Showing posts with label theoretical basis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theoretical basis. Show all posts

10 November 2009

What happened to fashion? Part 1 - beginnings of fashion culture

Right. Back on track, and back to that tricky fashion culture question.

The culture of fashion, as historians of dress define it, started in the Renaissance. Well, not really. There are indications that fashion culture began earlier: signs of the individuality that fashion necessitates begin to arise in the latter Medieval period, if not earlier.

Wait, what? We just defined fashion as the prevailing mode in dress, and we're constantly referring to the fashion-obsessed as slaves, mindless cultists, blind devotees. How does individuality play into that?

Fashion cannot survive without the concept of individuality, despite the metaphors of bondage and dogma we use to describe it. Costume - the first definition in the prior post, and a bit of the second, which is to say the formulaic and codified dress of a non-fashion culture - does, perhaps. But in order to have fashion, a prevailing mode as opposed to the only available option, the concept of the self-determined individual, who chooses (or not) to follow it, must exist.

Back to the Renaissance. It was an interesting time, sartorially. The concepts of individuality that had bloomed with the rediscovery of Classical texts in the later Medieval period were burgeoning into secular humanism. Improvements in transportation technology meant increased access to the high-quality textiles produced in the Middle East and Asia. New religious doctrines were allowing people to question the doctrines that governed every aspect of life in ways they hadn't in about a millennium. A variety of social and economic forces were combining to create, for the first time, a middle class.

That secular humanism bit is quite important. It's a philosophy that places primacy on humans, rather than God, in daily life. Ethics and morality aren't handed down from on high, and lives are lived with the goal of being good and enjoyable now, rather than in the afterlife. This doesn't sound too revelatory now, but it was a drastic departure from Medieval religious philosophy. The focus on the human, and on the physical world, allowed one of the great developments of the time - art in its modern context (different from modern art - very, very different). Instead of endless retreads of Biblical scenes, painters were able to explore genre scenes and portraiture - images of the world around them. Freed from the Church's stifling morality (ask me about the medieval safe sex flowchart sometime!), artists could work from live, nude models, better studying the mechanics and proportion of the human form.

Portraiture meant that real, live people were getting their images recorded in their contemporary clothes - not in ostensibly-Biblical draperies (which, admittedly, are in many cases considered by art historians to be clothes contemporaneous to the artwork's era, with extra drapey bits to make them look 'historic'). People are also being recorded as themselves, not cast as an allegorical or historic figure.

Just like today, that means they wanted to look their best. Needless to say, that meant their best clothes, and in the latest mode. The comparative value of clothing and the slower speed of communication meant, of course, that styles changed much more slowly: a particular 'look' could remain in vogue for a decade or two, rather than a season. Dramatic exceptions exist: one is the headdresses worn by English court ladies during the reign of Henry VIII.

Henry, if you'll recall, was one of history's most famed serial matrialmonists. He banished his first wife, Catherine of Aragon:



from his court in 1531, then married Anne Boleyn in 1532:


and had her executed in 1536. He then married Jane Seymour:


ten days later. (all images from Wikipedia)

Without going too deep into the amazingly complex socio-religious politics of the time, let's take a look at the hats.

Catherine and Jane both wear a headdress called the gable hood (for its resemblance to the architectural feature) now and the English hood back then. Anne, though, wears the less-concealing and considerably more flattering to modern eyes French hood.

All of which becomes interesting when you go digging into the Lisle Letters, a volume of correspondence of a family related to Henry. Arthur Lisle (who I believe was a cousin of Henry's?) was the steward of Calais, now a French port city, then under English control. He had fostered one of his daughters with a friendly French family, and she had several items of clothing made, including some of the French hoods popular on the Continent - and, for a time, in England, thanks to Anne. However, when young Miss Lisle was sent to the English court to be a lady-in-waiting to the new queen, Jane, she was forbidden from wearing the French style and required to wear the older, less-flattering one (not just to modern eyes, apparently: a family retainer said the more severe English style did not become her).

Just like that, because of its association with Anne, the French hood was out of style in England, and wouldn't come back for another decade at least. Was this a conscious choice on Jane Seymour's part? Was she trying to assert the difference between her and Anne, her homey, reliable Englishness, her lack of threat to the status quo? Quite possibly. From what I've read of her, Anne's adaption of the French hood was, unquestionably, a fashion choice: not only did it emphasize her youthful good looks in contrast to Catherine (who was Henry's elder by a few years), but it also identified her as a progressive, modern woman who had the sophistication of exposure to foreign courts and ideas.

So there we have it: the beginnings of fashion culture. Styles change, rise, and fall, influenced by the most visible and influential in society. However, at this point in history, the focus is on the wearer, not the clothing worn. Sure, there are well-known, prestigious tailors, but the concept of a fashion designer as the auteur of a style, rather than his (almost exclusively his) patrons, hasn't emerged yet. The first time the designer - or, rather, stylist - becomes well-known as the 'author' of a look isn't until much later, and amusingly enough, it's one of the few women to show up in the early annals of fashion history who does it.

26 October 2009

So, what do you do?

I always have the best time at cocktail parties. Not only are there yummy little canapes, fabulous little hats, and, let's face it, cocktails, I'm guaranteed to have this conversation at least once:

Random Person: So, what do you do?
Me: I'm a fashion theorist.
Random (and until this very moment, articulate and witty) Person: Wha?

It never fails.

Then I get the true and unabashed joy of explaining what it is, exactly, I do. This often involves wild gesticulation and, if we're all very lucky, diagrams.

I think about clothes. Not in the "What do I want to wear?" way (although I do that, too): in the "What motivates people to choose the clothing they do? What forces - societal, economic, technological - inform our collective choices in clothes? Why do I want to wear this?" way.

Fashion - clothing in general - is not something we think about much on an intellectual level. We spend loads of time and money on it and devote an immense amount of energy to it. Then we dismiss it as frivolous and meaningless, the preoccupation of airheads and the socially irresponsible.

But let's face it: everybody gets dressed.

The clothes we choose to wear are our first and most instant method of communication with people we meet. Even societies which don't wear clothing per se have cultures of bodily adornment. Choosing not to participate in the society of dress (in other words, being a naturalist or nudist) is itself a fashion choice, and a pretty dramatic one. By putting clothing on our bodies, we create the persona that we present to the world. Clothes can shape our moods, express our loyalties and ideals, and help define who we are - even to ourselves.

There's also much more to clothing than "just clothes." If you've never made a garment before, pick up a large, flat piece of cloth and try to figure out what it would take to make that cloth fit, cover, and stay on your body in a functional and flattering manner. What shapes would you have to cut, and how would you attach them together? If you have made clothes, think about how difficult it was to get that first garment right. An immense amount of technology goes into fitting two-dimensional fabric to the complex, movable three-dimensional forms of our bodies. That technology is constantly shifting, and not always in an additive direction: since the development of the sewing machine and mass-produced clothing, certain tailoring techniques have fallen by the wayside, and are now considered unusual or even revelatory when historically-minded designers delve into the annals of history to revisit them.

And what of history and fashion? Varying forces have shaped the "what do I wear?" question throughout history. Social pressures, status, functionality, religion, politics, and even such seemingly unrelated influences as transportation, advances in petrochemistry, and martial arts have all had a part in shaping wardrobes, and still do.

So if you meet me at a cocktail party (I'm the one in the fabulous hat - the one with feathers and veiling): Yes, I'm a fashion theorist. I think about clothes. I have a degree, a Master's, in this field. I've given academic talks on topics like the similarity of technologies in architecture and women's undergarments, and the connection between the emergence of fashion culture and the concept of individuality in the later Middle Ages.

I'm going to use this blog as a way to explore fashion and everything connected to it (and oh, my, is that a big 'everything'), from the basic technologies of fiber and fabric production to what our clothing choices today mean for the future of society. There may be wild tangents into other areas of interest; I'll try to make them at least moderately relevant or, failing that, amusing.

There's a lot to cover. Let's face it, everybody gets dressed.