The latest fashion designer collaboration with a high street retailer - Meadham Kirchhoff for Topshop - landed in store yesterday. As it happens for any major collaboration, it was accompanied by a series of magniloquent posts and features published a few days before the final release in the shops. Some described the collection as "epic", others limited themselves to "whimsical", but there were also the occasional "bold" and "magic", the latter being the sort of adjective that the media are prone to abuse four weeks before Christmas.
I personally thought it was a disturbingly puzzling mish mash of garments and accessories. The 89-piece collaboration is indeed a triumph of glitter, PVC, fluffy feathers, fake Satanic symbols and stars, leather and lace assembled in rainbow-coloured or pastel pink designs.
Edward Meadham and Benjamin Kirchhoff took a creative blender and mixed in it Marilyn Manson, Kembra Pfahler and glam rock (as they stated in interviews about the collection) creating a real wardrobe for an imaginary band, The Cherrys.
The collection is obviously marketed at young consumers, think teenagers and women in their early twenties, but it's interesting to consider it from the point of view of grown up women and wonder what does this collection say about fashion/design and young women today.
The first point is actually the easiest to answer - we are stuck in the age of sampling and remixing.
It is therefore only natural to alter the shape of Judy Garland/Dorothy's sparkling red shoes in Victor Fleming's The Wizard of Oz and glue them to a heel that is a crossover between Salvatore Ferragamo's multi-coloured platform sandals for Judy Garland circa 1938 and Rainbow Brite's costume.
In the same way it seems equally legitimate to get a furry stole à la Prada circa Spring/Summer 2011 and turn it into a Mongolian wrap, recreate Miu Miu's Spring/Summer 2008 harlequin dress (already pilfered from a long tradition of harlequin dresses...) or remix a '70s inspired dress from Miu Miu's S/S 2010 collection (if we consider the fact that most Miu Miu/Prada designs are re-edited versions of something that has already happened in fashion, we could state that, in this case, we are basically in front of a remix of a remix).
Add a classic crocheted piece here, a vintage market find there, and PVC garments spotted in a seedy S&M shop, filter it through kawaii/Gothic Lolitas lenses, spike it with acid, throw in some Courtney Love, and you more or less get it.
So, no, we can't talk about innovative designs or high quality, but we can definitely describe the collection as a clever exercise in sampling trendy motifs and elements, like all the other "glorious" collaborations between a designer and a big retailer we have so far witnessed.
But let's move to the second point, what does the collection tell us about young women today: the emphasis in some of these garments is indeed on childhood, baby dolls, and extremely cutesy pieces with a disturbing twist about them.
So are young women crossovers between Salem witches and naive sugar fairies in frilly frocks? Are all girls out there longing to be women trapped in bizzarre heart-shaped dungarees and multicoloured furry boots? Are these supposed to be rebellious clothes that allow you to make a fashion statement? And, in case, what kind of statement are you making by wearing them and why is it that, until yesterday, an original crocheted dress from the '70s made with an assorted selection of fancy squares in clashing colours was abhorred by fashionistas, while today the same fashionistas profess they are loving it?
High Street retailers boast about democratising fashion and "democratising" essentially means bringing something to everybody. Yet, if these garments are aimed at young people they are missing the point of the "offering something for everybody" concept; and, if they are created with all women in mind, well, they only appeal to a part of the female population.
I'm struggling to remember at which age I desired to wear such clothes, but it must have been between 3 and 8 (I have photographic evidence of going around dressed like Dennis The Menace before and after that period of time...). I've tried taking a trip down memory lane to remember what kind of teenager I was, and, the more I think about it, the more I can't find a single image of myself as a sugar fairy on acid, and I suspect that this can applied to lots of other women out there.
The fashion industry seems to consider girls covered in glitter, pastel faux fur, piles of ruffles, and cute frocks in My Little Pony shades as "irreverent women". It's funny because, up until a few years ago, Simone de Beauvoir and Germaine Greer were among the best examples of irreverent women. It's as if, suddenly, to be a trendy and desirable woman you had to go around dressed like the bastard child of My Little Pony's Rainbow Dash and My Melody and show your fragile side.
Funny thing is, if you dare say anything against it all, they will rebuke you, explaining you don't understand irony, fun, liberation and riot girls.
Who knows, maybe this is a new version of feminism, repackaged in girly frothy pink for the fashion masses, purged of aggression and anger and turned into a glittery cutesy concept that doesn't hurt anybody. Well, if that's the case I think I'll stick with old school feminism, it may be an angrier place, but at least it didn't fool women by telling them they could reach maturity and equality with a rainbow magic wand that sprinkles pink and silver glitter on this sad sad world.
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