Where Can We Find Alternative Icons? A Taxonomy of Dressing
In the last issue of Purple Fashion, Angelo Flaccavento argued that fashion designers “do not seem particularly ashamed of sharing their esoteric inspirations with their peers. They pillage from the same sources. As a result, originality keeps being flushed down the drain. What’s trumpeted as far-flung and exclusive, in fact, comes across as actually very common.” Flaccavento has a point here; with notable exceptions, men - and women - draw from the same sources for their style. There are five million ways to dress like Steve McQueen, Paul Newman or Miles Davis, and five million more to dress like Lilly Pulitzer, Audrey Hepburn and Jackie O. That’s not to say we shouldn’t be inspired by these people, and there are reasons that they’re iconic.
Angelo Flaccavento (Photo credit: Scott Schuman).
In his essay, Flaccavento describes the homogeneity of fashion tribes, where many members have the same ideas. Style tribes, less concerned with trends, suffer from the same affliction. When you see seven guys walking down the street together, it’s clear who studied who.
Where can we find alternative icons, then? If we’re tired of dressing like McQueen - white denim and shawl cardigans excluded - and Gary Cooper, who can we take our cues from and how do we make them our own? Sure, Fred Astaire is a good place to start, but it goes deeper than the next ten. Minus Davis, modern style icons are a whitewashed and risk-averse group. And while we can learn plenty from them about fit and timelessness, there are other men and women, past and present, who have more zeal and artistic expression in their everyday looks.
When finding style icons, who thinks of the great playboy Porfirio Rubirosa, whose suave good looks and sharp suits set the tone for hotelier Andre Balazs - who brings a modernized version of the Rat Pack look to life? Who thinks of Flaccavento himself, who wears cropped pants as well as Nick Wooster? Who thinks of philosophers and artists like Sartre and Duchamp? Though their styles have been immortalized by the great coat makers at Cohérence - a new Japanese brand that draws inspiration from the coats worn by dapper 20th century intellectuals - more men still dress like rebels without a cause. Even Picasso’s style doesn’t get a fair shake - we seem more concerned (at least New York magazine does) about analyzing Julian Schnabel’s sarong habit than bringing back to life Pablo’s boating shirts and loose-yet-shaped trousers.
Albert Camus' classic trench was the model for Cohérence's "Al" coat.
When it comes to workwear, who thinks of Marvin Gaye, who wore double denim, cuffed jeans and work boots better than anyone? And can’t men take style cues from women, and vice versa? There was an oversized, emerald green, buffalo check Isabel Marant shawl cardigan at Nordstrom several seasons back that I thought would look dashing on the right man, and women’s scarves often have more flair than men’s. Ask David Coggins - his whole family steals scarves from each other. If you need further proof, Kanye West’s Celine blouse remains a legendary crossover moment. For all his foibles, he still doesn’t get enough credit as a fashion renegade. On the flip side, Margaret Howell wears men’s clothing better than most men do and it comes through in her flattering anti-fit designs. And the notorious, cantankerous Fran Lebowitz wears a navy blazer, oxford and straight-leg jeans better than most men ever will.
Margaret Howell wears anti-fit minimalist outfits better than any man does (Photo credit: Wall Street Journal).
The fact that most people follow the style steps laid out by famous icons implies an unspoken taxonomy. At the bottom of the pyramid are the unstylish, those who don’t give a lick about their appearances. Perhaps they look bedraggled, or maybe just clueless or apathetic. You shall know them by their sweatpants, dad jeans and sport team logos. The next rung up is the reluctant participant, most often a man whose wife, husband or lover wants him to dress better. He pulls himself together on select occasions, yet never gets over the stigma of being interested in clothes. On the next level are the initiated, those who care about style and take their cues from the likes of Newman and Cooper. These are men who care about style, but are not particularly daring. Their looks are conservative and sober, and can often be designed by stylist in a department store. The difference between them and their lower-tier counterparts is that they like looking good and never turn back after buying a few proper outfits. The next two levels are harder to achieve. One is the pursuit of alternative style influences, which some men seek out after they’ve mastered the basics and want to pursue looks with more flair or individuality. This is where people break free from type and move up to the top of the pyramid - an individual style - after enough experimentation, deliberation, trial and error. The difference between the top two tiers of the pyramid and the bottom three are that they require curiosity and self-knowledge. The others can be achieved simply through living and breathing.
We’re here for more than living and breathing, though. No matter how many pessimistic grouches claim that anything that can be done has been done, we’re at a point in history where we can combine an infinite number of garments and gestures from the past to create idiosyncratic looks that are completely present - and may give us an idea what the masses might be wearing in the future. With the great research tool that is the internet and the democratization of media and spreadability, reaching the top of the pyramid is easier than ever. It takes a mere 15 minutes to browse through images of three cultural figures whose looks resonate with you, and find the things from each that you want to tweak to make your own. All it takes is creativity and a willingness to get it “perfectly wrong,” in Glenn O’Brien’s words. After all, getting it right makes you look like the masses, doesn’t it?