What Rubbish!

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We all love the serious implications that fashion holds. We love hearing how Vera Wang's collection was actually a reference to the Bolshevik revolution and how Dior's expertly crafted dresses were actually inspired from Madame Butterfly. Fashion is said time and time again to be rooted in world much deeper than the planet of cocktail dresses. It is said that fashion acts as art history, a cultural meterstick of our times, a way to connect our vanity with self reflection. This is all very moving and touching but there are some days when you want to cut the Fidel Castro speech and exclaim, "People, they're just clothes." For those days there's rubbishmag.com which is like fashion's cheeky, flippant cousin that reveals all the silliness that is weaved into fashion's dignified seams. Because when you strip away the bombastic adjectives and the cerebral analysis fashion is just a whole lot of fun.

Braless Revisited

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To me the word braless is usually synonymous with Hedi Montag and wardrobe malfunctions (which coincidentally are tantamount to each other). Yet when Bottega Veneta did a version of this "loose" way of dressing it came off as erotic yet tasteful. When flipping through ads in a magazine I stopped and glanced twice at the Bottega Veneta spread. There was something almost carnal about it that dared you to look twice. The girls in the spreads looked in control and refined yet suggestive and cheeky. In the words of Harry Potter "mischief managed."

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Where in the World is Azzedine Alaia?

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Where in the World is Azzedine Alaia? Not in the spreads of Vogue or on the runways of Fashion Week that's for sure. Every time I would come across his name an interest would spark. Here was a designer who was one of the emblems of 80's fashion and known as the master of female form yet you couldn't look at works on style.com or search his name in WWD.

Alaia is one of the last couturiers of the old world, a world of Cristobal Balenciaga and Christian Dior. A world where strong relationships were forged with clients and models, a world where the designer had a hand in every seam, a world not so binded by commercial success. One of the reasons why Alaia is so enigmatic is because he doesn't design on the protocol schedule. He doesn't design for seasons instead he only designs when he is truly inspired, inspired he says, by the evocation of certain materials. In an age where muses are diluted among celebrities Alaia keeps his close, his strongest supporters such as Naomi Campbell and Stephanie Seymour refer to him as Papa. It is to be said that Alaia's house at any time of day is always filled with artists and he is known to have one the greatest haute couture collections in the world. His clothes, his life and his aesthetic seem to be steeped in some other world, a world richer, saturated with more culture.

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Known as the "King of Cling" Alaia, who studied sculpture is said to make clothes that flatter the women body, unparalleled to anyone another designer. It is strange that in a time where fall runways are filled with Alaia influenced designs his name is absent from mainstream fashion. His clothes are rarely featured in Vogue nor are any of his work featured in the "Model as Muse" exhibition, despite the fact that Alaia is known for having a particularly strong relationship with models from Tatjana Patitz to Campbell. He blames this absence on Anna Wintour who also rarely features his clothes in editorials.

So where is he? Tunisia? Paris? His clothes seem mysteriously to be appear at Barney's every so often and people are known to collect his clothes as treasured pieces of art. Alaia seems more elusive than Carmen herself who, with her red trench coat and matching fedora is pretty easy to spot. Yet I guess when your clothes are so beautiful you really don't have to be center stage to get the recognition you deserve.

The Women Behind the Bangs

The September issue, a documentary by R.J Cutler follows Anna Wintour and her team for nine months as they construct and deconstruct the September issue of Vogue. The question on many people's mind's is why now? Why after so many years of mystique and carefully constructed enigma is Anna Wintour opening her glass doors to the media. Could it perhaps be to tether the rumors of Carine Roitfield replacing her as editor in chief? Or could it perhaps be to bring the spark back into Vogue? The spark that many critics have lamented has been extinguished at Vogue along with its avant-garde edge. Well Maureen Callahan of the New York Post seems to think that these to occurrences are not just a matter of a timely coincidence.

It should be interesting to see how this documentary, shot in 2007, will fit in today's less than opportune economic and journalistic climate. As magazines are closing down their publications how will the "September Issue" compare with the actual September issue of 2009. A dearth of advertisers and profit will make this upcoming September issue a couple of thousand of Lanvin dresses difference. Yet whether you view Wintour as a dictator or messiah of fashion, a creative genius or a clinical businesswomen, a fashion enabler or anorexia advocate one thing is for certain, the September Issue displays Anna Wintour as one intimidatingly powerful women in tough skin. And I'm not just talking alligator.

