Another Answer to the Reader of "Manhattan Morning"

In a recent post on Italian novelist Elena Ferrante, I mentioned American artist Marilyn Minter and now I am going to quote her again.

"Fashion is one of the engines of culture. You see who your tribe is by the way they present themselves -- and even if you're someone who doesn't care what you look like or don't put yourself together, that's a tribe!"

So she said in a recent New York Times interview.

I mention that because a reader of my novella, "Manhattan Morning," expressed surprise over what she said was a focus in my book on women's clothing styles.





"I never would have guessed. Where does that come from?"

Here was my response:

The answer is not entirely straightforward, but it mainly has to do with aesthetics.

In 1968, I first arrived in London and lived just off the Kings Road in Chelsea at the height of "Swinging London" when Britain was, for a brief moment, the center of world fashion. There was a constant parade of "the latest" – miniskirts etc. – up and down the Kings Road and the street was lined with boutiques, mostly fairly local in nature as opposed to the now prevalent big names, on both sides. I walked past them every day to and from work and marveled at the incredible scene in general. And of course the London papers were full of fashion stories at that time. 

After two years, I went to Japan where the scene was very different, reinforcing the often-stated notion that we are what we wear. School children always in uniform, “salary men” in their dark suits and white shirts, the occupations of workers of all description easily identifiable by their outfits. We were not immune to that: think of all the blue work shirts people like me wore during our days in college to give a clear signal of our sociopolitical leanings.

I did, however, meet at the Foreign Correspondents Club Japan's one and only internationally recognized designer at that time – Hanae Mori, who mostly made clothes of Japanese fabrics for foreign women. I didn't know her well, but it was a very small scene and her designs were sometimes on display at the club -- and much commented upon. A number of the foreign women I knew in Japan wore her clothing from time to time and I came to appreciate it. 

When I returned to London after five years, the oil crisis, hyperinflation and severe economic recession had intervened, totally wiping out the frothy London that I had previously known. Once again, I lived in Chelsea off the Kings Road and the street was still an exhibition space, although now generally only on weekends. The fashion was Punk and the trendy designer was Vivienne Westwood, located "down the World's End" (the name of a pub) further away from Sloane Square. It was a completely different aesthetic and very reflective of the tenor of the times.  A couple years ago, when the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute mounted a major Punk show, John Lyton authored one of the commentaries for the catalog. When he was known as “Johnny Rotten” of The Sex Pistols fame, he, Sid Vicious and other members of the band drank at “my pub” (next door to my building, where I played darts) from time to time. Everyone knew who they were, but no one bothered them. 

From there I went to Washington DC, where there is no such thing as fashion, and pretty much forgot about it, being deep into the political scene.

But in retirement, I started reading more sections of the New York Times than previously and I read some very interesting fashion commentary -- among other things on the aspirational aspect of women's wear (a very powerful selling point). And as design once again became very prominent, probably in step with soaring incomes in a certain segment of society and with the boom in celebrity culture, I started to realize that the best in clothing design was simply another work of art with the human figure in effect just a canvas. It belonged in museums and as I'm sure you know, can increasingly be found there where the best exhibits are truly astonishing in quality and in ideas.

In "Manhattan Morning," the excuse for talking about such matters is the fact that Dan's former wife was involved in the fashion industry – an enormous source of employment in New York, among other things. But I also tried to get at the notion that fashion can be closely related to art and how humans express sentiments and emotions, and view both themselves and others. This played out in the manner in which Dan linked the Fendi dress he was contemplating to a set of  highly psychological Edvard Munch paintings.