Re-artification in a World of De-artification: Materiality and Intellectualization in Fashion Media Discourse (1949–2010)

Haute couture, materiality and the sedate fashion show

In 1949–50 and 1959–60 the journalists of the NYT and IHT addressed in great detail the materiality of fashion. They described the fabrics used and the visual characteristics of the materials, discussed whether designers skillfully handled the materials and reported on how the clothes looked on the models’ or imagined costumers’ bodies, which constitute a crucial part of the materiality of fashion (Entwistle, 2000). Interestingly, such observations on the materiality of fashion often occurred together with notifications about the commercial aspects of sartorial fashion.

Journalists recurrently probed whether the presented fashions would flatter the (imagined) bodies wearing the clothes. For instance, Eugenia Sheppard disapproved of Jules Crahay’s suits, which are ‘not apt to come off. Nobody is going to want to look like a pregnant dame in a Renaissance painting’ (1959: 1). The craftsmanship with which designers handled fabrics likewise merited much attention. Gilbert Orcel, for instance, ‘shows one of the best collections he has ever made. Its excellence is evident in perfection of technique, subtlety of colors and manipulation of fabrics’ (Noël, 1950: 7). Ten years later, the craftsmanship of Hubert de Givenchy again impressed journalists.

Dresses were a host of little nothings, sleeveless slips with shiny leather belts tied at the waist in a bow. They looked as if they could be run up in a morning, but their masterly cutting and seaming would defeat any but the best couturier. (NYT, 1960: 6)

As invisible as great craftsmanship thus was in the material production of fashionable clothing, it was highly visible on the pages of the selected newspapers in 1949–50 and 1959–60.

The materials used in the collection were another focal point in the reviews. In this postwar period journalists reported extensively on the fabrics used for different occasions and pinpointed materials from a wide range of fabrics and fabric combinations. In addition, journalists often described the place of production, production process, and practical features of the materials. In 1949, Noël informed her readers on the woollen houses that produced the materials for the winter collection of couturier Charles Montaigne: ‘[b]asket weaves, dotted wools, beautiful French weaves come into the picture from all the best-known wool houses, Lesur, Moreau, Rodier, Meyer, Dormeuil, Dumas and Maury’ (1949: 5). When in the 1950s and 1960s synthetic fibers became increasingly popular in luxury fashion (Blaszczyk, 2008: 6–7), the journalists carefully considered the advantages and potential drawbacks. In 1960 they found that ‘[a]rtificial fibers, such as Tergal, Crylor, Rhodianyl and Ramie ribbon, all contribute to the knitwear news’ (Noël, 1960: 6).

Notably, in these early reference years journalists often entangled reports on the actual ‘stuff’ of fashion with observations on the commercial aspects of the aesthetic economy of fashion. For instance, a journalist combined her account of the materials used in the Rochas collection with an explanation of ‘the initial cost of a lampshade tiered shantung taffeta gray evening gown, requiring 50 meters at 3,000 francs, taking 250 working hours and costing about $950’ (IHT, 1949: 5). Moreover, when occasionally fashion reviews were accorded a full publication page or when collection reports were moved to the front page, this recognition of the valence of fashion reporting appeared as an acknowledgement of the commercial underpinnings of fashion (Van de Peer, 2013: 137). Journalists emphasised such commercialism when they described the opinions of international buyers, mentioning the price of the presented garments, or discussing the consumer budget required to purchase the clothes. Nevertheless, the reports on commercial topics occurred to a large extent in reviews of ‘young’ couturiers’ collections or of ready-to-wear and boutique collections. In short, in the first reference years NYT and IHT journalists primarily considered topics that referred to a material conception of the nature of fashionable dress. They often wove together this conception with observations acknowledging the commercial roots of fashion. This is not surprising given the structural organization of high-fashion production at the time.