Ice, Ice, Baby

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Picture this: It's January and snowing in Moscow and you're walking across the Red Square to the Saint Basil's Cathedral. As the image is taking shape somewhere in the walls of your mind what exactly do you picture yourself wearing? Is it a luxurious wool skirt topped with a bright red cashmere turtleneck along side over the knee boots and a fur caplet? Or, is it a sweatshirt elegantly juxtaposed with snow pants and Ugg boots? Even in our most nebulous dreams (I bet a lot of us pictured this scene without even knowing what the Red Square looks like) our mind meticulously chooses our wardrobe for that particular moment (if you've never pictured yourself walking along the Champs-Elysées in a beret than you are just depriving yourself.) Yet our mind does not actively take in the windchill factor (a skirt in a Russian winter?) in these moments of delusional reverie, but the question is should they?

In photographs across the blogosphere (The Satorialist and Garance Dore for example) you see pictures of youths in Berlin in punkish streetwear, refined ladies in Moscow in skirts and elbow length gloves and Parisian coquettes in ankle booties and a bodycon dress. Despite the fact that it's winter, these nameless subjects dress for there mood. The weather plays a key role in the process but not the sole role. It is more of an adviser than a dictator. Which is why I find people's response of my going to Northwestern slightly surprising. I think at least everyone who I've told that I'm going to Northwestern has elicited a response similar to "You know, Chicago get's really cold!" I used to believe that my irritation to these predictable responses was just part of extensive collection of neuroses, like the way I can't stand people touching my hair or my utter aversion to feet. But I have recently found out that I am not alone, on Facebook there is a whole group (case in point, they really do serve cathartic purposes) devoted to my neuroses felicitously titled "Yes damit, I KNOW Chicago gets really cold, now shut the hell up about it!" Now these meterologist-esque and informative responses seem to be perfectly acceptable segways to a conversation, except when they go on how it gets so blood freezing cold that the winter becomes dreadfully unbearably, that one must stay inside most of the times wearing Northfaces and Ugg boots perpetually.

Now this is where my irritation starts to turn to a light simmer. I mean must cold weather be synonymous with the "It's Sunday and I've got a the flu" outfit? Can't there be a balance between the ever famous duo of fashion and function? According to a former U Chicago student and a present Michiganite resident the answer is no. Upon asking my cousin if wearing skirts with tights was pushing it in the winter, she started to laugh. She looked at me seriously and said, "Heba, if you dress like that in Chicago you will die." This to me sounds like an exaggeration. I mean how do those statuesque Russian residents dress so elegantly while strolling through St. Petersburg? I bet Anna Karenina wasn't wearing a Puffy Coat and a face mask that's for sure.

vs.
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Now which one would you choose?

To me it seems like a question of mind over matter. Wearing a skirt with wool cable knit tights doesn't seem completely ludicrous to me. But from the bemused looks I was receiving from my cousin and my sister you would think that I was suggesting making snow angels in hotpants. If Anna Karenina can dress alluringly in a Russian winter than I think we all have the potential to, even in the windy city. After relaying these thoughts to my cousin she said, "It's going to be Chicago vs. Heba and Chicago's going to kick your ass." And well, I can't say that I'm not excited for that face off.

Immigrants Returning Home

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Oh America, the home of Hemingway, airplanes and reality television. At one time it was also the birthplace of boat shoes, seersuckers and button down oxfords. It seems though that these elements of Prepdom have migrated to land far away, becoming warmly welcomed immigrants to Japan. The New York Times ran a a very interesting article on how the WASP uniform has become oh so very Japanese. After it's outburst in the 80's Preppiness in America has been viewed as boring, cookie cutter and circumscribed to a certain stratosphere in class. Yet according to Coleman, the Japanese have embraced our thrown ot style and worn in it extremes, from head to toe with vivacity. And well it doesn't look boring or unoriginal on them.

