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.
Copyright © John Seabrook 2003. All rights
reserved
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