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Pretty used to being with Gwyneth

Regrets that her mother did not smoke

Frank in all directions

Jean Cocteau and Jean Marais

Simply cannot go back to them

Roll your eyes at Samuel Beckett

John Gregory Dunne and Joan Didion

Metaphors with eyes

Life of Mary MacLane

Circle what it is you want

Not really talking about women, just Diane

Felicity's disguise

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Entries in FASHION (15)

Wednesday
Apr162014

In Which We Recline In A Zebra-Striped Bathtub

Science Is Over

by HELEN SCHUMACHER

At the dawn of the 1980s, no one’s wardrobe was complete without a pair of Fiorucci jeans. Preferably you would have seven of the skin-tight pairs — one in every color of the rainbow, to be worn with your gold Fiorucci cowboy boots. When he turned 15, Marc Jacobs "saved and saved" for his first pair. Miuccia Prada has claimed to have only ever owned one pair of jeans; they were from Fiorucci. Diana Ross, Jackie Onassis, and Lauren Bacall were fans, as was every 13-year-old girl with a Seventeen magazine subscription.

Elio Fiorucci opened his first shop in Milan in 1967 not with couture in mind, but with the idea of bringing the London street trends of the Youthquake movement to Italy. The Fiorucci line debuted shortly after in 1970. However, Elio was a marketing whiz with a taste for the outré, not a designer. The clothing reflected this; much of the line consisted of basics like polo shirts, denim jackets, and tote bags emblazoned with Fiorucci’s winged putti logo.

To Elio’s credit, before Fiorucci, designer denim was unheard of. The company was also one of the first to embrace a global aesthetic, importing not just English looks, but also drawing inspiration from traditional prints and fashions of India and Brazil, with Fiorucci sending young trendspotters around the world (or downtown) to scout for unique local styles to be reproduced by the label. "What he had done was to capture a kind of international ideal of teenage promise and bottle it," said Eve Babitz, author of Fiorucci: The Book.

While the garish fashions of Fiorucci may have rarely made the pages of Women’s Wear Daily, the stores’ parties did. The opening of the Beverly Hills store was famously shut down by the Los Angeles fire department. A year later, Blondie held a post-concert party in the same store to celebrate their album Parallel Lines going platinum. Attendees Wilt Chamberlain, James Woods, and Karen Black watched as Debbie Harry arrived in a World War II tank. Today one can revisit the scene by watching Xanadu, which features Olivia Newton-John and Michael Beck dancing to ELO’s "All Over the World" while Gene Kelly shops for a new suit.

The fluorescence of the Beverly Hills shop may have been permanently archived on celluloid, but the real epicenter of Fiorucci’s cool was its New York store at 125 East 59th Street. Opening in the spring of 1976, it soon became a destination for all those young and weird. The press compared its atmosphere of debauchery to that of Studio 54. In 1977, New York magazine would declare: "All it took this year to achieve instant chic, day or night, at the slickest New York party or the trashiest was a pair of $110 gold cowboy boots from Fiorucci."

Much of the store’s cachet was due to its eccentric staff. Klaus Nomi, drag performer Joey Arias, designer and filmmaker Maripol, and Madonna’s brother Christopher Ciccone all worked for Fiorucci during its heyday. The store was one of the first places to sell Betsey Johnson’s clothing and exhibit Keith Haring’s artwork. Fiorucci’s knack for youth-driven pop-art consumerism also attracted the likes of Andy Warhol. Surrounded by a coterie that included Truman Capote, Warhol launched Interview magazine with an in-store party. Douglas Coupland was inspired to quit studying physics after visiting the store.

"There was this absolute density of color and imagery," Coupland recalled. "I just thought it was the most perfect place I had ever been to." He brought back a postcard (the only thing he could afford). “It was on my desk. I looked at it and thought, 'Science is over.' I stopped caring about school. I had been a straight-A student and I started getting D’s. It felt like the best drug ever, and I thought, 'If this is what a bad grade feels like, this is great!'"

The store was a playground of glitter and spandex. Wide-eyed squares in their drab trench coats regularly gathered in front of the legendary window displays to see fashion at its most fun and subversive. It was Shangri-la for freaks and the conservative world couldn’t get enough. A People article from 1981 describes one memorable display: “Wearing a Merry Widow corset, bikini bottoms, fishnet stockings, and spiked heels, the Barbie Doll model reclined in a zebra-striped bathtub that had been placed in the window of Fiorucci's Manhattan store. For the next six hours she read smutty paperbacks, ate bananas, and blew bubbles — to the delight of a street crowd pressing 20 deep against the window.”

By way of explaining Fiorucci’s aesthetic, the article quotes Elio as calling haute couture “pathetic.” He embraced a certain trashiness in dress — lamé, peek-a-boo plastic, animal prints — literally incarnated when the store gave away miniature garbage-pail backpacks covered in brand-name stickers to customers who spent over $150.

