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The 50th anniversary of the Village
Voice Obie awards took place the other night, a historic
event that got us thinking about the last 50 years of
fashion, and in particular the ways in which downtown,
avant-garde types—the very kind of people invariably honored
with Obies—have expressed themselves through clothes for
the last half century.
This is a subject of great interest to us, an enthusiasm
stretching back decades, since the days when we were desperate
to dress cool while not looking like a capitalist-lackey
sell-out. (In fact, it wasn't until we saw Jean-Luc Godard's
Tout Va Bien, which featured Marxist girls in 1940s-style
silk dresses and crimson lipstick, that we were emboldened
to reconcile our politics with our sartorial impulses.
This is a film that Jane Fonda says she can't remember
making, which is odd, since it changed our life.)
Anyway, there we were at the cocktail
party preceding the Obies, surrounded by old Voice covers
showing young women with long straight hair in black ensembles
and flat shoes, with a haunting jazz soundtrack playing
in the background, when we began to put together a mental
list: What are the staples of the ur-bohemian wardrobe?
What themes have lasted for at least 50, and in some cases
closer to 100, years? What could Louise Bryant, Edna St.
Vincent Millay, Lee Krasner, or any other incredible dames
have worn that we might wear too?
Though there's a slight complication
in the fact that many bohemian staples—things like dungarees
and striped French sailor shirts—have crossed over into
the mainstream, and the general slovenliness that currently
grips the America masses makes every truck driver and
stock broker look like a drunk poet, certain distinct
theme nevertheless emerge. Among them:
The dissolute dancer: This look depends
on scoop-necked leotards, leggings, wrap-around sweaters,
and ballet slippers. Talk about venerable—it's been around
at least since the mid 19th century, when the ballet rats
(many of whom were also junior prostitutes) were painted
by Degas.
The left-bank intellectual: This unisex
look depends heavily on jeans—maybe with rolled cuffs—the
aforementioned striped shirt, a navy surplus pea jacket,
and to dispel any doubt that you may have just thrown
these ingredients together and are not in fact reading
Deleuze, a beret.
The Upper West Side political activist:
Actually, wearers of these ensembles can live anywhere,
though in our mind she's a lady of a certain age who always
inhabits a huge apartment and has spent the last century
holding meetings to free Sacco and Vanzetti, save the
Rosenbergs, end nuclear proliferation, vote the Bushes
out of office, etc. For these get-togethers, she wears
flowing comfy layers of batik-dyed chiffon and gigantic
jewelry—amber beads, ear-stretching copper plates, et
al.
Which brings us to: The ethnic adventuress:
This look has surprisingly early roots, dating back at
least to Frieda Kahlo. Forty years ago, you could have
bought Mexican wedding dresses at the famous Fred Leighton
on MacDougal Street, and you can still buy an authentic
Rumanian peasant blouse at Surma on East 7th Street, though
some of them are made in China. Then again, you can add
something that was actually made in China from Pearl River.
A '50s dirndl skirt, printed with scenes of the Eiffel
Tower or Dutch windmills or other such far-flung locales
is another alternative, and this can be found in a thrift
shop—or maybe at the Prada outlet in Woodbury Common,
since they made replicas of these skirts a centerpiece
of their collection last spring. As it turns out, Miuccia
Prada, the doyenne of the company and a former communist
herself, knows a thing or two about offbeat dressing.
Last year, when she won the CFDA award, she showed up
at the black-tie party in a plain little sweater and pleated
skirt with a diamond tiara on her head. Now that's bohemian.
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