From Publishers Weekly
These insights from former Glamour and Mademoiselle editor Lee will last longer than the fleeting women's and men's fashion trends she explores. Her work scrutinizes the co-conspirators who make up a $200-billion business-designers, manufacturers, the fashion press, garment workers, unions, retail outlets and, ultimately, consumers-and she spares no one. After an introduction to "The Fashion Victim's Ten Commandments" (including "thou shalt pay more to appear poor" and "thou shalt be a walking billboard") and a brief review of the history of Western clothing styles, Lee identifies key trends in today's fashion culture. Trends are quickly born in couture and extend to the mass market through manufacturing innovation. But they're declared dead as soon as they reach Kmart and other chains that offer essentially the same clothing at a fraction of the cost. Still, while the price tag may be low, there are high costs, including the exploitation of garment workers; damaging of the environment by manufacturing; criminal networks caused by mob infiltration of unions; and the problem of women striving for unattainable bodies to fit into clothes designed for professional models. Lee's casual tone-she frequently refers to what the Fashion Victim (who may or may not be the reader) would do in a given situation-belies the seriousness of her findings, but her informal prose doesn't make the book any less convincing of the problems associated with being a slave to fashion.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
With a fire akin to that demonstrated in Rachel Carson's Silent Spring (1900), former magazine editor Lee sets off to debunk the follies and foibles of fashion. Along the way, the mirror she holds up reflects the reader--and her (mostly female) readers and their obsession with fashion. Many recent media headlines become the major discussion points: the homogeneity of chain retailers and its cultural impact; the influence of news coverage; the "be thin" compulsion; sweatshop issues; high-fashion pain; to fur or not, among other topics. Certain statistics will amaze readers, including the fact that 85 percent of "real furry" pelts come from farmed animals. What's more, some of her soliloquies (and occasional conversations) are quite sad; a discourse on magazine photographs underscores the mental conflict and anguish many readers undergo when viewing and comparing almost anorexic fashion models. By no means does she intend her research to condemn the industry; rather, she hopes it will spark a higher awareness among "fashion victims" so they can determine the industry's influence on themselves--and not vice versa. Barbara Jacobs
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Review
"Let’s face it--we're not finding a cure to eradicate a deadly disease, only bad taste… Michelle Lee has found an exclusive and illusive entrée into this world where all that glitters is not gold. Fashion Victim is informative and absolutely fabulous."
-Phillip Bloch, Celebrity Stylist
"With relentless precision, Michelle Lee dissects the maddeningly incomprehensible, pretentious world of fashion and exposes the gangrene within."
-Simon Doonan, author of Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales from the Life of Fashion
"Michelle Lee's smart and sassy investigation behind the smoke and mirrors of fashion's hypnotic appeal is a must-read for anyone who has succumbed to the temptations of shoulder pads, toe socks, and a Dorothy Hamill wedge."
–John Bartlett, Fashion Designer
"Fashion Victim reveals anything and everything you ever wanted to know about fashion and more....much more!"
–Lauren Esersky, Columnist, Paper Magazine and host, "Behind the Velvet Ropes"
"Fashion Victim" shines a light at the back of our closets, and exposes the true spirit of modern dressing. A fun, informative read that's bound to elevate us far beyond our stilettos..."
–Jeanne Beker, host of Fashion Television on Saturday
“Michelle Lee casts a clever balance between appreciating fashion's seduction and recognizing its transparency. She eloquently exploits everything that fashion is, revealing how even the savviest of aficionados can fall prey to becoming a victim, too.”
–Christene Barberich, Executive Editor, CITY Magazine
-Phillip Bloch, Celebrity Stylist
"With relentless precision, Michelle Lee dissects the maddeningly incomprehensible, pretentious world of fashion and exposes the gangrene within."
-Simon Doonan, author of Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales from the Life of Fashion
"Michelle Lee's smart and sassy investigation behind the smoke and mirrors of fashion's hypnotic appeal is a must-read for anyone who has succumbed to the temptations of shoulder pads, toe socks, and a Dorothy Hamill wedge."
–John Bartlett, Fashion Designer
"Fashion Victim reveals anything and everything you ever wanted to know about fashion and more....much more!"
