DEAR READER PLEASE forgive my recent respite. I was off on an important trip to New Amsterdam*, attending to important meetings and relations as is the demand of the life of a Postmodern Gentleman. Amongst the dodging other human beings in the subway, paying Disneyland-esque prices for even basic necessities, and nearly freezing my Little Gents off in the cold, I managed to actually ponder some elements of Style.
It is Fashion Week in New York this week, and so I managed to get a glimpse of some of the hoopla that has taken hold of the city. I first went to a party for a designer whose name I cannot remember, but it is just as well, as there was not very much Style there to be had. Not to say that the beautiful people (and they were indeed very beautiful) were not stylish, it was that it was a dark, trendy bar in New York, and subject to the fluxes of fashion that dark, trendy bars in New York sometimes have. I would have taken photos, but where there is fashion there is almost always alcohol**, and so there are none of that party to be had.
However, I did manage to snatch some pictures at the next event I was honored enough to attend a fun little soiree at Patricia Field. For those who call a dark hole in Tazmania a home, she was none other than the stylist for such obscure pop culture minutiae as Sex and the City and The Devil Wears Prada.
Take a moment, Reader, to drink in the images. Considering this is P. Field, you may wish to use a Crunk Cup with a sippy lid.
Sorry for the terrible quality, I was equiped only with my iPhone and I fear the engineers at Apple have not taken into account Fabulousness into their device’s calibration. That last picture was of Omar, a very friendly shop worker who gave me the courage to snap off these few shots. Cheers, Omar, thank you for helping me look for those cheetah pants.
You may be wondering what sequins, mascara, and high heels have to do with Postmodern Gentlemanlyy-ness. But I insist that in order to get at the heart of Style, one sometimes must take unusual, uncomfortable, exhilerating routes. What I like about Patricia Field is that she pushes the limits of what is acceptable to wear. There was a photo I saw in her charming shop (in my excitement I neglected to take a picture) of Sarah Jessica Parker’s character from the aforementioned Sex. She wore a stunning green floral dress, but with a studed belt and very strappy, leathery, heavy, heeled sandals. I wonder what person would have thought such a mismatched conflation of dress and accessories would have worked were it not for people like Ms. Field and her liberal sense of Style. What I also like about Ms. Field is how she captures certain everyday items and transforms them into high fashion. Her shop contained such accoutrements as ammo pouches, baseball shin guards, chest protectors and these:
Forget the athletic supporter for a moment. That is a Sam Browne belt. You know how I feel about irony. This is not irony, but reappropriation. The difference is that she is not using these items in way which diminish the object, rather she is taking the accessory and finding new, unexpected uses for them. Truly, she is adding to the use of these items, rather than taking away. Now recall the supporter. There is no reason, it is merely hilarious.
Note that this is New Amsterdam 1. I plan to write a short series (and by short I mean two) on my experience with the Big Apple, for I have a number of observations on the state of Style in that city that I hope will be both entertaining and illuminating. Until then, Reader.
*That’s New York City to you New Worlders.
**Where there is Fashion there are usaully also mood lighting, disco balls, shiny poles, and ostriches (Tanzania only).