Committing to one’s style
Often, I find myself thinking of Anna Wintour and Hedi Slimane together. Not of them as a joint concept, less a couple, but of them as the epitome of consistency and commitment.
Tomorrow (Nov. 3rd) will be Wintour’s 72nd birthday, and the look-backs on her career, style, and famous quotes will re-emerge to everyone’s feeds. In one of these articles, a while ago now, I found myself scrolling down a timeline of Dame Wintour’s style evolution. As one scrolled to the present, the skirts got longer, the sight of her bare chest was slowly lost, and the bob experimented different phases.
Even if the legs-for-days moments seem gone, and we won’t be seeing her back uncovered anymore (or at least I assume so, but in the sexy 2020s, one can never be too sure) the essence of the Bazaar intern days or the sparkly, sensual, Versace-wearing Anna remains somehow latent in the editor’s style.
The memorable hairstyle may add to the consistency effect –changes in it are slight– but persistency in this character is found in less-visible yet equally powerful details. Think of the just-below-shoulder level sleeves in her dresses or the cashmere cardigans accompanying her Chanel. There is also her jewelry, almost always arranged in 3 layers. And last but not least, you will rarely catch the woman carrying a bag. Perhaps the devil may not always wear Prada, but yes, details.
The mysterious aura around Hedi Slimane’s personal life gives us limited access to his sartorial inclinations. There are no pap-shots or public appearances to provide us with a hint of what the designer wears in his everyday life – aside from scarce appearances at runway show finales – so any commentary on it can be a pure assumption.
Slimane’s way of consistency is found on the runway, though – on his commitment to preserving the aesthetic we’re all well aware of in his collections, no matter the house. From giving birth to the fitted suit at Dior, and shrinking and tightening our pants at Saint Laurent, to making us want to feel French –and young –at Celine, Hedi Slimane is a rebellious when it comes to his views, because he –and his aesthetic– come as a package. I like to believe that the work of such creatives like Hedi is not being a hit-maker, but a legacy-builder.
Commitment to a consistent, specific style naturally makes us look a certain way; we become a brand of ourselves. Our inclination towards a certain aesthetic or garment turns into our signature look, opening the space for us to become a reference point when referring to these. Some successful examples would sound: “navy coats are so this person” or “that English vibe reminds me of that other person,” and the list goes on.
BUT, is there a moment where committing to our brand too much becomes limitative? To the point that can be frustrating? How do we defeat that?
We have to be aware that some factors may cross our way, like availability. And for explaining how it can become a limitation, I would like to address a somewhat controversial topic: sustainability.
Let’s say that I, Sebastian, committed from now on to be a sustainable person. He only thrifts, he only vegan-leathers, he uniquely fair-labors. Though the sustainable offer broadens every day more, it still has a lot to cover, and the desire for that beautiful Saint Laurent wool/something coat of mysterious origin is giving him troubled sleep. Is Sebastian –at that point of *really* wanting something– willing to betray his brand, beliefs, and overall ethics, to fulfill a title/image he has given himself? It sounds frustrating, not Furstenberg.
Statements as “I will never wear denim” are strong, and change is undeniable. Building a consistent character/style will come with challenges, as mentioned above. We are so devoted to our brand that it can be both our greatest strength and biggest weakness.
Fashion Fragility
Some weeks ago, while listening to Lady Gaga’s song “Hair,” a lyric at the beginning of the song caught my attention:
And in the morning, I'm short of my identity
I scream Mom and Dad:
"Why can't I be who I wanna be?"
In the song, Gaga (I believe) uses hair as a metaphor to speak about one’s identity, beliefs, and even the right to freedom of expression. Inferring that when we’re short of it –or different from what we want it to be– we lose ourselves.
The lyrics and the metaphor reminded me of a time when I felt genuinely affected by someone commenting on the way I was dressing for a certain occasion. In an outfit in which I found strength and security, someone else saw a flaw, and boy, it hurt. It made me reflect on fashion as our weak point. Something so personal that, if attacked, undeniably hurts our soul. Is our fashion in direct relation with our dignity?
I would like to hear from you: if you have been in a similar situation, how do you let it not affect you?
Throwback
Ah, the good old days, who doesn't miss them?
Recently, in France, I came across a specimen I thought was extinct. A creature so rare these days, that I had to stay quiet as not to scare it away. Modernity had made this exemplar rare, so rare that for the eyes of those moved by nostalgia, it became almost a prey.
Without further ado, let me present you to: A MAN WEARING A FANNY PACK THE OLD, ORIGINAL WAY.
Dog of the week
Something I read
Another Lebanon: a journey back in time
The Newest Power Player in Luxury’s First Family (please watch him play the piano)
A Fashion I Liked
My friend Kemal’s Hyena pattern lycra skin top. They’re great. I want one.
Follow him here: @kemal.yjlmaz