Despite its popularity, the New York store wasn’t necessarily profitable. In the beginning, Fiorucci bet on the store’s ability to establish the brand’s image within the United States and, in turn, entice retailers around the country to sell Fiorucci merchandise, increasing the company’s wholesale business. At first the gamble paid off, and profits quadrupled the year following the store’s opening.

However, the label was built around the fickle tastes of the youth market and success was short-lived. Soon after Fiorucci jeans hit the market, Calvin Klein signed a jeanswear deal and his brand would emerge as the new must-have designer denim, bringing along with it his beige-on-beige minimalism as the look du jour. The Manhattan Fiorucci shuttered in 1988. The brand was further hindered by a series of ineffective business deals and relaunches that flopped.

Today a Williams-Sonoma occupies the 59th Street address and the Fiorucci name doesn't hold the same prestige it once did, but its impact remains. The boy who once spent his summers hanging out in the store, Marc Jacobs, has said his Marc line is influenced by the label. And the cheap plastic key chains and makeup compacts of his accessories boutique are certainly a nod to the tourist-friendly knickknacks Fiorucci used to carry. Any store that has hired a DJ and tried to turn retail into a party experience (ahem, Fashion’s Night Out) is indebted to the Italian label, as is anyone who has tried bring a little sex and trash into fashion.  

Helen Schumacher is the senior contributor to This Recording. She is a writer living in Brooklyn. You can find an archive of her writing on This Recording here. She tumbls here and here. She last wrote in these pages about Device 6.

The Best of Helen Schumacher on This Recording Is Yours

Her time at recess & LHOTP

Which of the following images do you think represents this game?

The career of June Mathis

It was all a means of divination

Falling victim to the gory seductions of Clouzot

The life and death of Veronica Geng

Joy Williams oozes a milky substance

"The Key" - Hercules & Love Affair ft. Rouge Mary (mp3)

"I Try To Talk To You" - Hercules & Love Affair ft. John Grant (mp3)

Tuesday
Jan142014

In Which We Have A Lot Of Baggage

The Things They Carried

by KARA VANDERBIJL

Mary Poppins had less baggage than today’s women, although, as a turn-of-the-century governess, it is quite certain that less was expected of her. If only we could empty the average woman’s bag onto a semi-aesthetic surface and study its contents! Not only would we see a reflection of her unique personality, but we’d also get an almost archeological glimpse into the history of ladies everywhere.

Since asking women to dump the contents of their purses onto the floor seems rather absurd, not to mention sexist (first they question our reproductive rights, now this), we’ll settle for imagining the things they carried.


33 less cents

Little to no simple carbohydrates  

iPhone 4s with a cracked screen in a dirty mint green rubber case

A small, sharp elevator key

Quinoa

Two tampons blooming from applicators in shades of teal, dark purple, royal blue

Clear nail polish for nylon runs

A bag of chamomile tea

Twenty tarnished pennies

A wadded up Trader Joe’s receipt

An aborted baby

Three Tinder profiles laid aside as conversation starters or party jokes; three others to follow up on when she’s a little tipsy 

A Moleskine, the first two pages the beginning of a dream journal, the rest messy grocery lists: cherry pie Larabars, sparkling water, frozen chicken breasts

Winona Ryder circa 1994

A sailor, a soldier, a spy

A Kindle full of self-help books: Find Your Inner French Girl, It’s Not a Diet It’s a Lifestyle, How to Please Your Misogynist Boyfriend

The ever-narrowing definition of liberated femininity

Her best friend’s spare keys

At least one story of how she was touched against her will 

Dull black eyeliner pencil

Two transit cards, she’s not sure of the value left on either of them

Assorted good luck talismans: a bag full of lavender, a vial of holy water, an expired condom

Knock-off Ray Bans

A passport for those last-minute trips overseas

Band-Aids for blisters

A photogenic cat

Dubious ointment

Chewing gum of a fruity or minty persuasion

A hand that historically could have been given in marriage

Oscar predictions

A scarf for passing drafts

Advice columns

The conviction that all men are awful; the conviction that she would very much like to date a man

Wallet in a pink chevron print containing quarters from all fifty states

The book she’s been reading during her commute

Earbuds for what she’s really doing during her commute

Unpopular opinions such as, "I really like my body" 

Pepper spray

Extra underwear

The occasional juice cleanse

Her mother's personality, set to unlock in about fifteen years

A pair of black pumps in case she wants to transition this outfit from day to night

A Post-It with phonetic pronunciations of words she’s only seen in books

For protection, at least least four fake boyfriends who have addresses, names, and occupations

The belief that she should be able to sleep with a stranger and feel breezy about it

