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FASHION NOTEBOOK
The Front Line

From The New Yorker
March 19, 2001

 

Drill Sergeant: All right, ladies, drop your backpacks and grab your slingbacks! You are here to be fashionable. You are not here to be girlish, or pretty, or feminine. Do you ladies understand me?

Fashion Recruits: Sir, yes, sir!

Drill Sergeant: I can't hear you!

Recruits: Sir, yes, sir!

Drill Sergeant: What are you wearing, soldier?

First Woman (shouting): Sir, satin military jacket, khaki cotton rip-stop skirt, and ballerina slippers with a kitten heel, all by Louis Vuitton, sir!

Drill Sergeant (moving down the line): How about you, soldier?

Second Woman: Sir, a camouflage dress by Christian Dior, sir!

Third Woman (whispering): Couldn't we just wear one of those little embroidered Chanel dresses with strappy sandals and a veil?

Drill Sergeant: Who said that? Who's the prissy little capitalist showoff who just signed her own death warrant?

Third Woman: Sir, I said it, sir!

Drill Sergeant: And what do you have on, maggot?

Third Woman: Sir, flesh-tone ribbed-cotton tank, green pleated skirt in washed-silk chiffon, and olive sling-back loafers, by Miguel Adrover, sir!

Drill Sergeant: Then, God damn it, act like it, soldier! This is the military look!

Third Woman: Sir, yes, sir!

 

END OF THE LINE

Priest: We gather here to commit fashion to the ground, sashes to sashes, bust to bust.

Mourners: Lord & Taylor have mercy upon us.

Priest: For fashion is but a shadow. It goeth from the conspicuous consumption of Versace, through the tough chic of Louis Vuitton, to the classicism of Ralph Lauren. But it hath no direction, nor doth it serve only the Člite, as it once did. It descendeth into H&M and Target, and becometh a mass consumer good, and then is fashion no more.

Mourners: Yea, though I walk through the aisle of Kmart, I shall fear no evil, for my Dolce & Gabbana silk organzine turtleneck side-tie dress with black silk-satin lace-trimmed bra and leather stilettos will comfort me.

Priest: Verily, I say unto you, we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

Mourners: Not even this short silk ruffled dress with nude top and lace detail, by Imitation of Christ, the hip downtown design team?

Priest: Fashion that is born of woman hath but a short season to live. A fad cometh up, and is cut down like a flower, only to give way to a new bloom.

Mourners: Let us declare, then, that fashion has passed on, that it's a real yawn, in order to prepare the ground for a new savior next season.

Priest: In the name of Imitation of Christ, Amen.

 

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