Looking at the photographs in the 1960's Japanese book "Take Ivy" is almost surreal. It's strange to see college kids dressing so thoughtfully and put together. But the paradox is that though the outfits seems polished and orchestrated they seem simultaneously unassuming and nonchalant as their owners walk across the lush green lawns. And I guess that's the appeal of the sartorially preppy way of life. There is this innocence and naivete to it but at the same time a security. While the leather pants and the bomber jackets may make us feel like we are living life on the edge we feel safe and secure buttoned down in our collar shirt and madras shorts. I guess the streamlined clothes make us in turn view life more simplistically, or as simplistically as clothes can make us feel. In these times the decadence of the 80's nightlife is coming back, with neon colors and exaggerated silhouettes. But as the one side of the fashion rope pulls the other side must as well. Which is the prep style is coming back into play with brands like the Band of Outsiders and magazines such as Prepidemic. Both of these looks provide us with an escape but with two entirely different mindsets. Seeing pictures of the preppy collegiate students one gets a sense of confidence that is entirely different from the 80's nightlife look. A confidence that everything will be fine, that life is always peachy through Rayban wayfarers. So take out your boat shoes and your navy blue blazers, the immigrants are finally returning to their homeland.

The Three Little Myths

Greek Mythology will forever be ingrained in the brain of my sixth grade self. Yet my memories of Zeus and Athena need not be confined to the company of Junior High Dances and unsightly teeth misalignments. Greek myths focus on gods and goddesses. These fabled illusions of perfection that graced the pages of our Language Arts textbooks have also found their way into our everyday life. For don't we all create idealized conceptions of normalcy, of our ourselves even? Most people don't want to completely change themselves, they just want to be a more enhanced, flawless, barely recognizable version of themselves. It seems that, sartorially speaking, our world at large has created three myths of perfection. These myths are the individuals we wish we could be. These myths are broken down into 3 distinct categories one of which most of the female population identifies and/or envies. According to our specified tastes we choose one of these ethereal figures to clandestinely and unconsciously model ourselves after. It's like asking yourselves what's your favorite ice cream flavor is. So what flavor of myth are you?

1. The Whimsical Quirksters: The object of envy for the free spirited among us. These creatures of whimsy seem to have been dressed by little birds in the morning. They attract envy for their dresses that seem to float away from them, their hair that is perfectly windblown and their cheeks that suggest that they have just been running through a field of flowers five minutes before. Not as cliched as the infamous bohemian, quirksters have a life filled with thrift shopping, organic food and usually some niffty hobby life photography or indie folk music. Ah if only all of us could be like Zooey Zeschanel.

2. The Night Life Kids: An abundance of tight rompers, leather pants and generally anything from Alexander Wang seem to be synonymous with these rebels without a cause. These individuals are the ones that every buttoned up librarian type secretly wants to be. A look perfected by models, a la Kate Moss, this look just seems to be simply put, cool. I mean how else could black eyeshadow, unkempt hair and under eye circles (especially under club lighting) look so good?

3. The Sophisticated Urbanites: With their meticulously coiffed hair, refined clothing and extensive knowledge of art, music and food these mythological creatures can be a bit awe inspiring if not intimidating. You may witness them at a wine tasting, a gallery opening, or in some erudite conversation about foreign cheeses but they always seem to unruffled and polished. To put in more complex terms, they have their stuff together, a stark contrast to that broccoli cheddar stain on your sweater. I guess you missed a spot.

And we all thought Athena was the pinnacle of perfection.

The Secret Life of a Cross Dresser

They say the first step in fixing a problem is admitting that you have one. Well I guess it's my time to check into sartorial rehab. I think my epiphany began when I began to reflect on the age old question: Who is your style icon? Most normal people rattle off the usual list of suspects from Coco Chanel, to Audrey Hepburn to Marie Antoinette. My list starts off a bit differently, well it starts off with men. It all began very unassumingly. My dad is a very well dressed man and as any normal person I admired his style. But this innocent admiration manifested itself into a strange mania. All of sudden I did not just appreciate a man's clothing in the abstract way you admire your cat's cute little ears. It was like I wanted to wear the cat's cute little ears. I started not only appreciating the way a man dresses but also coveting some of the pieces he was wearing. It all started on one late night.