–Lauren Esersky, Columnist, Paper Magazine and host, "Behind the Velvet Ropes"
"Fashion Victim" shines a light at the back of our closets, and exposes the true spirit of modern dressing. A fun, informative read that's bound to elevate us far beyond our stilettos..."
–Jeanne Beker, host of Fashion Television on Saturday
“Michelle Lee casts a clever balance between appreciating fashion's seduction and recognizing its transparency. She eloquently exploits everything that fashion is, revealing how even the savviest of aficionados can fall prey to becoming a victim, too.”
–Christene Barberich, Executive Editor, CITY Magazine
Book Description
A riveting look inside the fashion world that exposes the truth about shopaholics, sweatshops, and celebrity closets.
Fashion—from the $1500 Prada bag to the $30 Kate Spade knock-off sold on the sidewalk—has been transformed from a commodity reserved for the elite to a powerful presence in mass market culture. As a society, we are obsessed with fashion and style, racking up credit card debt to support compulsive shopping habits, scouring magazines for the latest trends to buy, and focusing more on who’s wearing what at the Oscars than on who’s winning. In Fashion Victim, award-winning journalist Michelle Lee blows the lid off the fashion industry, and spotlights the fascinating—and often disturbing--ways in which it is morphing our culture, our economy and our values.
Dishing on the lords of the label, including designers like Donna Karan, Calvin Klein, and Kenneth Cole, Fashion Victim reveals a world that is sometimes grotesque, sometimes glitzy, but constantly intriguing. From bear hides to the Victorian bustle, Lee traces the role of fashion through the ages, taking us from the dawn of ready-to-wear in 1865 to the modern trend cycles that incite us to clamor after leg warmers, bumster trousers, and Manolo Blahniks. She details the birth of “Speed Chic”—the hamster wheel of style that keeps us stuck in an endless cycle of consumption and has become the crack-cocaine of fashion, providing us with a temporary high until we spot the next trend and reach for our wallets. She also explores the phenomenon of “McFashion,” the uncanny proliferation of retailers like the Gap and Old Navy that are creeping into every town in America and stripping us—and the designers they knock off--of individuality and innovation. And she ultimately probes the human cost of fashion’s decadence, including the distorted perceptions of beauty fueled by high-end designers, the dangers of dry cleaning, and the ugly financial disparity between those who make the clothes and those who buy them.
An unprecedented look behind the runway at the forces and personalities driving this $200 billion dollar industry, Fashion Victim is a stylish, provocative and highly entertaining contribution to the analysis of American popular culture.
Fashion—from the $1500 Prada bag to the $30 Kate Spade knock-off sold on the sidewalk—has been transformed from a commodity reserved for the elite to a powerful presence in mass market culture. As a society, we are obsessed with fashion and style, racking up credit card debt to support compulsive shopping habits, scouring magazines for the latest trends to buy, and focusing more on who’s wearing what at the Oscars than on who’s winning. In Fashion Victim, award-winning journalist Michelle Lee blows the lid off the fashion industry, and spotlights the fascinating—and often disturbing--ways in which it is morphing our culture, our economy and our values.
Dishing on the lords of the label, including designers like Donna Karan, Calvin Klein, and Kenneth Cole, Fashion Victim reveals a world that is sometimes grotesque, sometimes glitzy, but constantly intriguing. From bear hides to the Victorian bustle, Lee traces the role of fashion through the ages, taking us from the dawn of ready-to-wear in 1865 to the modern trend cycles that incite us to clamor after leg warmers, bumster trousers, and Manolo Blahniks. She details the birth of “Speed Chic”—the hamster wheel of style that keeps us stuck in an endless cycle of consumption and has become the crack-cocaine of fashion, providing us with a temporary high until we spot the next trend and reach for our wallets. She also explores the phenomenon of “McFashion,” the uncanny proliferation of retailers like the Gap and Old Navy that are creeping into every town in America and stripping us—and the designers they knock off--of individuality and innovation. And she ultimately probes the human cost of fashion’s decadence, including the distorted perceptions of beauty fueled by high-end designers, the dangers of dry cleaning, and the ugly financial disparity between those who make the clothes and those who buy them.