From the latter half of the 19th century to the late 1960s, Parisian haute couture was the ‘unrivalled laboratory for novelty’ (Lipovetsky, 2002: 56). Other sources of fashion, such as mass-produced ready-to-wear, small dressmakers and home sewers, almost exclusively looked at couture for an authoritative stand on future fashion (Grumbach, 2008), which was often dictated in a unified look or silhouette (Blumer, 1969: 280). Before the Second World War, couture houses tended to be owned by the couturiers themselves or by family members. The couture chiefly produced clothing and only to a lesser extent subsidiary fashion goods, such as perfume (Crane, 2000: 141). Their signatures on the label evoked an aura of uniqueness for couture garments (Crane, 2000: 132–70; Steele, 1998).

Despite some scholars attributing a degree of artification to the period before the 1960s (Crane, 2012), new fashion histories have argued that from its early systemic state the couture has been identified by commercial endeavors, as it was ‘a global export industry’ (Evans, 2013: 2). Its commercial goals were imprinted on the material of sartorial fashion, such as the couture label indicating the varying degrees of monetary value of fashionable dress (Troy, 2003). In the defilés of the pre-war period, business and materiality were further allied. Shows were primarily viewed as direct sales events (Evans, 2013) and the primary focus was thus on the garments. In 1949–50 and 1959–60 journalists of the NYT and IHT also emphasized the presented clothes in the reviews, while they commented little on the venue, audience or atmosphere of the showing, which was an overall silent event that could last for several hours. Only a vendeuse or mannequin called out the name, product number and price of the garments during the presentation (2013: 149). This literal mapping of the commercial on the material of models’ bodies, who were wearing ‘industrial smiles’ (2013: 185), again illustrates how the two features share a long tradition of convergence in the fashion system. For instance, couturiers pitted themselves against mannequins, whose bodies represented commerce, when they sought to construct an artistic aura for themselves in autobiographical writings. (Parkins, 2012: 138).

Yet in a fashion culture where couturiers often claimed not to be interested in business at all, NYT and IHT journalists instead combined discussions of materiality and business, as they drew attention to what they put forward as designers’ principal sales product, i.e. beautifully cut garments in a wide variety of luxurious fabrics that should flatter the wearer’s body.

Only in the 1970s did fashion shows develop into their current state of promotion and story-telling, which focused more on display context than the actual ‘stuff’ of fashion (Crane, 2000: 146). The next section explores such increasing image-orientation in connection to the rise of institutionalized ready-to-wear, which provided the organizational backcloth for the first serious cracks in the reign of couture.

The retreat of materiality and commerce

In the collection reviews of 1969–70 the journalists started to write differently about the collections. Whereas in the early reference years journalists frequently discussed prices and budgets, they almost never mentioned such markers of the commercial in the later reference years. Also, craftsmanship received far less attention. ³ In October 1979 an IHT journalist even defended the collection of French créateur Thierry Mugler, which others had found lacking in technical skills: ‘[s]ome purists argue that he does not know his trade too well. In our day and age, that might pass for a compliment’ (IHT, 1979: 7). This disregard for the material aspects of fashion creation increased over time, and by the turn of the century Suzy Menkes combined her disinterest in craftsmanship with a demise of the importance attached to the beautifying relationship between clothing and the living body: ‘[t]he one thing [Stella] McCartney still can’t do is to cut a dress: hers clutch and cling even at a model’s non-existent curves. Who cares?’ (2000b: 20).

Furthermore, the journalists discontinued their elaborate descriptions of the raw materials of a collection, i.e. the fabrics. Although they kept pointing to the fabrics’ visual characteristics (colors and textures), they did not inform readers of the exact type of fabric. An examination of the education levels of the fashion journalists of the NYT and IHT suggests that journalists may no longer master the technical fashion knowledge required to report in detail on various fabrics and techniques. In 1950 Carrie Donovan of the NYT graduated from Parson’s School of Design in New York. In contrast, Cathy Horyn, until recently of the NYT, holds a master’s degree in journalism from Northwestern University. ⁴ It is thus likely that current critics enter fashion journalism with a different background knowledge that makes them less attuned to the technical aspects of dressmaking.

