Perhaps because it’s the thick of Taurus season, one can’t help but tend to be more attuned to the aesthetics encountered. To notice and, try as best as they can, to appreciate them. Alas, the appraiser is likely to be more than a bit disappointed. For it has to be said that not since the 90s has anyone truly embraced aesthetic joy in America. And, of course, now, most will relish forever using the pandemic as an excuse for their further downward spiral regarding (lack of) style choices. Therefore, leaning toward an even heavier emphasis on that odious term, “function over fashion.”
Even when grunge, with its muted tones and oversized silhouettes (again, Billie Eilish hasn’t really pioneered much), came to roost, there were still those who abided more by the “90s dance music” category of garb. All to be witnessed when one went out, only to be blindsided by the plethora of metallic colors and impractical fabrics (vinyl and plastic being all the rage). There was a true sense of “curation” in what one wore. Of taking pride in its “loudness.”
As time wore on, it became increasingly the norm that to “dress up” was deemed impractical and unnecessary. What was considered normal wear in the Clintonian era had now become a luxury, once again, exclusive to celebrities. For you weren’t going to catch the likes of any “ordinary” girl wearing assless chaps (à la ’02 Xtina) in the schoolyard. Even Britney Spears’ emulated look of crop tops and short skirts was something out of ’99. Everything after that was but a modification of the iconic costume that launched her to fame.
While the 00s might have continued to provide some runoff of 90s bombast (the way the 80s did for the early 90s), the tone of the nation shifted dramatically under George W. Bush, whose conservative saturation seemed to trickle down (no economy reference meant) into the sartorial realm. Those solid, decidedly beige colors of grunge became the go-tos. Along with camo print (eventually well-timed for Gulf War II), Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister and Aéropostale (though don’t let the “French flourish” fool you into thinking that entails any kind of “élégance”). Here Americans had previously thought that they’d lost all their sense of glamor around the moment Katharine Hepburn deigned to wear pants for TV interviews. But the true and final plunge toward total sartorial laxity arrived in the 00s.
Further indications began to manifest as the decade progressed. Tracksuits were worn as normal clothing by otherwise usually fashionable (and reasonable) people–perpetuated in the present by Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton bringing back the trend for SKIMS. Even Madonna capitulated to the Von Dutch hat at the height of Ed Hardy mania. Yet, no matter how high the price tags were on these “athleisure” items from the couture scene, it couldn’t change the fact that there was no aesthetic value to them. They were, in the end, nothing more than overpriced “comfortwear.” And though some might contend that aesthetic joy doesn’t have to mean a lack of comfort, that might indicate just how far the bar has been lowered in terms of the masses not comprehending a time when true effort was put into a bona fide looQue. The sacrifices willing to be made in order to be classified among the rarest exotic birds in the room.
Worse still, even those “special events” curated by the likes of the Costume Institute for The Met tend to be devolving to the point where they’ve “let themselves go” by way of “coming up with” an American fashion theme. That would be more than likely to draw in nothing but celebrities wearing potato sacks and Ralph Lauren (or, of course, Ed Hardy). The more flowery-phrased description of the theme as “In America: A Lexicon of Fashion” and “In America: An Anthology of Fashion” might give hope that there will be plenty of throwback looks to an era in American history when people actually cared…about anything. When they truly did adhere to the Tracy Jordan aphorism, “Dress every day like you gonna get murdered in those clothes.” Indeed, ask yourself, would you really want to be caught dead in what you’re wearing right now? The more tragic part still is that when a culture loses a sense of style, it indicates a lowering of quality in other aesthetic facets as well. From architecture right on down to motherfucking Pinterest boards.
The level of “okayness” with “just okay” that so many seem to feel is indicative of a larger endemic condition: total lack of joie de vivre. Going through the motions and doing the bare minimum so that one might get back to their hovel in peace. Even though one has to admit that there has never been a more warranted moment to be totally hopeless and nihilistic, does that really have to mean we can’t still find some sense of pleasure and fulfillment in the trappings of aesthetics? One of the few things remaining that is technically accessible to everyone. Or at least those willing to put in the effort. For we’re all capable of “beautifying a space”–ergo improving the energy around us–if only we could still give a shit.