An unprecedented look behind the runway at the forces and personalities driving this $200 billion dollar industry, Fashion Victim is a stylish, provocative and highly entertaining contribution to the analysis of American popular culture.
From the Back Cover
"Let’s face it--we're not finding a cure to eradicate a deadly disease, only bad taste… Michelle Lee has found an exclusive and illusive entrée into this world where all that glitters is not gold. Fashion Victim is informative and absolutely fabulous."
-Phillip Bloch, Celebrity Stylist
"With relentless precision, Michelle Lee dissects the maddeningly incomprehensible, pretentious world of fashion and exposes the gangrene within."
-Simon Doonan, author of Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales from the Life of Fashion
"Michelle Lee's smart and sassy investigation behind the smoke and mirrors of fashion's hypnotic appeal is a must-read for anyone who has succumbed to the temptations of shoulder pads, toe socks, and a Dorothy Hamill wedge."
–John Bartlett, Fashion Designer
"Fashion Victim reveals anything and everything you ever wanted to know about fashion and more....much more!"
–Lauren Esersky, Columnist, Paper Magazine and host, "Behind the Velvet Ropes"
"Fashion Victim" shines a light at the back of our closets, and exposes the true spirit of modern dressing. A fun, informative read that's bound to elevate us far beyond our stilettos..."
–Jeanne Beker, host of Fashion Television on Saturday
“Michelle Lee casts a clever balance between appreciating fashion's seduction and recognizing its transparency. She eloquently exploits everything that fashion is, revealing how even the savviest of aficionados can fall prey to becoming a victim, too.”
–Christene Barberich, Executive Editor, CITY Magazine
-Phillip Bloch, Celebrity Stylist
"With relentless precision, Michelle Lee dissects the maddeningly incomprehensible, pretentious world of fashion and exposes the gangrene within."
-Simon Doonan, author of Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales from the Life of Fashion
"Michelle Lee's smart and sassy investigation behind the smoke and mirrors of fashion's hypnotic appeal is a must-read for anyone who has succumbed to the temptations of shoulder pads, toe socks, and a Dorothy Hamill wedge."
–John Bartlett, Fashion Designer
"Fashion Victim reveals anything and everything you ever wanted to know about fashion and more....much more!"
–Lauren Esersky, Columnist, Paper Magazine and host, "Behind the Velvet Ropes"
"Fashion Victim" shines a light at the back of our closets, and exposes the true spirit of modern dressing. A fun, informative read that's bound to elevate us far beyond our stilettos..."
–Jeanne Beker, host of Fashion Television on Saturday
“Michelle Lee casts a clever balance between appreciating fashion's seduction and recognizing its transparency. She eloquently exploits everything that fashion is, revealing how even the savviest of aficionados can fall prey to becoming a victim, too.”
–Christene Barberich, Executive Editor, CITY Magazine
About the Author
A frequent contributor to leading fashion publications, Michelle Lee has also held editorial positions at several national magazines, including Glamour, Us Weekly, CosmoGirl and Mademoiselle. In 1997 she won a William Randolph Hearst Award for feature writing. She lives and shops in New York City.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1
The Fashion Victim's Ten Commandments
We Fashion Victims hold certain truths to be self-evident. Without so much as a raised eyebrow, we allow a set of ridiculous, yet compelling, rules to govern our wardrobes, our purchases, our desires, even our own sense of self-worth. It's these unquestioned tenets that have helped bring us to the sorry state we find ourselves in today.
1
THOU SHALT PAY MORE TO APPEAR POOR
It takes a great deal of time and money to look as though you put no effort into dressing. Since a garment today rarely remains a popular item in our wardrobes beyond a few months, we require it to be worn out before we buy it. Fabrics are prewashed and grayed out to appear less new. Designers sew on decorative patches, slash gaping holes into the knees of jeans, and fray the hems. Dresses and shirts are prewrinkled. Jeans are stonewashed, sandblasted, acid-washed, and lightened; they're iron-creased and bleached to "whisker" at the upper-thigh as if they were passed down to you by your mother, who inherited them from her father, who had worn them in the wheat fields a century ago. Designers add "character" to clothes by messing them up, like Helmut Lang's famous $270 paint-spattered jeans. Jeans, blasted and stained dust-brown, by CK, Levi's, and Dolce & Gabbana, cost up to $200. In fact, Calvin Klein's "dirty" jeans sold for $20 more than a pair of his basic, unblemished ones. In 2001, Commes des Gareons produced a peasant dress, priced at a very unpeasantlike $495, described by discount shopping website Bluefly.com as "given a chic tattered look."