Interestingly, also a particular strand of fashion design education gradually de-emphasized technical proficiency in the late 20th century. In Britain (McRobbie, 1998) and Belgium (Nicewonger, 2013), a new type of fashion school emerged in the late 1970s. These ‘conceptual fashion schools’ (McRobbie, 1998: 48) were pitted against ‘professional fashion schools’ (1998: 43). Where the latter continued the earlier technical tradition of preparing students to work in the mass-manufacturing industry, the former educated students to create designs that were the result of an extensive thought-process. Like fine arts students, conceptual school students were thus taught to consider the fashion medium as a site for reflection. Key to their identity is an overall intellectual creation of fashion which, according to one of McRobbie’s (1998: 38) informants, is related to the repudiation of technical skills: ‘[n]ot to be able to sew is a matter of pride!’.

The rise of prêt-à-porter

The waning sense of fashion as a material endeavor can be understood better in light of the rise of prêt-à-porter and a connected new consumer lifestyle. The new fashion culture that grew out of this structural change in high-fashion production put more emphasis on image-production. In contrast with the older conception, about whom a journalist noted in 1969 that ‘there lingers still the pretense in some haute couture houses that they are not in commerce at all’ (IHT, 1969: 5), the new structural organization of the field displayed more clearly the commercial complexion of fashion.

In the late 1960s a younger generation of couturiers, who gestured toward contemporary music culture and street styles (Steele, 1998: 278–81), shocked the Parisian establishment. These designers revolutionized the field because they synchronized the internal changes at hand to external social changes that primarily marked a serious transition in women’s lifestyle (Bourdieu, 1993a: 134–5). The more fast-paced and career-minded lifestyle increasingly distanced consumers from couture designs. Consequently, this synchronization answered to new expectations of high-fashion. In this context ready-to-wear gained legitimacy as a type of high fashion. The international fashion world had recognized this old segment of the industry to some extent, especially in Britain and the US (Green, 1997). Also in France mass-produced ready-to-wear garments had gained momentum under the designation of confection (Lipovetsky, 1992: 90–1). Nonetheless, it was only through the inclusion of ready-to-wear in the Parisian institutionalized fashion system in 1973, when the Fédération Française de la Couture du Prêt-à-porter des Couturiers et des Créateurs de Mode recognized ready-to-wear as an ‘official’ genre, that these goods, renamed prêt-à-porter, received an unprecedented seal of approval. This set apart the luxury prêt-à-porter créateurs from other mass-producing designers (Kawamura, 2004). With the growing popularity of luxury prêt-à-porter more and more couture houses added this genre to their repertoire, switched to it entirely or simply went out of business. From the 106 couture houses in 1945 only 23 remained in 1975 (2004: 44)

Between 1965 and 1975 the underlying structures of high-fashion production thus shifted (Kawamura, 2004: 52). This resulted in a new fashion culture in which prêt-à-porter now set trends instead of following the couture (Steele, 1998: 281), though the tradition of couture never entirely disappeared (Crane, 2000: 238). Fashion houses relied more on the sale of subsidiary fashion products, such as perfume and handbags, than on clothes-production to make a profit (Crane, 2000: 142). In this context the nature of high-fashion production shifted ‘from material production to image-production’ (Kawamura, 2004: 85). As Lash and Urry (1994) have shown, it is through the notion of the brand that images are attached to goods. Fashion designers were indeed expected to create and distribute a unifying image of their fashion house (Aspers, 2010; Kawamura, 2004). Furthermore, by the late 20th century most designers had lost the autonomy over their own business. Particularly in Europe, luxury conglomerates now own fashion companies.

