Lazy labels

Going for gilt

Jane Mulvagh

The ten-year fashion cycle, identified 50 years ago by the historian James Laver, has predictably turned full circle as we leave the Eighties. At the beginning of the decade high fashion was synonymous with rebellion, rule-breaking and shock tactics. London was applauded for its irreverent, controversial, lines shown by Body Map, Vivienne Westwood and John Galliano. Now, as the Eighties fade into the Nine-

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ties, all, such imagination, experimentation and rebellion has been cast aside — dismis- sed as unwearable, uncommercial and un- feminine.

But sadly this has been replaced by a conservative and ubiquitous dulness. To look 'fashionable' is to conform to the Chanel mould. Herds of Chanel clones pad out every drinks party, professional board- room and cosmopolitan promenade as Chanel, or faux-Chanel from Next, Miss Selfridge, Windsmoor and Top Shop, has been taken up by the ranks of urban woman, from schoolgirls to grandmothers. This gilt chain gang, swinging with tacky `gold' necklaces like lord mayors, is bur- dened by the quilted navy-blue leather bags that inevitably hang from yet another gilt chain and totters on two-tone, high- heeled sling-backs. The mode is finished off by the fashionable tight-lipped express- ion achieved by oversized lozenge earrings pinching the lobe. The whole image screams 'magpie' rather than 'bird of para- dise'.

What women choose to wear reflects the escalating conservatism of the Thatcher and Reagan years. Conspicuous displays of wealth have been encouraged and it is largely a nouveau-riche performance. Its women delight in ostentation to the ap- plause of their menfolk who feel secure accompanied by a mate who proclaims his success and her own conservatism. She poses as a 'sensible', supportive and rich- looking accessory. Most Englishmen sanc- tion the look, for they have always loathed their women looking too 'original' or 'free- thinking'. The Chanel uniform is the per- fect sartorial vocabulary for the New Con- servatism.

Ironically Chanel would have abhorred this subversion of her original message. Her look was devised to proclaim inde- pendence and the chic of appearing low- key and unembellished; her 'poor look' had infinite chic. She ridiculed the ostenta- tion and artifice of her contemporaries and wanted to offer an easy, comfortable style of dress that highlighted its wearer's free spirit. make clothes women can live in, breathe in, feel comfortable in and look younger in,' she explained in the Twenties.

However, Karl Lagerfeld (the designer in charge of the label today) has recut the silhouette into the extremes of artifice and discomfort — shoulders are padded out out out, to outer Mongolia, waists are pinched in in in, to inner suburbia — heels are high high high to high-rise penthouse. It has been a massive commercial success be- cause he has given the classic look a sexy fillip.

From the woman's point of view the little neat suit and automatic accessories give the reassurance of a uniform. For those unsure of their own taste the Chanel look is regarded as an immediate sartorial OK; it is internationally acceptable, no- mistake dressing. Like air hostesses these women have bought a look from top to toe — it all matches and it loudly displays an `I'm well dressed, aren't I?' label. 'Fly me to middle-class security,' plead these Club- Class dolls.

Understandably, many women had be- come tired of having foisted on them ridiculous fashions that they could not understand and certainly could not match to their own life-style. Few have the time and even fewer the talent to create their own clothing style. So en masse they have turned to a uniform. Like the man's suit the Chanel cut offers neutrality and round- the-clock smartness. But personality, joie de vivre and spirit have been cast aside. It's all a very lazy answer. Even the high fashion world itself has adopted this uni- form. The corridors of glossy magazine offices are filled with aspiring fashion editors who dress more like bank tellers than style leaders.

This Chanel style has gone down very well in the middle-class ranks of English society because it is the true expression of Sloane dressing. Mummy wore gilt snaffles on her shoes, lectured her daughter on the sense and immutability of navy blue and favoured smart, rather than character or aesthetic, dress. Conform and you'll fit in, was her advice.

The fashion industry has turned its back on the dwindling youth market in favour of the over-thirties and for very sound corn- .

mercial reasons. It has been estimated that between 1980 and 1988 the number of 16- to 24-year-olds has fallen by nearly 13 per cent, while the 35 to 44 age bracket has expanded by almost 36 per cent. Flippy, self-expressive and fun clothes may suit the girl in the younger group but the smart suit is what her older sister demands. This older group also favours investment dress- ing. Burdened with mortgages, school fees and family expenses, they seek clothes that will last both stylistically and physically. We may be witnessing the demise of fashion as biannual change. Will this cen- tury see both the introduction of commer- cialised biannual collections at the begin- ning of the 1900s and their extinction by the end of the century? Fashion designers seem to be running out of ideas. There are only so many sartorial permutations on a body, and so the styles of the past are circulated again and again. put too many of these retro clothes are out of sync with contemporary life and can be dismissed as fancy dress.

I recently visited the Congo and was delighted by the individualisrh and sense of colour displayed by the African woman. Each had her own idiosyncratic style and colour; bold palettes, muted harmonies, witty prints danced across their fecund, dignified bodies. Leaving Brazzaville I flew into Zurich and my eyes were assaulted by the very epitome of Western chic — droves of navy blue and black Chanel suits, fur coats and tinny gilt accessories. Who has the sartorial edge?

'Bring me the head of Alfredo Garcia.'

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