LEGGINGS: TROUSERS. REALLY?

Leggings: Comfort trousers? Leisure pants? Gym wear? The ubiquitous jeggings. Available in every colour imaginable, tie-dyed, studded, bejewelled, leather, suede, for young and old, for the models of the world and the crazy cat lady alike. Leggings have become synonymous with the modern woman. It's hard to venture outside and not see someone wearing a pair of leggings. The hybrid of tights and trousers has taken over the wardrobes of most women and become a staple of both fashionista's and the fashion ignorant of society.

However, despite the practicalities of leggings and the ease/ comfort of said item, they are somewhat both overused and thus misused. 

Leggings are not trousers.

(Photo: Huffington Post)

I feel this statement should stand alone to both emphasise and highlight my viewpoint on this matter. In fact it's a point I believe should be repeated, emboldened and underlined thrice. Anything to get this message through to the masses. I do however, realise that there is a time and a place for leggings. My problem is not with leggings in the basic sense - they're useful for lounging around the house or even the gym (I myself prefer the elasticity of leggings whilst working out over a baggy tracksuit). My main point is this - once outside in said leggings your arse is exposed. Yes, even the itsy, bitsy g-string you're wearing is visible. 

As with all 'fashionable' items once they have hit the catwalk, received an influx of demand and therefore proved popular enough to warrant copies, a trend is born. However, leggings are beyond a simple 'trend' they have had somewhat of a boom, transcending from comfort-wear to the profile of everyday uniform. Of course your price range has a lot to account for, namely how much of your derriere is exposed. I highly doubt there is anything see-through about the studded balmain beauties that have bedecked many an editor-in-cheif since their creation. Whereas the Primark pairs that march around town, that cost little more than the newspaper that wraps your chips, offer little to no coverage. These unfortunately are the leggings that plague my existence. 

Though I realise the difficulty in finding the 'perfect' jeans and therefore the relief found in the stretch of leggings, it does not redeem them in my book. Even those blessed with pins to die for cannot avoid the saggy knee situation and the even more pitiful saggy crotch predicament. Instead of celebrating the female body, they merely swathe it in ill-fitting stretch fabric, that poorly covers the female form in a shabbiness akin to laziness rather than chicness. In a world of supposed freedom, where women can do whatever and wear whatever they want, why do women continue to wear these leggings? All that they communicate is a vulgar display of a society oblivious to what these leggings actually convey, and that is a lack of inspiration - a stunted ability to express our individuality.

The shocking entrance of Sandy from Grease in the outfit that signalled her transformation from high school prep to pink lady babe, is configured through her figure hugging satin leggings. Despite this metamorphosis being fuelled by the need to win over a guy (a discussion in itself) the leggings become a symbol of Sandy's transition from girl to woman, the embracement of her sexuality and the end of the film. Nowadays leggings give a considerably different message. Sandy has vanished and in her place is the Everywoman, an army of crotch exposed females, parading arse out around town. Something makes me think that Sandy might have opposed the crudeness of this sartorial staple.

(Photo: leblow.co.uk)

Do I want leggings mass destroyed? No. I enjoy having the comfort of a slouchy pant for those can't-be-arsed days. What I would encourage though is a bit of experimentation. Whether that is a fabulous pair of jeans, a well tailored pair of trousers, a figure flattering skirt, I mean the list could go on. The sartorial offerings out there are numerous and women should not limit themselves to being forever clad in leggings. 

But if you cannot bear to part ways with your beloved leggings, then please could you do me a favour? Invest in a long top, something that goes beyond crotch level. If change is not the answer then coverage will have to do. Sigh...

HOMEGIRL SS14

Here's a little story. 

One day I was sat bored in work, so I did what any self respecting twenty-first-century girl would do and I trawled through twitter. Upon my perusal I fell upon Vogue's review of the Henry Holland S/S 2014 collection. Needless to say I was no longer bored.

Henry Holland is a bit of an anomaly to me. Don't get me wrong I'd recognise Holland in a line up. I vaguely remember the slogan tees but as for any other fashion moments, well lets just say I've always figured him as the Eliza Doolittle of the fashion world - famous for being, well, famous. His collections always seemed to get more buzz for the front row rather than the actual garments coming down the runway. What with him being able to boast some of the fashion elite as his closest BFFs (Pixie, Alexa, Cara, Daisy, Kelly, Grimmy... to name just a few.)

However, his new collection floored me. His focus on shape and structure, his use of print and colour, his feminine yet tomboyish design, the lace, the gingham, the florals, THAT copper metallic bomber  jacket. This was a collection of excess, taking inspiration from Baz Luhrmann's 1996 film 'Romeo and Juliet', Latin-American Catholic iconography, and the gritty landscapes of Mexico, culminating in a distinctly feminine aesthetic that resonated cool from every stitch. 

Holland's sense of humour is ever present, yet the 'homegirl' walking down the runway had an undeniably ladylike quality about her. The shape, the length, the nipped-in waists, the provocative lace inserts, the boxy silhouettes cut high upon the thigh, the red pout-enhancing lipstick, the slicked back hair and the delicate quality street coloured strappy sandals; the sexiness of the clothing was undeniable. However, what elevated his collection for me was the juxtaposition of this sexiness with the gold hooped earrings, the low peaked caps, the phone holsters and the holographic sunglasses that deeply rooted his looks in the realm of 'hood' life.

If money was no object then this collection would be mine, but alas a dedication post will have to suffice. However, I do see gingham in my fashion future (although hopefully more Holland than Dorothy), I also see my fixation of the midi growing (perfect for those days when shaving seems too much of a chore or when the white glare of your legs is just that little bit too blinding) and finally I see my quest for the perfect lace dress becoming ever more urgent. 

 (All photos thestyleexaminer)

Holland, if you're reading this; respect homeboy.