Fashion may be bent on newness, but we apparently can't stand it when something looks too new (who can bear the blinding whiteness of new sneakers?). The industry has taken to calling the shabby, imperfect look "distressed"--a word that carries a connotation of pain and suffering. This fashion agony doesn't come cheap, from Jean-Paul Gaultier's distressed leather pants for $1,560 and two-piece distressed leather jacket and bustier for $2,740 to Versace's distressed ball gowns and midpriced shoe maker Aldo's distressed leather pumps for $70.
On most new clothes, a flaw is reason to return a garment to the store; on others, it's a reason to love the garment with even more fervor. The Fashion Victim understands that ready-to-wear clothes are mostly mass produced, and that a handsewn article somehow possesses more soul and uniqueness. Minute blemishes in a fabric's color prove that a gown was hand-dipped by a dressmaker in Paris; slightly raised threads on a vest attest that it was handcrafted by the real wives of authentic sherpas in Nepal. Some clothes, like a sweater I bought years ago, come with tags explaining how the pills and flecks you may see in the fabric are not flaws at all but rather intentional imperfections, there to add to the garment's charm.
In our hunt for substance in style, we covet clothes that evoke the blue-collar world, like the Authentic Prison Blues shirts (actually made by inmates!) that Bruce Willis and Billy Bob Thornton wore in the 2001 movie Bandits. Why do we do it? Fashion is our way of visually signaling to others how we want to be seen, and even though we all want to be considered stylish, we don't want to look like we've put too much planning and money into doing so. Glamour and neatness have their place, but premeditated nonchalance is the Fashion Victim's Holy Grail. We shop at stores like Filthmart, the Manhattan vintage store co-owned by Drea de Matteo of The Sopranos and featuring Hell's Angels-meets-Jewel wares. Hip-hop fans spend exorbitant amounts of cash on urbanwear to prove they're still "street": a pair of denim and Ultrasuede pants from Phat Farm for $150, an Enyce "bulletproof" nylon vest for $97, puffy down jackets from the North Face for $199. Even a simple wifebeater tank top can sell for over $100 if it has the right label. We buy peasant blouses at faux-boho Anthropologie because we want to look like we churn butter on a farm in Provence, or grungy $80 pants at Urban Outfitters to show our downtown cool. For his fall 2002 Marc by Marc Jacobs show, Jacobs sent models down the runway in mismatched grandma knits, oversized seventies scarves, rainbow-striped sweaters, jeans, and corduroys--the ultimate homegrown poor-girl look for the woman who has everything. In early 2000, John Galliano took the dressed-down look one step further: he stunned the fashion crowd in Paris with his Homeless Chic couture show for Christian Dior, featuring models draped in torn clothes held together by string and strewn with kitchen utensils and miniature liquor bottles.
In the world of the Fashion Victim, shopping at a thrift store is cool . . . unless you're actually on welfare and have to buy all your clothes there. Some hard-core fashionistas insist they only shop second hand. But it's usually not all from the buck-a-pound bin at the local thrift store. In recent years, designers like Imitation of Christ who rework vintage and thrift have become hip. The Fashion Victim drools over these born-again garments, which still possess some of the old, dirty charm but at twenty times the price. Today, even the mere implication that a garment is old can suffice. Gap and Abercrombie & Fitch have pilfered the word "vintage" for use on their fresh-from-the-factory shirts and jeans to suggest classic style. Are we really fooled by a crisp new T-shirt that spells Gap Vintage in faded letters?
