"The Cerulian Sweater"

In The Devil Wears Prada when editor Miranda Priestly asks which belt will go with a dress better, Andy chuckles as a styling assistant holds up two turquoise leather belts whose only difference is their buckles and says “It’s a tough call, they’re so different.” In her own defense, Andy pleads “No, no. Nothing’s…You know, it’s just that both those belts look exactly the same to me. Ya know, I’m still learning about this stuff and uh-”. In a monologue that gave Meryl Streep an(other) Oscar nod,  Andy is then lectured about how when magazine editors choose an item, designers pick up on that and those items become trendy, making its way into department stores and small boutiques, even being watered down for versions to be sold at big box stores like Wal-Mart, K-Mart, and Meijer, the apparel hunting grounds for those with a lack of funds or preference.

The same can be said about the economy and employment. The workspaces utilized in the garment center create products, which in turn create jobs all over the country-to not only manufacture apparel and accessories, but to market them, ship them, repair them, and sell them to the final consumer. Forcing businesses out of the district by consolidating the space will force companies to pay import taxes and tariffs, which will lead to either a raise in cost or a reduction in workforce-two things Americans don’t like. So the most important key in saving the garment center is informing the American people about the impact it has on their daily lives by taking the rallying and marches outside of New York and out into the country. Bringing the plight of the industry to the forefront of America’s minds, not just Mayor Bloomberg’s front door, is what it’ll take to see some positive action taken.

Toward the middle of The Devil Wears Prada, Andy came to understand the fashion industry, and why her role at Runway did in its way serve a purpose. She began to dress stylishly, even brushing her hair before she left her apartment. And although at the end of the movie, she decided that fashion wasn’t for her, that she’d pursue her writing career somewhere else, she did not lose any respect for the people she met at Runway, but gained respect for them and their profession. That is all that the Save the Garment Center campaign is about- maintaining the spaces reserved for garment companies out of respect for the contributions that they have made and will continue to make to the work force, the economy, and more importantly, the heritage of this country.

Besides, if we won’t take pride in our work, who will?

In 2008, the federal government bailed out the financial and automotive industries with $700 billion, the fourth time that year the government stepped in to keep Wall Street from crashing (www.Investopedia.com). Whenever Detroit or Wall Street come calling the government answers, yet city and federal officials are slow moving to keep the garment industry from shrinking, eventually disappearing altogether.

This lack of government support can be traced back to the superficial stereotype associated with the industry, yet at the same time, these are the people that are paid to be informed, to know of the industry’s impact and act in the best interest of the people, not those of large magazine corporations and real estate companies. And while our government isn’t weighing the true consequences of consolidating the district, other nations are doing all that they can to build their garment industries. According to the UK’s Telegraph online newspaper, France, which has a minister whose sole purpose is to regulate and promote the French garment industry, is looking to grow its industry in more than one way.It states:

The fashion industry, which the government sees as part of France’s cultural heritage, has been hit hard by the global spending slump with high-profile victims including Christian Lacroix and Cacharel.  Mr. [Christian] Estrosi said he wanted to get one or two banks to develop services specializing in lending money to fashion companies and other creative businesses with the state acting as a guarantor for certain loans.

“I want Paris to remain the world’s capital of fashion,” Mr. Estrosi said. “Today, we need people to share the risks.” Mr Estrosi said the French government was also considering handing out exemptions to the 35-hour week to staff who had to put in long hours before fashion shows [and]… also thinking of creating a school of design and creativity that would rival London’s St Martin’s School and Anvers in Belgium.

While they are not afraid to admit they’ve suffered a few major blows due to the economic crisis of the last few years, the French are not giving up, but giving everything the industry needs to thrive. Unwilling to sacrifice the world renown French craftsmanship for that of a cheap sweatshop worker all for a dollar’s (or euro’s) sake, Mr. Estrosi and his colleagues are on the right path for prosperity. Instead of providing a one-time bail out, Mr. Estrosi is organizing a group of banks that will specialize in fashion industry finances year round. Seeing as most fashion designers don’t use the mathematical side of their brains a lot, having counsel from a professional banker will aid in the prevention of an industry crash. That’s the kind of proactivity the Garment Center in New York needs-serious, understanding, and government dedication. But that type of support only comes from the cries of millions, not a few.

Coming soon: A Plea to Save the Garment Center: Conclusion-Power of the People

Until then,

Be More. Be Glam.