Key to contemporary designers’ public exposure is a fashion show in one of the major fashion centers and the media attention that comes with it. By the late 1970s fashion shows had evolved into theatrical spectacles, staged in highly visible public venues (Gregg Duggan, 2001). Through their multimedial character these shows sought to project meanings and associations around the clothes. ⁵ Although designers often presented eccentric clothes that did not make it to boutiques or department stores, the shows were centered more on assisting industry professionals to make sense of a designer’s ‘vision’ for a collection (Entwistle, 2009: 134) than on the actual garments on display. The new type of fashion show facilitated an understanding of the overhanging scripts, themes and images that turned the staged clothes into carriers of ideas that the designer wanted to convey to the public. The NYT and IHT fashion writers eagerly endorsed the new image- and narrative-orientation of the shows. They repeatedly emphasized that designers needed to know ‘how to put a theme across’ (Dorsey, 1980: 5) or to develop ‘a story line’ (Menkes, 2000a: 8). When successful, contemporary fashion shows thus conceptualize an image or story that often spills over into more wearable and saleable clothes and into more affordable and profitable subsidiary products.

Designer fashion as intellectual endeavor

Hitherto I have contextualized the late 20th-century image-orientation of fashion in a new organizational structuring of the field, which led to an increasing recognition of the business logic of fashion. I observed how NYT and IHT journalists supported image-orientation and moved the focus away from material production, which now left open a conceptual space to comprehend high-end fashion design in fashion media discourse. In the 1980s a new way to think about fashion began to circulate within and around the prêt-à-porter, namely the view of designer fashion as an intellectual process. In both fashion design and journalistic discourses the conception emerged that abstract ideas preceded and underpinned the clothes presented on the catwalk, resulting in the expectation for designer fashion to be ‘so intellectually brilliant that it took your breath away’ (Menkes, 2010f: 9).

In the 1980s and 1990s the work of several designers who showed in Paris and who were nearly all graduates of ‘conceptual fashion schools’ sparked the articulation of an intellectual conception in journalistic discourse. Scholars have dubbed these designers as ‘conceptual’ after the perceived formal similarities with the concept-oriented approaches in the arts (Clark, 2012: 67), which preceded conceptual fashion by nearly 20 years. The fashion collections of ‘conceptual’ designers indeed pondered the same type of ideas, such as ‘art-reflexive ideas’ and ‘socio-political’ ideas (Schellekens, 2012: 76). Conceptual designers’ work reflected on the systemic state of fashion production by transgressing conventional ideas of beauty, femininity and the body (Kawamura, 2004: 125–49), while also debating wider societal developments. Therefore, one may understand this fashion approach within a wider artistic context where, in the aftermath of the heydays of conceptual art between 1965 and 1975, ‘addressing the artworld’s internal functioning and an overtly politically engaged attitude ha[d] become vastly entrenched within the visual arts’ (Laermans, forthcoming). Clark’s (2012: 74) conclusion that ‘conceptual fashion can conceivably exist without the production of an object’ further brings to mind Sol LeWitt’s (1967: 12) famous comment that in conceptual art ‘the execution is a perfunctory affair’ and that the idea is always primary in its appeal to the mind. ⁶

NYT and IHT journalists welcomed critical fashion design for its appeal to the mind in 1989–90, the first reference year in which conceptual fashion design had appeared in the major fashion centers. The Rifat Ozbek collection is ‘giving viewers something to think about over the weekend’ (Morris, 1989: 7), and 10 years later Cathy Horyn celebrated the Viktor & Rolf collection because it ‘made you think of fashion in a different way’ (1999: 1). In particular, idea-centered fashion design let the public reflect on issues in wider society or socio-political ideas. In a recent interview Suzy Menkes stated that she believes fashion design to be capable of such reflection (Collins, 2013: 67). Writing on the Greek designer Sophia Kokosalaki’s collection, Menkes appreciatively noted that the clothes were ‘meant to resemble a burning forest. These vistas of Greece’s countryside and a covert reference to last summer’s fires gave depth to a collection’ (2010e: 9, my emphasis). And in the NYT Hussein Chalayan was described as ‘a one-man think tank, a philosopher and engineer, artist and showman … Suddenly, all the other people who call themselves designers seem little more than stylists’ (Bellafante, 2000: 6).