CLONE LIFE

To a great extent print media is dominated by pictorial representations of the very stories they coexist alongside, which are in turn intermingled with various advertisements. This is not a new phenomenon; magazines inform through the medium of both written text and pictorial documentation, being a feast both for the eyes and the mind. Anna Wintour describes Vogue as the ‘cultural barometer’ of society, a hefty mission statement if ever I’ve heard one. The role of the magazine is thus to capture an entire cultural moment before it has even happened, prophesizing trends and interests before the regular folk (that’s you and I) have even seen it coming. I mean who’d have thought Puffer jackets would have made a comeback?!

However, nowadays adverts are not merely a vehicle of brand promotion but also of the people behind the photo. Models, stylists, makeup artists, photographers, pretty much everyone involved in the creation of the image is desirable to the general fashion public. We want their knowledge, their stories, and more often than not, their wardrobes. Consequently fashion is extricated from the confines of the magazine pages as mannequin and model, stylist and socialite and photographer and ph… (okay that’s where my alliteration ends but you get the point) are blended seamlessly. The result is somewhat of a fashion personality, which quickly transitions to the status of celebrity. Models and the fashion elite (Alexa Chung, Cara Deleveigne, Karlie Kloss, Kate Moss, Anna Dello Russo etc…) are as popular – arguably more so – than the clothes they are wearing/modeling.

Whilst I consider the rise of fashion personalities a hugely exciting element of fashion (allowing keen fashion devourers like myself evermore exposure into an increasingly undiluted world of fashion), I can see how this can also be considered an alienating fact. Did my grandmother recognize the cultural significance of Marc Jacobs using the notoriously staid Victoria Beckham in his tongue in cheek advertisement? Probably not.* 

The growth of social media has had a significant hand in promoting the image of the fashion world as something increasingly tangible. It is now possible to watch a fashion show hundreds of miles away whilst in the comfort of your own home, someone else’s home, on a park bench, on the move or in fact, any continent, anytime, and anyone can do it. There are no boundaries, fashion media is now continually updated minute by minute and it has never been as readily available or as easily transportable as it is now. People want to be closer to fashion, want to be a part of the world, want to experience it as it happens. Today’s society is built upon a culture of images; point in fact the rise of sites like Instagram and Tumblr. The world of fashion is therefore not only documented at a moments notice but is also made all the more enticing by the use of photographic filters that not only allow you to record life but also manipulate the very aesthetic of it. Not only do the clothes look remarkable but the fashion bubble surrounding it looks utterly delightful too.  

However, my grandmother is less so impressed by all of this. Her true love is of the clothing, in their material sense rather than the celebrity buzz or promotion and she prefers to follow her own sartorial compass rather than the trend forecast. It seems blasphemous to admit but whether Kate Moss wears skinny jeans or bell-bottoms on her morning round is of little importance to my gran. The generational shift in this scenario is obvious, there has been a definite move in interest from actual fashion garment to catwalk model to model off duty to celebrity and this has left many, including my gran, disconnected from the pages of her favourite fashion magazines. Does it make the clothing any better if the highest paid model is wearing them? No. There may be a fashion frenzy over who can get the best picture of said model or in worst case scenario detract attention from the clothing if it falls short but ultimately they will have no influence or impact on the makeup of the clothes they are modelling.

Of course, with most arguments, I am generalizing hugely, not all magazines feature models in the celebrity sense but it is increasingly becoming less and less common for the two to be considered separate entities. The categories that once separated model from actress and vice-versa are all the more fluid. Actresses now endorse fashion brands (Emma Watson became a fashion darling due in large part to her association with Burberry), models are now turning their hand at designing themselves (both Rosie Huntington-Whiteley and Elle Macpherson designing lingerie lines) and models like Tyra Banks and Heidi Klum branching into television. No longer can fashion be as neatly packaged as it previously had been. The fashion industry is after all a business. In its simplest sense fashion is a product that needs to be sold and celebrities are a guaranteed means of doing this.

Whilst the printed representation of fashion is a powerful means of generating fashion buzz it is by far not the only or most popular means of doing so. In a society built upon fast trends, the focus is not how to procure the item but rather what is to be done once the garment is secured. And with the pace at which fashion now moves, can a monthly magazine (though supposedly forecasting trends months/seasons in advance) keep up? For my grandmother the race has been lost. The printed word focuses now upon bringing the trends through the lens of celebrity. But what of the art of fashion? What of its craft and history? What of the future? No longer do magazines weave a text of fashion, communicating the intricacies of fashion as art, giving voice to material. Rather it offers categorized pictures, silencing the rhetoric of fashion individuality and instead perpetuating a sense of uniformity. Seasons are organized as trends but the focus then narrows on to what is deemed ‘trendy’, what the fashion personalities/celebrities are wearing and what in turn we should be wearing.  

It’s a difficult gap to bridge, magazines are in competition with the various forms of social media and in a bid to remain relevant it’s easy to become oversaturated with the celebrity culture surrounding fashion rather than fashion in it’s purest sense. Despite this I know I’ll remain a loyal follower and avid reader of my favourite magazines. I fully admit I’m just as interested in what Rihanna wore last Thursday as the next person but the only trend I’ll be following is the one my grandmother has set and that’s to wear whatever the hell I want. I mean isn’t that ultimately what fashion is all about? Can my outfits ever be considered ‘out of fashion’ or ‘so last season’ if my opinion is the only one that matters to me? The answer is no. So here it is, my individuality is out. You’ve been warned! 

(All pictures my own)

*(An interesting thought: what was he trying to communicate in putting Victoria Beckham in one of his shopping bags? Does buying his product buy you the credentials of celebritydom? Illustrating my point of the fashion personality and the fashion product becoming ever more indistinguishable.)