much at odds with the way the majority of the fashion industry works, but I would rather support a designer (when it comes to what I actually buy and wear) who I can see is working to refine their voice, rather than one who simply tries to follow the zeitgeist or set a trend. It would seem today that mass market is the buzzword, and so a designer who has a certain dexterity with executing multiple aesthetics is perhaps more appreciated than one who works on a more focused path. I suppose the former is required at houses where the namesake is no longer designing.
There has always been something about a designer who jumps around from season to season that, although I find it impressive, sits a little uneasily with me. That is however just my own feeling and pretty much at odds with the way the majority of the fashion industry works, but I would rather support a designer (when it comes to what I actually buy and wear) who I can see is working to refine their voice, rather than one who simply tries to follow the zeitgeist or set a trend. It would seem today that mass market is the buzzword, and so a designer who has a certain dexterity with executing multiple aesthetics is perhaps more appreciated than one who works on a more focused path. I suppose the former is required at houses where the namesake is no longer designing.
Back to that sense of strong personal aesthetic, I am reminded of the Nomenus Quarterly retrospective on Ann Demeulemeester, a beautiful editorial showing how she has worked at refining her aesthetic over the years. Indeed Ann herself stated that "each collection tells a different story and projects a different mood. Yet, the Ann Demeulemeester style is clear. Whatever we want to express, we do so within our own aesthetic. This enables our clients to gradually construct their wardrobe. You can wear something from ten years ago with something from today, and it will work, because the soul is the same." I like the idea of the same soul being present throughout a designer's work. It reminds of something Yohji said, that he is not worried about people trying to copy him, because he designs using his own voice, and nobody can truly copy that. Originality is not so much in the clothing, although it is apparent therein, but within the skill of the designer.
A strong personal aesthetic on the runway is usually mirrored by a strong personal style of dress with the designer themselves. Whether it be Yohji's uniform, or Rei's uniform, or Azzedine's uniform, there is often a palpable connection between a designer who is secure in their vision with regards to both the runway and what they themselves wear. I have always been fascinated by the idea of personal uniform, which I would argue is simply a very refined visual sense of personal style. We all have a personal uniform, however broad it is, for there are garments or stylistic elements we will return to time and time again. I suppose it is a matter of identifying what those elements are and refining it to our own body and tastes. I think a personal uniform in these cases is far from being restrictive, because it is not a denial of style, but merely a concentration of it. This in turn allows that personal uniform to be natural and reflective of the individual.
I chose to look through a few past collections from Rick Owens because of how strong and easily identifiable his design aesthetic is. I always enjoy looking back at past collections of designers I admire, both in order to see how they have changed and sought improvements, but also to see the threads that connect the tapestry they have created over the years. Rick is particularly interesting in that respect because of his view that everything he will ever create is already there in his mind, he just needs to edit it. I think that idea lends itself quite naturally to self-referential work, especially once a designer has a large body of work. Indeed I enjoy seeing designers referencing themselves and going back to earlier ideas, just to see how they transform those ideas to make them relevant to today. With Rick it is clear to see that his work today contains references to these earlier collections, just as I am sure his collections in the future will contain references to his work today.
I initially looked back at Rick's earlier work after the presentation of Naska (Spring/Summer 2012), seeing immediate references in the men's robes to the long knits of Dustulator (Fall/Winter 2006). Whilst the self-referential nature of his work is something one finds in the work of a number of designers, where designers reference more specific ideas rather than broader themes is at once both more subtle yet more apparent. I suppose to appreciate these references, or as I put it earlier, coherence of aesthetic, it is about knowing the designer. Someone who sees a single collection may form an opinion of the designer that is quite accurate, but one who has seen twenty collections will undoubtedly have a better image of that same designer. Of course one could argue that everything you need know about a designer is contained within a single piece, but I mean in terms of what they are trying to express as a whole, rather than a snapshot of their personality. Although perhaps the latter is more common in an age where we buy pieces from here and there, from a number of designers, whereas previously people would buy into the vision of a designer.
But how does one better understand a designer? Is it simply a matter of having seen collection after collection? Perhaps an even more pertinent question for the modern consumer is whether the designer even needs to be understood? I would say that even if a collection as a whole is not understood, the individual garment needs to be understood, especially when seeking what to wear. This would naturally follow one learning more about a designer and their references. But gaining an understanding of the expression in terms of information alone is problematic. With modern criticism and analysis of the creative arts, the intention of the designer is merely one interpretation amongst many. What the writer had in mind when he wrote the book is on equal footing with what the reader understands of it. You can express yourself using whatever means you have at your disposal, but it may never necessarily be interpreted in the manner in which you intended. Yet that is the beauty of language and art, it is why a painting or a poem may entrance the viewer or reader.
In much the same way I would argue that where fashion is concerned, it is more about the experience of the wearer, rather than some fixed notion of a designer's intentions. We exist in a very real dialogue with our clothing, for the material expression does not end on the runway, it is then bought and sold, and thus used in any multitude of contexts by the wearer. Yohji says that his work is only 90% of the clothing, the other 10% is up to the wearer. It is the way in which we wear the garment that impacts its ultimate meaning. But at the same time, it is the way in which us wearing that garment is interpreted by others that has a greater impact of its meaning, for it never ends simply with us. We take the material outcome of a designer's expression and use it as a tool for our own expression. But perhaps by aligning both of these ideas something more powerful can be expressed. Think of it as using the right tools for the job.
Another reason I say that it is down to the experience of the wearer is because I think understanding fashion in abstract can only get you so far. Words and images are used to represent a very real garment, and yet they are perhaps the furtherest thing away from that tangible reality (here I suppose I ought to recommend Barthes' linguistic study The Fashion System). I can look at a designer's collection through static imagery, or even video, but that never really gives me a full understanding of the clothing. And yet it is the way in which the majority of fashion is constructed and consumed - a series of visual identities laden with multiple meanings far removed from the material object. I would argue that fashion needs to be approached through its functional reality in order to be fully appreciated. Just as words and images about food can never capture the way a certain dish tastes, words and images about fashion can never capture the way a certain garment feels. You have to wear it in order to fully appreciate it, otherwise there will always be a piece missing in your understanding and appreciation of it. I think this applies to all creative expression, whether it be a play (you have to watch it) or a painting (you have to see the original). It has to be experienced as intended in order to be properly appreciated and understood.
Today fashion is consumed mainly through imagery, but no image can tell you how a garment feels against your skin, how it feels when you move, or even just how it looks on your body. I am not saying that you need to try on every collection just to appreciate it, but rather that doing so allows you a glimpse that you may never otherwise get - into the garment and into the designer. Appreciating aesthetics is one thing, but appreciating an individual garment is another thing entirely. Sometimes people forget the latter.