Today, it's fun to think you're shopping downmarket. "Cheap chic" stores like H&M, Target, Japan's Uniqlo, and Spain's Mango have made fortunes in recent years selling cut-rate trends. But no true fashionista worth her salt would buy her entire wardrobe at one of these stores, so she engages in cheap chic in her own way, to the point at which "cheap" becomes a completely relative term. Moschino's lower-priced line, called Moschino Cheap & Chic, is far from cheap for most shoppers. A "Leopard" coat and scarf retails for $1,340, and a Petal Trim Sweater for $615. Frugality at its finest, indeed.
2
THOU SHALT COVET USELESS UTILITY
To the Fashion Victim, there's nothing wrong with clothes that serve no purpose other than looking cool. But if a garment can create the illusion that it's functional as well, it's all the better. A part of us knows that fashion is frivolous, so we attempt to justify our participation in it by making our clothes seem useful. We're grasping at straws to rationalize making some of our unnecessary purchases. Shirts come with hoods whose sole purpose is to hang behind one's neck. The polar fleece vest was pitched as functional in a climbing-the-Alps sort of way, but if you really wanted something to keep you warm, wouldn't you give it sleeves? Cargo pants, with their multitude of pockets, seemed infinitely useful . . . imagine all the odds and ends you could carry. Countless designers, including Calvin Klein, Gucci, and Versace, interpreted the military style for the runway, and mall retailers followed suit with their versions, like Abercrombie's Paratroops and American Eagle's Cargo Trek Pant. Ralph Lauren even produced an army-green cargo bikini with pockets at the hip (for toting beach grenades?). The fashion world's idealized image of the utilitarian future appears to involve lots of zippers, buckles, Velcro, pull closures, straps, and strings--no matter if they actually serve a purpose or not.
Judging by the creations we've seen of late, fashions of the future won't serve just one purpose--they'll serve purposes we never knew needed serving. In 2001, women's magazines touted a new pair of panty hose that dispense a tiny bit of lotion onto the legs with each wearing. The Fuji Spinning Company in Japan has developed a T-shirt and lace underwear that will give wearers their daily dose of vitamin C. Newly developed shirts can monitor vital signs like heart rate and breathing patterns by using optical fibers that send and receive electrical impulses. For years, techies have drooled over the advent of "smart clothes," ultramodern garments with fully operational computers implanted in them. The first samples, furnished with round-the-clock Internet access, have been revealed in fashion shows at tech conferences, with models wearing headset microphones and built-in keyboard sleeves. For all the innovation that's been shoveled into fashion, you'd think inventors would be able to come up with something truly useful--like snag-proof cashmere sweaters. Is that so much to ask?
3
THOU SHALT OWN MINUTELY DIFFERING VARIATIONS OF THE SAME THING
At least part of the Fashion Victim's closet looks like that of a cartoon character, with rows of essentially identical items hanging next to one another. There are multiple pairs of sneakers: a pair for running, a pair for walking, a pair for shopping, a pair for going out, a pair for jeans, a pair for shorts. Then there are the multiple pairs of black pants: wide-legged, skinny-legged, fitted, baggy, flat-front, zipper, button-fly, pleated, wool, stretch, rayon, linen. Former Filipino first lady Imelda Marcos, who once famously defended herself by stating, "I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty," surely had some overlapping styles hanging in her gigantic closet.
Fashion Victims own duplicates of items that are just different enough to not be exactly the same. The average American owns seven pairs of blue jeans. Certainly, each pair could be cut and colored differently, but are those seven pairs really that different? Rosa, a twenty-six-year-old office manager in Chicago, owns more than fifteen pairs of navy-blue jeans that she's amassed over the last two years, picking up one or two pairs a month. "Some are regular-waisted, some are boot-cut, others are tapered, one has red stitching on the sides and on the pockets, some are button-fly, some are a bit darker," she explains. "Even though they all look the same, they each...
The Fashion Victim's Ten Commandments
We Fashion Victims hold certain truths to be self-evident. Without so much as a raised eyebrow, we allow a set of ridiculous, yet compelling, rules to govern our wardrobes, our purchases, our desires, even our own sense of self-worth. It's these unquestioned tenets that have helped bring us to the sorry state we find ourselves in today.