Journalists also celebrated designers when they unsettled conventions of the fashion field, as Muccia Prada who

was making a fairly simple but profound comment about who has the right to say what is tasteful and pretty, and who doesn’t. In themselves, the knee-length silk dresses … are exhilarating. … these largely happy clothes express a clear reading of the uncomplicated way a lot of young and ambitious women view fashion and the media. (Horyn, 2010: 16; emphasis added)

Where in the early reference years journalists thus disclosed the reality of fashion as constituted by fabrics, living bodies and skillful technique, by the late 20th century they let such material aspects retreat, for ‘good’ fashion now lifted ‘them [clothes] beyond body coverings, imbuing them with higher intellectual meaning’ (White, 1999b: 1).

Designers deliver truly ‘great’ fashion when addressing ‘the mind’s eye’. For instance, Suzy Menkes wonders:

What is it about Prada that sets her light years ahead of the rest? It is the thought process – the way she appears to embrace the current world, so that the mind’s eye sees the new President Barack Obama in the long slim silhouette and the Russian oil mongers in the studded boots, although there is never an overt suggestion of these realities. The shows, therefore, become intensely political, yet, when broken down to a sweater, a shirt or a tough-man bag, are just offering enticing modern fashion. When it comes to ideas, Prada is certainly not running on empty. (2009c: 14, emphasis added)

All of the above citations illustrate how journalists articulated the idea-centered conception of fashion in the language of what Fredric Jameson (1984: 61) has called the modernist ‘depth model’. While journalists located the materials of fashion on the visual surface level, they wanted good high-end fashion to convey ‘an underlying message’ (Menkes, 2010a: 6, emphasis added), so that ‘the thinking behind it [the clothes] was unburdened’ (Horyn, 2009a: 24, emphasis added), because designers need ‘to bring depth to bare-bones fashion’ (White, 1999a: 8, emphasis added). The depth model is further connected to the equally modern idea of an autonomous centered subject expressing outwardly what is in his/her mind (Jameson, 1984: 63). In the journalists’ vision, high-fashion designers were indeed such modern subjects, who have to know how to ‘to base a collection on a concept [and] express it … in clothes’ (Horyn, 2000: 1). Journalists thus aligned the idea of the autonomous subject with the notion of expression and ‘a whole metaphysics of the inside and the outside’ (Jameson, 1984: 61) in their review practice. Menkes thought that ‘Mr. Kane’s viewpoint … was to savor for its outward prettiness and to ponder for its interior vision’ (2010c: 13, emphasis added). Hence, journalists allocated fashion’s material grounds to a less valorized plane, when sustaining a modern binary of depth and surface in the promotion of fashion design as an intellectual practice.

In 1999–2000 journalists still limited the discourse of intellectualization to discussions of designers’ work falling under the ‘conceptual’ rubric. But in 2009–10 their reviews increasingly promoted more conventional-style designers, who tend to present clothes that are more easily marketable, to view designer fashion as a site to explore socio-political and fashion-reflexive ideas. When designers did not live up to these expectations, journalistic reactions were hostile. In 2010 Menkes (2010d: 9) found, for instance, that ‘the D&G show was what the fashion trade calls a no-brainer: A bunch of appealing, sexy clothes’. And Horyn disapproved of the Marc Jacobs collection: ‘[t]he thinking behind these extremely feminine clothes was lighthearted, and possibly just light’ (2009: 18, emphasis added). By the turn of the 21st century journalists thus regarded all high-end fashion design as a medium for critical reflection. The concluding section considers the objectives that journalists seek to achieve when they use the rhetorical strategy that the modernist depth model affords.