What they (and Andy) fail to realize is that most of those employed in the garment industry are normal, everyday people-seamstresses, patternmakers, and craftsmen that specialize in unique applications for garments- these people are hard laborers akin to those in the Rust Belt. They don’t work nine to five but from start to finish, and take just as much pride in their work, maybe even more, than their more socially accepted counterparts, such as auto-workers. This stereotype of a constant party and superficiality of the industry has led government officials and building owners in the Garment Center of New York City to believe that it’s a good idea to consolidate the district to just a couple buildings and turn the others into condominiums and offices, and what’s worse is they believe that the American people would be okay with that. But in this case, what they don’t know can hurt them.

The garment manufacturing industry is a major part of the American economy, employing more than 400,000 people, 44% of whom are not in New York City, but in the states of California, Georgia, and North Carolina -surely these people aren’t yachting in Sag Harbor, knocking back bottles of champagne, and toasting to the good life.(Bureau of Labor Statistics) These are the people creating the fabrics, threads, buttons, and zippers that go into our clothing, and they work their fingers to the bone (using the fine skills they’ve honed over years of adapting to fashion trends) doing their part in keeping American manufacturing alive by producing the millions of garments, shoes, and handbags created in this country every year.

If the jobs themselves aren’t enough to consider saving the Garment Center, then maybe the money is: the garment industry supplies $10 billion of wages to those in New York City alone. (39thandBroadway.com) Consolidating the district will limit the number of businesses that are able to do work there, and force designers to take their work elsewhere-out of the state or overseas, making the garment industry yet another to outsource work, taking more than wages out of the city, but also removing reasonably priced work space for emerging and independent designers, as illustrated on 39thandBroadway.com

Unlike other areas of Manhattan where office space goes for an astounding $65 per square foot plus, the Garment Center, thanks to government and zoning protection, is able to keep rates below market for fashion manufacturing businesses.  This is a huge benefit for many local NYC designers.  For example, women’s brand THL Inc./ Zelda Brand just got a great deal down the block on 39^th street for a 6000 square foot space and the rent is only $35 per square foot. (39thandBroadway.com)

That’s $210,000 in one month for a single tenant. Now, I don’t know what kind of condos they’re proposing, but the garment district is not a glamorous place, and I highly doubt they’ll be able to get that much for any living space that moves into the area.

To be continued in “A Plea to Save the Garment Center: Part 2 -Can the Stars and Stripes Save the Seamstresses on Seventh?”

Because yes, fashion can have a conscience.

Fight for your right-to learn, to grow, to be Glam.

Design by Raven Jones

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Nicole?

Ritchie????

Forget the fact that I’m against celebrities all of a sudden becoming “style gurus” and “designers”.  (Let’s face it, we all know they are slaves to Rachel Zoe and her less boho counterparts). But when the powers that be (Accessories News’ Accessories Council Excellence Award), that can shed light onto truly talented individuals and companies that are making a difference or at least making waves in the accessories industry, they take it upon themselves to name one of these celebrities an influencer, as in, “Wow, Nicole! Great job! You’ve outdone everyone this year! Amazing!”

Are you kidding me?

So she gave an artsy twist to the bug-eyed sunglasses she helped make famous? Hasn’t everyone? Oh, and she added a handbag line. I can name 10 real fashion designers that design not only their own work, but another labels, AND is able to keep both separate yet completely successful.

This article isn’t to rag on Nicole Ritchie, but more on the ACE for choosing someone that we consumers don’t even think of as influential (at least not as much as she used to be). What year are they stuck in? My guess would be 2007.

Or maybe I’ve been locked in a dark closet, closed off from the world since 2007.

Yeah, that must be it.

Valentino starred in “Last Emporer”, which documented his last year before retirement. In this film we follow him around the world living as only he can, indulging in extravagances we only dream about. Upon meeting Vogue Editor at Large Andre Leon Talley for a collection preview, Valentino presents Andre with not 1 but 2 Couture muumuus.

In “The September Issue” we follow Anna Wintour and Andre Leon Talley (along with styling extraordinaire Grace Coddington) as they prepare for Vogue’s largest ever issue. And just what do we see Mr. Talley in as he head’s up a flight of stairs? In his Valentino couture, which he’d received just months earlier.

How do we tie these two to “Devil”? Not only is the movie based on a book based on Lauren Weisberger’s time under Wintour (allegedly), but who do we see at the couture shows, getting chummy with Miranda Priestly backstage at his show? No other than Valentino Garavani himself.