1
THOU SHALT PAY MORE TO APPEAR POOR
It takes a great deal of time and money to look as though you put no effort into dressing. Since a garment today rarely remains a popular item in our wardrobes beyond a few months, we require it to be worn out before we buy it. Fabrics are prewashed and grayed out to appear less new. Designers sew on decorative patches, slash gaping holes into the knees of jeans, and fray the hems. Dresses and shirts are prewrinkled. Jeans are stonewashed, sandblasted, acid-washed, and lightened; they're iron-creased and bleached to "whisker" at the upper-thigh as if they were passed down to you by your mother, who inherited them from her father, who had worn them in the wheat fields a century ago. Designers add "character" to clothes by messing them up, like Helmut Lang's famous $270 paint-spattered jeans. Jeans, blasted and stained dust-brown, by CK, Levi's, and Dolce & Gabbana, cost up to $200. In fact, Calvin Klein's "dirty" jeans sold for $20 more than a pair of his basic, unblemished ones. In 2001, Commes des Gareons produced a peasant dress, priced at a very unpeasantlike $495, described by discount shopping website Bluefly.com as "given a chic tattered look."
Fashion may be bent on newness, but we apparently can't stand it when something looks too new (who can bear the blinding whiteness of new sneakers?). The industry has taken to calling the shabby, imperfect look "distressed"--a word that carries a connotation of pain and suffering. This fashion agony doesn't come cheap, from Jean-Paul Gaultier's distressed leather pants for $1,560 and two-piece distressed leather jacket and bustier for $2,740 to Versace's distressed ball gowns and midpriced shoe maker Aldo's distressed leather pumps for $70.
On most new clothes, a flaw is reason to return a garment to the store; on others, it's a reason to love the garment with even more fervor. The Fashion Victim understands that ready-to-wear clothes are mostly mass produced, and that a handsewn article somehow possesses more soul and uniqueness. Minute blemishes in a fabric's color prove that a gown was hand-dipped by a dressmaker in Paris; slightly raised threads on a vest attest that it was handcrafted by the real wives of authentic sherpas in Nepal. Some clothes, like a sweater I bought years ago, come with tags explaining how the pills and flecks you may see in the fabric are not flaws at all but rather intentional imperfections, there to add to the garment's charm.
In our hunt for substance in style, we covet clothes that evoke the blue-collar world, like the Authentic Prison Blues shirts (actually made by inmates!) that Bruce Willis and Billy Bob Thornton wore in the 2001 movie Bandits. Why do we do it? Fashion is our way of visually signaling to others how we want to be seen, and even though we all want to be considered stylish, we don't want to look like we've put too much planning and money into doing so. Glamour and neatness have their place, but premeditated nonchalance is the Fashion Victim's Holy Grail. We shop at stores like Filthmart, the Manhattan vintage store co-owned by Drea de Matteo of The Sopranos and featuring Hell's Angels-meets-Jewel wares. Hip-hop fans spend exorbitant amounts of cash on urbanwear to prove they're still "street": a pair of denim and Ultrasuede pants from Phat Farm for $150, an Enyce "bulletproof" nylon vest for $97, puffy down jackets from the North Face for $199. Even a simple wifebeater tank top can sell for over $100 if it has the right label. We buy peasant blouses at faux-boho Anthropologie because we want to look like we churn butter on a farm in Provence, or grungy $80 pants at Urban Outfitters to show our downtown cool. For his fall 2002 Marc by Marc Jacobs show, Jacobs sent models down the runway in mismatched grandma knits, oversized seventies scarves, rainbow-striped sweaters, jeans, and corduroys--the ultimate homegrown poor-girl look for the woman who has everything. In early 2000, John Galliano took the dressed-down look one step further: he stunned the fashion crowd in Paris with his Homeless Chic couture show for Christian Dior, featuring models draped in torn clothes held together by string and strewn with kitchen utensils and miniature liquor bottles.
In the world of the Fashion Victim, shopping at a thrift store is cool . . . unless you're actually on welfare and have to buy all your clothes there. Some hard-core fashionistas insist they only shop second hand. But it's usually not all from the buck-a-pound bin at the local thrift store. In recent years, designers like Imitation of Christ who rework vintage and thrift have become hip. The Fashion Victim drools over these born-again garments, which still possess some of the old, dirty charm but at twenty times the price. Today, even the mere implication that a garment is old can suffice. Gap and Abercrombie & Fitch have pilfered the word "vintage" for use on their fresh-from-the-factory shirts and jeans to suggest classic style. Are we really fooled by a crisp new T-shirt that spells Gap Vintage in faded letters?
