Of all the themes to come up with for a reentry into the “real world” red carpet (as opposed to the virtual one), it seems to be an additional sign of Anna Wintour’s out-of-touchness with bona fide “trends” that this year’s “motif” is “In America: A Lexicon of Fashion.” A.k.a. what people are simply referring to as “American Fashion.” Worse still, it will be a two-part enterprise, continuing into 2022 with “In America: An Anthology of Fashion.” At the same time, maybe Wintour has her finger on the pulse more than ever in manifesting the latest edition’s sartorial “concept.” Because, if the past year in lockdown (insert quotes around that word for Americans) has indicated anything, it’s that American fashion has actually triumphed the world over… namely because American fashion has always amounted to: “scrub wear.”
Sweat pants (yoga pants being their glorified version), flannel, oversized t-shirts, ill-fitting silhouettes, flip flops, sneakers (all of which can fall under the umbrellas of “loungewear” and “athleisure”). These are the staples of both true American fashion, and now, the ultimate emblems of “lockdown couture.” Maybe it really is no wonder that the Met Gala has decided to cast its eye away from the other side of the pond (even further than it has of late). What’s more, the resurgence of the 00s as a “retro trend” over the long-reigning 90s has further added to the cachet of what can be billed as “Ed Hardy chic.” And any celebrity not capitalizing on the opportunity to sport some “vintage” Hardy threads à la Madonna walking in and out of the Kabbalah Center in West Hollywood circa ’03 would be missing a rare opportunity. In fact, one hopes Madonna herself will recreate some of her own most iconic “American fashion” looks from that particular era—one of the few when she wasn’t indulging entirely in French or Italian designs.
And, speaking of Italian designs, one can just imagine the eye rolls from within the boot upon the announcement of the theme. “Really? They’re calling that fashion? The Guccis and the Versaces are surely balking. It seems especially unexpected in some ways that Italian fashion has been sidelined considering this is the year when Gucci has had a major resurgence in prestige thanks to The House of Gucci (once “just a book”) getting attention via Lady Gaga starring in the film version as Patrizia Reggiani, the illustrious murderess who ordered a hit taken out on her ex-husband, Maurizio Gucci.
But no, gli americani must take centerstage as usual. And, wanting to “get the event just right,” a new precedent has been set in scheduling it later on in the year—just to ensure the lifting of all those “pesky” COVID restrictions that rich people never actually had to put up with in the first place. Thus, while typically always held during the first Monday in May (hence there being a documentary of the same name about the gala), it will instead be held on September 13th. A little too close to September 11th if you ask any true “Never Forget” NYer. What’s more, as this will mark the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Costume Institute’s founding (and the seventy-third year of the gala itself—which is why the event is formally called the Costume Institute Gala or the Costume Institute Benefit)—it makes all the more sense that the American-grown “institution” would prefer to “honor” the fashions of its homeland. And yet, everyone seems to be forgetting that they’re, as usual, idealizing something that no longer exists: American style. Sure, once upon a time, as late as the 1970s, Americans found it within themselves to “bother,” to give some kind of noticeable damn (even when Rhett Butler said he didn’t). In short, to put on the ritz.
We all certainly know that Cher carried the torch in setting a standard for glamor during the staglation-driven depression of the 70s. Perhaps that’s part of why her “naked” attire would forever be emulated by subsequent lesser “celebrities” (e.g. Kim Kardashian). And that what was considered “common” in 70s fashion could later be billed as “camp” in 2017 parlance. Maybe that’s, in part, why Bob Mackie (a.k.a. Cher’s longtime collaborator/the Sultan of Sequins) was compelled to say the same year, “Nothing is very interesting anymore. You just keep seeing the same thing over and over again and there are no surprises. Unfortunately, you don’t see much fashion anymore.” Least of all in the realm of “American fashion”—which, as another Cher (Horowitz) summed up best on the male front, “So okay, I don’t want to be a traitor to my generation and all but I don’t get how guys dress today. I mean, come on, it looks like they just fell out of bed and put on some baggy pants and take their greasy hair—ew—and cover it up with a backwards cap and like, we’re expected to swoon? I don’t think so.”
Even in her own time—complete with smoking jackets at cocktail hour and tuxedos at an event outside of weddings—Marilyn Monroe probably felt the same about the schlubs that surrounded her… yet still couldn’t help marrying one (take your pick between all three of her husbands). And Monroe, for an entire decade, set the tone for what would become the pinnacle of twentieth century American fashion. Glamorous gowns were the linchpin in her wardrobe (and, of course, they were deliberately form-fitting so as to show off her curvaceous figure), yet Monroe could just as easily be photographed in a “casual” ensemble—at the time, that meant something like elegant slacks paired with a blouse—and also embody the American sense of carefreeness intermixed with a sense of pride in one’s polish. Monroe, too, blazed the trail for what would once again become chic in the twenty-first century (more around the 2010s, than the 2000s): curves. Not being a stick figure in order to be viewed as an ideal of beauty. And when that happens, it always plays into haute couture, try as the industry might to favor the more gamine, Audrey Hepburn types.
Showing off her physique early on in her career (1951) Monroe and the studio she was tied to, 20th Century Fox, decided to troll a certain journalist—so the legend goes—who barbed that she was “cheap and vulgar,” and would probably have looked better (i.e. “subtler”) in a potato sack. Some others believe it was the studio’s attempt to prove Monroe could look “bangin’” in anything. Whatever the case, the real point was to thumb her nose at those who claimed she was only deemed “sexy” and “glamorous” because of the attire she was dressed in. Turns out, in Mar’s instance, clothes do not make the woman. She wanted to prove quite the contrary while also unwittingly manifesting the core of American fashion in a single “garment.” And, in truth, the most authentic statement on American fashion of all would be to force everyone in attendance at the Met Gala to roll up in some variation of a potato sack. But no, they’ll probably all just appear in Ralph Lauren instead. Which, as we know, is not worn by anyone who characterizes the “average” American.
Oh, and incidentally, “cheap and vulgar” is possibly the most succinct way to describe American fashion overall. Just look to the days when Abercrombie and Fitch, Pac Sun and Hollister were deemed the height of being “in vogue.” And let’s not forget the vulgarity of how, around the same time, low-rise jeans with the thong strap hanging out were also viewed as “hot.” Cher and Bob Mackie likely couldn’t abide, with the latter also noting in 2017, “She never looked vulgar in anything because she had such an incredible body and she carried it well—she wore it like she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Otherwise known as: the height of a “glamorous” ensemble in the USA.
Tellingly, this is the first year the gala will be “sponsored by Instagram” in an official capacity. For anytime Americans bother getting “dressed up” at all, it has long been only for the socials.
