NON FASHIZON

A post-fashion era

The great art critic Harold Rosenberg wrote, “The artist today is primarily a maker not of objects but of a public image of himself.” The archtyoe for this new attitude was Andy Warhol, who spent more time cultivating his persona than making art, which quickly stagnated after his overwhelming success in the ‘60s.

Looking ahead fifty years, we observe a comparable scenario in the realm of fashion. Numerous creative directors of renowned fashion houses prioritize their personal image over their artistic production. Furthermore, a power struggle exists between the dominance of the brand and that of its creative director.

Undoubtedly, fashion production is occurring at present, and in fact, more of it than ever before. Nevertheless, by and large, it has become relatively forgettable, characterized by commonplace garment models embellished with logos. Such fashion is overshadowed either by the personalities of its creators or by the brand image. The triumphant recipe for the contemporary creative director of a prominent brand comprises persona plus merchandise, equating to fashion design as a celebrity endorsing uninspired products. As a result, fashion design, as an art form, has receded to a secondary position to public image, functioning primarily as a marketing tool.

To examine this dynamic, consider what initially comes to mind when you think of Marc Jacobs. You might recall his 1992 Perry Ellis "grunge" collection, which brought him a certain level of notoriety, or his final all-black show for Louis Vuitton. Perhaps the Juergen Teller ad campaigns, or Jacobs's newly-toned physique circa 2010, advertised as part of his aptly-named fragrance, "Bang." 

Conversely, you may struggle to remember an outstanding show he has produced for his namesake brand. Although this work was once the most sought-after ticket in New York for over two decades, it has now become largely indistinguishable. While Jacobs has undoubtedly created groundbreaking moments at Louis Vuitton, such as his radical collaboration with artist Stephen Sprouse, your attention may gravitate towards the bags rather than the apparel. Nonetheless, Jacobs remains a prominent persona to this day, with an abundance of selfies available to satisfy his 1.7 million Instagram followers.

Tom Ford and his sophisticated, sunglasses-clad appearance, along with his immaculate suits, adorned with a precisely-positioned white handkerchief. You will likely recall how he infused Gucci with a sexy edge in the late 1990s, including the controversial "heroin chic" aesthetic. However, you may struggle to recollect a significant show of his own label, Tom Ford, that is truly memorable.

Hedi Slimane, the designer, exudes an indisputable aura, despite his penchant for producing a standard issue of indie rock gear for Celine that seems interchangeable with his creations at Saint-Laurent. Meanwhile, Virgil Abloh has held a significant influence over not only the fashion industry but also contemporary culture for years prior to his passing. Despite having designed an extensive array of products, it is difficult to recall a signature style or a memorable Off-White show.

Karl Lagerfeld, widely regarded as the arch-type of the 'larger than life creative director', has had a significant influence not just in fashion but also in popular culture. It is noteworthy that fashion designers are not typically recognized by the average person outside of the fashion industry. Lagerfeld's persona has remained a prominent figure for decades. However, his collections for Chanel were mostly indistinguishable, consisting of a vague and forgettable combination of Parisian haute bourgeois uniform, which is a stereotype in the minds of foreigners.

While it's important to acknowledge the talent of the aforementioned designers, it is worth noting that when we think about them, what often comes to mind are specific items or their distinctive public personas, rather than shows or innovative contributions to fashion or to designs aesthetic development. 

On the other hand, collections and aesthetic contributions to design generally from the likes of Alexander McQueen, John Galliano, Thierry Mugler, Martin Margiela, Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto, Rick Owens, among others, are deeply ingrained in our collective consciousness.

Contemporary luxury brands dont seek larger-than-life personalities to lead their fashion houses, but rather the thin veneer, a pale image of such an individual.

The creative directors in the fashion industry today are often pliant company minions, lacking the grandiosity of their predecessors or design talent. Any creative designer who still harbors illusions of grandeur is quickly reminded that the brand and merchandise are the key to fashion success, often leading to their dismissal. Alessandro Michele is a recent example of this trend. Although he increased Gucci's sales by multiples, his personality began fusing with the brand, which may have made management uncomfortable. “When a designer such as Alessandro Michele becomes too present for a brand – and customers start developing an emotional attachment towards that designer – it actually threatens the shareholders and management who in the end do not want a house to depend too much on a single individual,” says fashion critic Philippe Pourhashemi.


The conflict between the brands and creative directors is a manifestation of a symbiotic relationship that pervades the fashion industry. Some brands prefer to appoint creative directors from their existing staff, and once in their new roles, these directors are content with their increased visibility and higher salaries. Consequently, they tend to prioritize the brand's supremacy over their own creative vision, as evidenced by figures such as Virginie Viard at Chanel and Sarah Burton at Alexander McQueen.

Indeed, the success of a creative director is no longer solely dependent on their design skills and vision, but on their ability to create and maintain a strong personal brand and social media presence. This shift in priorities has resulted in an increasing number of brands hiring creative directors based on their celebrity status and social media influence rather than their design expertise. However, as the example of Matthew Williams and Givenchy shows, hype alone is not enough to ensure commercial success, and ultimately, it is the quality of the product that will determine its longevity in the market.


Warhol's view on the devaluation of artwork was evident in the name he chose for his studio, "The Factory." He implied that the mass-produced nature of his art made it similar to that of industry, and that his brand was what gave it value. Today, with the prevalence of logomania and plethora of collaborations that simply bash two logos together, it seems like a similar trend is occurring in fashion. 

This trend appears to be an attempt to conceal a lack of actual design. Warhol's famous quotes, such as "Good business is the best art" and "Everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes," accurately predicted the age of mass media, in which fame became more important than art. The era that followed Warhol's was one of post-art, which benefited commerce but not art itself. The work of artists such as Jeff Koonz and Damien Hirst appears sophomoric, and is only favourably compared when next to the work of hyped-up artists like Kaws and Daniel Arsham.


The fashion industry is currently experiencing a comparable phenomenon, and design is suffocating.

It is plausible that mediocrity proves beneficial for sales since it does not demand considerable contemplation or exertion on the part of an ordinary consumer. However, this approach poses a risk that individuals will eventually tire of the entire concept, as evidenced by the significant number of youth today who opt for second-hand shopping rather than conventional fashion. Whether this outlook will develop or pass remains uncertain. In any event, we welcome you to the post-fashion era.


BRICK

another wall, infinite walls

The role of art in society and how it reflects or shapes cultural values.