Today, it's fun to think you're shopping downmarket. "Cheap chic" stores like H&M, Target, Japan's Uniqlo, and Spain's Mango have made fortunes in recent years selling cut-rate trends. But no true fashionista worth her salt would buy her entire wardrobe at one of these stores, so she engages in cheap chic in her own way, to the point at which "cheap" becomes a completely relative term. Moschino's lower-priced line, called Moschino Cheap & Chic, is far from cheap for most shoppers. A "Leopard" coat and scarf retails for $1,340, and a Petal Trim Sweater for $615. Frugality at its finest, indeed.
2
THOU SHALT COVET USELESS UTILITY
To the Fashion Victim, there's nothing wrong with clothes that serve no purpose other than looking cool. But if a garment can create the illusion that it's functional as well, it's all the better. A part of us knows that fashion is frivolous, so we attempt to justify our participation in it by making our clothes seem useful. We're grasping at straws to rationalize making some of our unnecessary purchases. Shirts come with hoods whose sole purpose is to hang behind one's neck. The polar fleece vest was pitched as functional in a climbing-the-Alps sort of way, but if you really wanted something to keep you warm, wouldn't you give it sleeves? Cargo pants, with their multitude of pockets, seemed infinitely useful . . . imagine all the odds and ends you could carry. Countless designers, including Calvin Klein, Gucci, and Versace, interpreted the military style for the runway, and mall retailers followed suit with their versions, like Abercrombie's Paratroops and American Eagle's Cargo Trek Pant. Ralph Lauren even produced an army-green cargo bikini with pockets at the hip (for toting beach grenades?). The fashion world's idealized image of the utilitarian future appears to involve lots of zippers, buckles, Velcro, pull closures, straps, and strings--no matter if they actually serve a purpose or not.
Judging by the creations we've seen of late, fashions of the future won't serve just one purpose--they'll serve purposes we never knew needed serving. In 2001, women's magazines touted a new pair of panty hose that dispense a tiny bit of lotion onto the legs with each wearing. The Fuji Spinning Company in Japan has developed a T-shirt and lace underwear that will give wearers their daily dose of vitamin C. Newly developed shirts can monitor vital signs like heart rate and breathing patterns by using optical fibers that send and receive electrical impulses. For years, techies have drooled over the advent of "smart clothes," ultramodern garments with fully operational computers implanted in them. The first samples, furnished with round-the-clock Internet access, have been revealed in fashion shows at tech conferences, with models wearing headset microphones and built-in keyboard sleeves. For all the innovation that's been shoveled into fashion, you'd think inventors would be able to come up with something truly useful--like snag-proof cashmere sweaters. Is that so much to ask?
3
THOU SHALT OWN MINUTELY DIFFERING VARIATIONS OF THE SAME THING
At least part of the Fashion Victim's closet looks like that of a cartoon character, with rows of essentially identical items hanging next to one another. There are multiple pairs of sneakers: a pair for running, a pair for walking, a pair for shopping, a pair for going out, a pair for jeans, a pair for shorts. Then there are the multiple pairs of black pants: wide-legged, skinny-legged, fitted, baggy, flat-front, zipper, button-fly, pleated, wool, stretch, rayon, linen. Former Filipino first lady Imelda Marcos, who once famously defended herself by stating, "I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty," surely had some overlapping styles hanging in her gigantic closet.
Fashion Victims own duplicates of items that are just different enough to not be exactly the same. The average American owns seven pairs of blue jeans. Certainly, each pair could be cut and colored differently, but are those seven pairs really that different? Rosa, a twenty-six-year-old office manager in Chicago, owns more than fifteen pairs of navy-blue jeans that she's amassed over the last two years, picking up one or two pairs a month. "Some are regular-waisted, some are boot-cut, others are tapered, one has red stitching on the sides and on the pockets, some are button-fly, some are a bit darker," she explains. "Even though they all look the same, they each...
