This weekend always makes me think of my former colleague Bill Cunningham, who died in 2016. Bill, who called everyone "child," no matter how old they were, was a founding father of street-style photography, though he considered it simply visual reporting — recording the way real people used dress to express themselves in their daily lives. Now that street style has become another arm of brand marketing, with influencers outfitted by companies rather than according to their own taste, his archive is an anthropological treasure trove. Above all, he prized originality. As he once said: "I don't pay attention to celebrities. I don't photograph them. They don't dress so interestingly. They have stylists. I prefer real women who have their own taste." His favorite place to record the world was the corner of Fifth Avenue and 57th Street in Manhattan — after his death it was temporarily renamed Bill Cunningham Corner — because that was where he spied society figures, power players and tourists. And one of his favorite events was the annual New York Easter Parade, which he called "a carnival celebration of spring," thanks to its unforgettable displays of headgear. (He did start his professional life as a milliner.) Over the years he recorded towering floral pots, pink flamingos, hot air balloons and even a bird cage, testament to the very human penchant for plumage in all its occasionally absurd glory — and a reminder that we should do more of it. This year, Simbarashe Cha will be our man at the parade, continuing the tradition. Check in here on Monday to see what he discovered. I guarantee you, it will make you smile.
Just after this newsletter was sent last week, the news came that Pierpaolo Piccioli was leaving Valentino. As a result, much of the following days were taken up with fevered speculation about the set of open fashion jobs at big fashion houses — Valentino, Givenchy, Dries Van Noten — as well as the number of very talented out-of-work designers, especially Mr. Piccioli, Alessandro Michele (who left Gucci in late 2022), Sarah Burton (who left Alexander McQueen in October), and Riccardo Tisci (who left Burberry just before Mr. Michele left Gucci). Then, on Thursday, news broke that Mr. Michele was getting the Valentino gig, which set off another round of guessing about the rest. Fun! While I would love to see any of these designers resurface at another brand, and can play the game of fantasy fashion with as much excitement as the next girl, I think we sometimes forget that there is another possibility: They don't land anywhere at all. Talent is only one part of getting a big job. The others are timing, history and employment trends, and those aren't necessarily in their favor. At the moment, the vogue seems to be discovering younger No. 2's who can be promoted to the chief design spot (see the new creative directors at Bottega Veneta, Gucci, McQueen and Moschino) and who are probably 1) cheaper and 2) more malleable than stars with expensive track records.
Honestly, I wish that someone would back Mr. Piccioli and company in their own house (or that they would back themselves). That's how Tom Ford and Phoebe Philo returned to fashion, and it's probably the best answer for designers who became famous at other houses. But that's also risky for everyone at a time when our appetite for risk is not exactly booming. So the chances are probably low. The big question now is whether Mr. Michele's maximalist Gucci was his vision for that particular house — or his vision for fashion. He needs another big idea to make Valentino work. We'll see if he has one during fashion week in September. For more on the designers, consider what losing Mr. Piccioli, as well as Dries Van Noten and Sarah Burton, means for fashion. Then delve into the issue of whether fashion has canceled canceling, look back at when Sean Combs created the template for hip-hop mogul brand empires and what happened next, and check out the bursting of the luxury e-tail bubble. And have a good, safe Friday and weekend.
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Your Style Questions, AnsweredEvery 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.
As we look toward the summer, I've started to think about new shoes, like a nice pair of sandals or some of the cute block heels I've seen on the subway. My office is business casual. But I can't get past the idea of displaying my toes in the office — it just feels wrong. How much toe cleavage is too much? Can you get the dogs out around the water cooler? — Sarah, New YorkIn the spring, a person's fancy turns to thoughts of … open-toe shoes! Sandals, Birkenstocks, mules — any footwear that allows your feet, trapped for months under layers of socks and boots, to breath a little. To feel the breeze on your bare heels and toes is to know that warmer times have arrived. Yet feet also trail a host of associations, stereotypes and prejudices. Indeed, when it comes to the scale of fraught body parts, feet rank pretty high. They have been revered and hated throughout history — a symbol of both our rootedness and our desire to escape it, of humility, hard work and eroticism. Pablo Neruda wrote odes to feet. Dr. Seuss wrote a whole book about them (sample snippet: "In the house and on the street how many, many feet you meet!"). In certain eras they were the rare visible bit of skin, which has imbued them with all sorts of powers, sexual and otherwise. Hence the term "toe cleavage." There's a reason the royal family still hews to the rule of no open-toe shoes on major public occasions. There's even an official name for a condition in which someone has an extreme aversion to feet: podophobia. As a result, the matter of just how much to bare is, as with other body parts, not without its intricacies. Especially in the workplace. An ad hoc survey of colleagues produced results clustering on two extremes: those who were utterly sanguine about the idea of visible toes and heels at work and those who were horrified at the mere suggestion. Still, there are no official rules about shoes in the workplace. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration has no official policy about wearing sandals in an office environment, a fact that has spawned its own advocacy group, Barefoot is Legal. That means that, given the opaque diktats of most dress codes, the vague label of "appropriate" applies, leaving it up to the individual to interpret the term. Context matters. Presumably in warmer climes, more casual workplaces and some parts of Silicon Valley, sandals are standard footwear. In the more traditional bastions of law, finance and government, not to mention urban environments where simply stepping onto the street can seem like stepping into a dust bin, sandals may cause a kerfuffle. So does the kind of shoe you choose. A tasteful sling-back (the kind favored by the Vogue editor Anna Wintour) conveys a different message than an athletic slide, which sends a different signal than a low-cut stiletto. The accessory frames the exposure. Everyone did agree, however, that if you are going to let out your feet at work, you must take responsibility for their emergence and make them fit for public consumption. Which at the very least means pedicures — and paying attention not just to nails, but also to the oft overlooked heels. Whatever kind of shoes you decide to wear to work, do keep them on. Baring toes and heels may be a right, but baring your sole is probably a step too far.
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Friday, March 29, 2024
Open Thread: Easter parade, Bill Cunningham, Pierpaolo Piccioli, Valentino, Alessandro Michele, Sarah Burton
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