I began sneaking into my basement late at night and looting through my Father's clothes (they all won't fit in his closet). I would secretly bring them upstairs to my room and try them all on all while blasting the Arctic Monkey's and MGMT. I started wearing his sweaters to school with tights and ankle boots, wearing his cardigans over dresses, belting his knits to make blouses. People started curiously asking me which store I had acquired all these pieces. When I told them the truth they would look surprised. It gave me a rush, wearing clothes so unassuming yet irreverent. And the most glorious part of it all was that I never had to pay for any of these clothes, it was going to the mall and picking out whatever your heart's desire for free! Say what you want about shoplifting but Winona, I know where your coming from. But alas, admitting that you have a problem is not the end, it is only the beginning. In order to complete my twelve step program I had to ask myself: Why?

I approached this problem by delving into the cross dressing archives. I was surprised by how common it is in today's society. I mean Mulan dressed up as a man, granted it was because she wanted to save her ailing father from injury but still I bet she enjoyed those masculine army getups. I can almost feel the shoulder pads. And besides how else would she have scored such a hunk like Li Shang without dipping her foot in the Today Man's Pool? From Portia dressing up as man in the Merchant of Venice to Bug's Bunny throwing on a dress for comedic sake, cross dressing is everywhere. I think the appeal of dressing in men's clothes is the nonrestrictive nature of it all. Men's clothing are meant to be meant to be active, they are meant to be lived in. You see guy's all the time walking around with rolled up sleeves and their shirts untucked. So many women envy the looks that are effortless, they may not realize that these looks may just be in closet down the hall. But I think the main reason why I am attracted to men's clothing is because unlike women men don't dress for other men or for their girlfriends they dress for comfort, for practicality and for themselves. And I think men's clothing and cross dressing general embody that message: Dress for yourself. I'm starting to see the saying "Life's a Drag" in a whole new light.
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Coming Out of the Closet

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Everyone has their fair share of solecisms in the aesthetic arena. Whether it was that impulse induced purchase of the poncho back in 1999 or the imprudent acquisition of Crocs, everyone has been guilty of an SWM (shopping while misguided). These sartorial aneurysms hang in our closets as reminders of misjudgments, the fruits of our shopping hangovers. The fact that fashion is not stoic but ever changing makes it difficult to buy stability especially when trends are as ephemeral as celebrity rehab stints. Yet there are a few select items that have endured the fashion cycle of rebirth. These items may have lurked in our closets, deemed too outdated to be worn (in public anyway). But now that a fashion Renaissance is upon us I think it is time to look at our clothes with fresh eyes. Who knows? We may even pull out a Botticelli from our own closets.

The Comeback Kids
1. Shoulder Pads: Not only for football players and business women of the 80's, shoulder pads have made a comeback on the runways and in various people's wardrobes. On a simple blazer they elongate the shape and create a stronger, more defined look. And with the weight of burdens increasing everyday who wouldn't want stronger shoulders to lean on?

2. Leggings: The child of the eighties (and the Godfather of Flashdance) deserves to come back into our good graces. Done right (like Rag and Bone Fall 09), leggings can be a great addition in the winter months by providing a layer of warmth to long tunics and short dresses alike. The fact that they are as comfortable as sweatpants doesn't hurt their cause either.

3. The Leather Jacket: I think from previous posts we all know my feelings on this particular subject

4. The turtleneck/trench coat combo: Though the turtleneck and the trench coat have never been cast as a sartorial exile they often are given a cold shoulder for being mere "basics." Not your average one night stands, these are the pieces you break out the monogrammed linens and engagement ring for. So pony up and make a commitment, you might surprised about how much you missed some gold old fashioned stability.

So I think it’s time to embrace the now, progressive looks of the past. I think, it’s time to finally celebrate coming out of the closet (though the use of Liza Minnelli music is totally optional).

Photo compliments of: www.materialgirlblog.com

If I Were A Boy....

If I were a boy
Even just for a day
I'd roll out of my bed in the morning
And throw on some purple and go

If I were a boy
I think I could understand
How it feels to love a man scarf
I swear I'd be a better man

If I were a boy
I'd put myself first
And make my wardrobe rules as I go
Cause I know I could pull it off
Because I'm Chuck Bass

If I were a boy I would dress like Chuck Bass.

