After all, black is the color of night, and night in Los Angeles is a special time. It was a souped-up DeLorean blasting us back to the time when there were still lines out front of Cinespace at 1 a.m. All those bands I mentioned above played that night. Slimane trotted out slim fits, black boots with giant heels, leather and just a smattering of sleaze. But black was as powerful two decades ago as it is now. celebrity history, far afield from the European brutality of Owens and Lamy. Hilton defined the garish, pastels-and-cheetah-print vibes of the “ Bimbo Summit” period of L.A. After all, how much do you need to do to draw attention to yourself if you’re carrying your husband’s head around Paris?ĭotting the front row of the show’s audience were 2000s celebrities like Beck and Paris Hilton, for whom Los Angeles culture is part of their identity. When black is deployed by artists on the level of Owens and Lamy, it can be a palette to create upon instead of a crutch. In a city defined by the way the sun illuminates the infinite spectrum of colors that our natural world has to offer, comfort can be found in the darkness. Lamy attended the event, in a sparkly noir ensemble and her trademark gold grills. Sprinkled among the skate aesthetic was work from Owens: a sofa that resembled a vampire’s crypt or panic room, a black basalt bench, a white marble table that could have been fresh from a cult sacrifice. Most of the work on display approximated the bits of street ephemera that skateboarders use as instruments of their craft - trash cans, park benches, fire hydrants. I first started toying with the idea of shedding color from my wardrobe at an exhibition of Owens’ wife, Michèle Lamy - “Turning Tricks” at Carpenters Workshop Gallery in Hollywood. As someone who grew up in California and got his start in the industry in L.A., it shouldn’t be shocking that his work would have a sense of play to it. Owens can also be futuristic, but his work often contains a chic sense of whimsy. The embrace of the darkness is an explicit part of that world. Black is the color of the dungeon, of fetish gear. Owens’ work is sexually provocative, recalling the stark look of S&M and bondage culture. In the right context, you’re basically Rick Owens, the American designer most associated with the exquisite black. In the wrong context, all-black can make someone look like a cater-waiter. It’s a simple, blunt statement of not quite superiority, but certainly of class. It communicates tone and temperament faster than most clothes. There’s a distancing quality to a primarily black outfit. Unlike me, someone you should always say hi to at a cocktail party. Even if their works can be laced with comedic or romantic asides, their reputations are that of the “serious artist.” The one you can’t easily approach at a cocktail party. David Lynch, David Cronenberg, Jim Jarmusch - iconoclastic filmmakers with a reputation for avant-garde works - are rarely seen in colors that aren’t deeply, midnight blacks. is many things, but a solemn place it is not. Black doesn’t fit with the Randy Newman “ Rollin’ down the Imperial Highway with a big nasty redhead at my side” vision of Los Angeles.Ī monochrome black outfit signals solemnity, austerity and a deep reserve of self-seriousness. Perhaps it’s more than just how hot it is outside most of the year. It is not a city that embraces the darkness, even if a nighttime stroll through a streetlight-averse neighborhood like Los Feliz might make you think otherwise. The sun, unobstructed by vertical living, penetrates deep into your soul here. Los Angeles is a place where wearing black is something close to a fire hazard. And I stocked up on white button-downs from Uniqlo. Studio Nicholson had an outrageously good sale. A practically brand-new black blazer from the Row fell into my lap during a routine check of the RealReal. I rehabilitated a pair of vintage Gucci trousers, scored an incredible polyamide/viscose Armani blazer that almost looks like velvet. Instead of having a full meltdown, I took inspiration from venerable designer Yohji Yamamoto and went headlong into my all-black era. Once I took a moment to breathe, I realized that the answers to most of my questions were “no” (or “no, plus that’s socially unacceptable and will get you arrested”). This feeling of fashion’s inherently transitory nature had me asking a lot of hard questions: What if all my clothes suck? What if I can never wear this Our Legacy camp collar shirt again because camp collars peaked back in 2021? Should I just run down the streets nude like the Kony 2012 guy? At least for a decade, before they become retro again. Eventually, all the grails in your closet will become passé.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |