Each week, the Open Thread newsletter will offer a look from across The New York Times at the forces that shape the dress codes we share, with Vanessa Friedman as your personal shopper. The latest newsletter appears here. To receive it in your inbox, register here.
Happy day-after-International Women’s Day. I have to say, I don’t think I have ever gotten so many emails touting special products or events. Even Ladurée, the macaron specialist, created a signature pastry.
You can understand why, in the #MeToo and Time’s Up world. One of the odder effects of the movement, however, has been its impact on the catwalks over the last month: It effectively sent designers down a wormhole to the 1980s, the decade when glass-ceiling-breaking really became expressed via clothes.
I am talking about those shoulder pads, of course. They were the single biggest trend of the fashion season. Plus the unabashed bling and glitz of the era, now being revived by the Trump administration.
As someone who remembers the 1980s, I have mixed feelings about this, which I am going to explore in an upcoming column. So I’d be very interested in your thoughts on the matter, if you could share them in an email.
Continue reading the main storyOtherwise, what else should you expect to see in stores come August, when all this finally hits?
1) A lot of ponchos. It was the most ubiquitous outerwear garment. If you are someone (like me) who tends to use a shoulder bag, ponchos can make you look like Quasimodo. But the symbolism — a portable protective tent — makes sense.
2) Shirtdresses. Again, everywhere from Junya Watanabe to Alexander McQueen. Easy, both to wear and to like. Retailers were psyched.
3) Argyle. At Louis Vuitton, Nicolas Ghesquière even showed an argyle sweater with sequined pants for evening. At Fendi the pattern was beaded into a cape. Not sure why, but maybe Brexit got everyone thinking about Scottish knitwear and what they might be losing?
4) Sock booties, especially spangled and shiny. I think there was a pair at every accessory presentation in Milan. Probably attributable to the ’80s thing.
And with that, I think we will say goodbye to fashion month and move on to other image-making subjects. For those who haven’t yet had your fill of the shows, check out reviews of the last gasps of Paris, plus our top 10 moments of the month (In related, sad, news: Jun Takahashi, the designer behind Undercover, one of the best shows all season, is apparently taking a break from the women’s wear circus to focus on men’s.) In the meantime, on to more global matters with this week’s Q&A. Have a good weekend!
Your Style Questions, Answered
Every week on Open Thread, Vanessa will answer a reader’s fashion-related question, which you can send to her anytime via email or Twitter. Questions are edited and condensed.
Q: I noticed in the picture of President Trump holding his crib sheet during his listening session on gun control that his shirt cuff was monogrammed with “45.” What are the conventions with monograms and men’s shirts, and what is your opinion of this innovation? — Martha, Minneapolis
A: I know I am slightly late to this issue. You weren’t the only one who noticed, and it was a big Twitter moment while I was in Paris in the netherworld of fashion shows. It seems to me this is the monogram equivalent of the novelty T-shirt, though more about vanity than, say, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s novelty socks, which are pretty obviously chosen for their strategic appeal to various constituencies.
However, I did seize the opportunity to canvass some of my fellow show-goers about the question, to see if there was precedent for this (always an important thing in government) and to hear what they thought.
Robin Givhan, the fashion critic of the Washington Post, said she couldn’t remember any President wearing their number on their sleeve, though it was possible George W. Bush had done it, since he was often referred to by number (“43”) to distinguish him from his father. I could not find any examples of him wearing 43-monogrammed shirts, though that does not mean he doesn’t have them.
And Hamish Bowles, the international editor-at-large for Vogue, said he had just had some shirts made and had gotten into a very deep discussion with his tailor about the etiquette around monogramming. Apparently, Brits have them done on the body of a shirt in line with the third button down, but Germans choose to monogram the turn-back of the cuff.
Either way, he said, it’s always initials — he’d never heard of someone monogramming their number, even an athlete, who is often known by that shorthand. But he could see the rationale, given the whole concept is “a status symbol for the stuffed-shirt set.” — VANESSA FRIEDMAN
Continue reading the main story