Don't Kill the Messenger

To me, messenger bags have always been synonymous with mailmen and Dan Humphrey. Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate both of these fine specimen (in different ways, of course) but I never aspired to emulate their style. Lately though I've seen myself pining for one of these cross body contraptions. They just seem much less troublesome than the standard oversized/leather/satchel bag. As someone who lugs around handbags that weigh almost as much as a Kindergarten class, handbags always seem to be a hindrance rather than a tool of efficency . I always seem to be knocking someone in the elbow with the back of my bag. And let me tell you, it's not easy squeezing into small spaces with a bag the width of a tree trunk.

This handbag history is probably what lead me to think that there is something quite liberating about being hands free, about not having a huge burden on your shoulder (literally). The messenger bag in it's utilitarian aesthetic really captures the meaning of the quote "Wear the clothes, don't let them wear you." Well, I'll certainly be wearing one sometime soon.

Forget Timeless, It's All About Timefull Dressing

Usually when I think of leather jackets images of Hell's Angels come racing through my mind's archive of sartorial references. And I usually have to resist the temptation to make a joke about Fonzie. Considering the fact that I've never been coordinated enough to ride a bike much less a motorcycle, leather jackets have never really found a place in my wardrobe ideology. And truth be told, I've always preferred Potsie over "The Fonz" anyway. But for the past couple of months I've been seeing leather jackets and more over what they stand for in a whole new retail therapy induced light.
I used to be wooed by the impression that all girls were princesses and the fairy tale way of dressing, the bows, the frills and the ruffles ect. Blame it on watching Cinderella one too many times. I have not abandoned my pre-adolescent beliefs but more over have transmuted them into something more tangible, something more relevant to the landscape of our times. I guess the princess getup doesn't appeal to me quite as much anymore because I think its time for us to dress stronger, to dress in a way that does not drip of overt femininity. So lately when I look in my closet I have a strong urge to ease up on the lace and pile on the leather. I am fully aware that its quite ridiculous to wax on and off about a leather jacket but I guess that's what clothes are supposed to do right?
They are supposed to provide insight. I know people would argue that clothes are supposed to provide a fantasy and dressing like your running though a field of flowers provides that escape. It is true that clothes are supposed to provide a fantasy, but one that is relevant to our times. They are supposed to intensify us, makes us a more concentrated version of ourselves so we do not slip away from reality but become a more fortified fixture in it. So despite my dislike of Fonzie, I guess the reason why leather jackets appeal to me is because they makes us feel more powerful and able to face the trying times, not just the Happy Days.

Better than your Lover

He’s better than your lover, more insightful than your psychologist and a clairvoyant whose talents exceeds those of your pedestrian psychic. He’s knows what you lust for, what vulnerabilities you hide in the deception of your limbs and what your thinking, what you want even before you do. He can be none other than your sartorial soul mate, also known as your favorite designer. Alber Elbaz certainly knows what I want before I do because my wants always seems to be sauntering down his runway. His Fall 09 collection was elegant with something almost industrial about it. Almost as if he had weaved something savage in the lining of the dresses. In my opinion it’s just what our recession needs: investment pieces that have a touch of a mechanized strength. His biased cuts seems to embrace the body, protecting them from brutalities while the luscious materials leave them with a bit of vulnerability. Now tell me what lover/psychologist/psychic can do that?

It's Wang's World (We're just living in it)

I find it quite interesting that in Kingdom of Hollywood we have “It girls” yet in the realm of Sartorial operations we have “It Boys.” We all remember the era of Marc Jacobs followed by performances from Zac Posen and Proenza Schouler. Yet now that these designers have graduated from student to teacher it’s Alexander Wang that’s filling their place. Which is why my mild obsession with Alexander Wang’s new diffusion line is so understandable, if not justified. It’s street chic, loose and effortless aesthetic speaks to the urbanite in all of us (even if we do live in suburbia). I mean how can you not feel a bit dangerous wearing something like this:

Let's just hope "It boy" ensembles don't make me pull a Lindsay and start dancing on tabletops.