Lingering Disney princess vibes

An angry resting face

Business cards from the men she meets in bars who still hand out business cards

Weird old tricks from the internet to cut down belly fat

A ziploc bag full of wasabi peas

Jennifer Aniston's hair

Leopard-print earmuffs

Four pens

A ticket stub

Meryl Streep's secrets for beautiful wrinkles

Residual sand from that one summer afternoon

In one compartment, her career; in the other, whatever she cares about more than her career but obviously can’t talk about because it’d make her a bad feminist, duh

One, two, three pickup lines thrown at her between her apartment at the train, between vulgar gestures and kissing noises and gyrating boy hips

Another bag

Red lipstick 

The unbearable urge to bodyslam women with perfect hair 

The belief that Sylvia Plath is an appropriate role model for young women

Enough patience to hear, "Wow, that's actually a good idea", in a surprised tone, from all her male coworkers

Beyonce

Kara VanderBijl is the managing editor of This Recording. She is a writer living in Chicago. She last wrote in these pages about art objects. She tumbls here and twitters here.

"Was It A Dream" - Marissa Nadler (mp3)

"Nothing In My Heart" - Marissa Nadler (mp3)

The new album from Marissa Nadler is entitled July, and it will be released on February 4th.

Friday
Dec202013

In Which Adam Levine Lent His Brave Story To Them

Perfect Body, Perfect Soul

by ELIZABETH BARBEE

My gym has several TVs that provide a constant source of nuisance, primarily because I am already angry that I am exercising. The treadmill has a way of turning things which would otherwise be mildly irritating (Kelly Ripa) into personal offenses. A few nights ago my workout session coincided with the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show.

Unfortunately I had not dressed for the occasion. My shirt, a freebie from my college dorm, was decorated in chili stains and sported the ironic words “Ellsworth Hall- We're Bringing Sexy Back!” I had chosen the stationary bike next to a full length mirror for reasons unclear to me now, and my iPod had just run out of battery. Not since middle school had I found myself in an environment so conducive to self-loathing. With a mind set on masochism and nothing to distract me, I peddled away and zeroed in on Cara Delevigne's thighs.

Thighs, I think, attract envious female eyes the same way that breasts attract lustful male eyes. They are the things that most dramatically separate supermodels from the rest of us, the parts of the body that are the most difficult to tone and virtually impossible to buy. The Victoria's Secret runway was full of long, lithe pairs like Delevigne's, each tanned set virtually indistinguishable from the next. The models' bodies were so uniform I might have forgotten other physiques existed if not for my own reflection in the mirror and Taylor Swift, who started bellowing near the middle of the show.

Don't be deceived by my use of “bellowing.” I love Tay-Tay. Her lanky, Gumby-like presence was a welcome relief. Although  appropriately dressed, she seemed just as victimized by the festivities as I did. Unlike the other acts that night who performed on a discreet platform, Swift was forced (I presume) to share the runway with the models. She served as both sound system and foil. Next to her stick straight hair the Angels' manes looked even more bouncy. Her much discussed virginity only amplified the naughty nature of the show.

She first sang a particularly vengeful version of “Trouble” in a sequined mini-dress and then joined Fall Out Boy in this sort of Union Jack/Ring Master getup. Both performances involved exaggerated arm movements and heavy footsteps as though she was determined to take up as much space as possible, which I respect. Periodically she bowed down to the models, pointed at them in a way that was supposed to be meaningful, or slapped them on their rumps.

I got the sense that all of this was very embarrassing for Swift, that the minimal but dramatic choreography was someone else's idea. The hilarious thing about her is that she always looks as though she thinks her grandma is watching. She is willing to capitalize on her looks but not her sexuality. That's why she was only sort of in underwear that night. She's modest.

Although Victoria's Secret is a company that depends upon women for its survival, it seemed like only men were enjoying the show. The camera cut several of times to a smug Adam Levine who, after lending his brave story to those Proactiv infomercials, makes so much more sense as a person. I imagine for him the night was a sort of retrospective of all the women he has dated, his presence in the front row a fuck you to the kids who made fun of him for having the occasional pimple.

Dehydrated and breathless, I transferred all of my feelings about the runway onto the only other person in the gym – a twenty something boy working the night shift. “I bet you think you're really something,” I thought as he played with his phone. Paranoia and leg cramps convinced me that he had intentionally programmed the TV to this station to whip me into shape. “Oh, you think I'm fat, do you,” I thought, burning another couple calories, while he remained disinterested. “I will show you!”

My anger eventually subsided but my feelings of inadequacy did not. I have downloaded calorie counting apps, taken to weighing myself daily, and vowed to never buy Victoria's Secret underwear again. I am proud only of the last point but feel compelled to mention all three, because I am unabashedly looking for pity. I probably need to work on that more than I need to work on my figure.

Elizabeth Barbee is a contributor to This Recording. This is her first appearance in these pages. She is a writer, graduate student, and adjunct professor living in Dallas, Texas.

"To Be Young, Gifted and Black" - Donny Hathaway (mp3)

"Just Another Reason" - Donny Hathaway & June Conquest (mp3)