Talk about fashion coming full circle!

“Volunteer girl, go get me a mocha out the cooler,” he demands, and normally I would tear him a new one about how I’m not his maid, but I could use a mocha, so I grab two from the cooler. He then pries both of them from my hands. “You are so thoughtful!” he says as he turns around and gestures to the model he’s doing and hoists the bottles in the air, as if to proclaim “WE GOT STARBUCKS!!!”

I turn around to grab another when I see a mob of photographers heading toward the main division of the back of house, and I quickly follow before Gay-ngis Khan turns me into his slave for the night. Inside the middle section, Betsey has arrived and is sitting on the floor next to three huge Tupper Ware tubs full of giant cupcakes with her granddaughter on her lap. Reporters from Women’s Wear Daily, Vogue.com, Elle, and Fashion Week Daily are all pouring questions at her: asking about her inspirations, her concepts, and her plans after the show, to which she replies, “The after party, of course!”

It’ll be nice to be able to just sit back and let everyone do the work, to let them stress about missing programs, or having stylists caught on the train when there’s plenty of work to do, to be able to put on a great show, and then leave it for a group of volunteers to tear down while I dance and drink champagne in celebration of another successful market event. It’ll nice to be able to go home that night and sit on my couch, looking out at the New York skyline, knowing that I’ve made it, and every minute leading up to this one was worth it. It’ll be nice.

But ’til then, I’ll take orders from crazy artists, and listen to annoying stylists, and I’ll stay until one in the morning tearing down the show while the designers are out having the time of their lives; because one day I’ll come in through the front door- high heels on, assistant at my side- and it’ll be my name, my designs, my legacy- on the runway.

Until then,

Be More. Be Glam.

**Continued from Part I**

The street is lined with trailers of various sizes, each with its own purpose. Some are used as offices, some are used for storing extra chairs for the larger shows, some are chock full of sponsor items to give away in the lobby (champagne, perfumes, Swedish age defying serums that go for two hundred bucks a pop). All are tended by male workers that are loading, unloading, or just sitting and taking a load off.

“Damn, Mommy, how you get like dat?” one of them call as I walk by, but I learned long ago not to let it get to me, they don’t mean any harm.

I come to a long ramp with a sign attached to it that reads “Theatre back stage” with an arrow pointing up. I walk up the ramp, and a guard waves me through to the double doors. Inside there’s a long clean hall, almost clinical in its design. Halfway down there’s two sets of double doors. Opening them up, there’s suddenly life in the temporary building. The walls go from white to black, there’s models getting dressed, getting their hair and make-up done, or sneaking bites of cheese from the craft tables. PR associates are running to and fro, freaking out over nothing as they usually do.

“I can’t believe you forgot that. What were you thinking?” a tall redhead in a lace tank and a flowy maxi-skirt says.

“I don’t know. Oh my God, Kelly’s gonna have my ass!” a young blonde in a form fitting mini-dress spazzes. Both are in black, the unofficial color of fashion PR reps the world over, and it seems that both are on the verge of losing their jobs, as in the dog eat dog world of fashion, the redhead definitely wouldn’t care if it didn’t affect her too.

“Hurry up, get the other interns, and find it before Kelly finds out. NOW!” she demands as the blonde runs off.

The backstage, which is referred to as the “back of the house”, is divided into three sections by fifteen foot tall curtains. The middle section is the largest section, where models dress, PR reps make last minute seating decisions, and tech guys prepare the back drop for the stage. The two outer sides are reserved for hair and make-up, and have models running from one side to the other, and sometimes back for a touch up. I see tiny cupcakes on a table off to my right, so I figure that’s my next destination.

As I load a cocktail plate with the bite sized desserts, the hair stylist nearest me asks for the time. “Five thirteen.”

“Shit, I gotta turn twenty-six girls into Marie-Antoinette in two hours, and two of my stylists are stuck on the one train because somebody decided to have a heart attack. What the hell is wrong with people?” She says, pushing a swoop of purple hair behind her ear. “I sure hope Betsey took her happy pills today,” she adds, referring to designer Betsey Johnson, a sixty plus fashion legend who does cartwheels at the end of her shows. I don’t know if she’s ever missed a happy pill.

The room is lined with six foot banquet tables covered in white paper, each with a long mirror and two industrial lamps clipped on them to create a work space for the stylists. Half of the show’s models sit patiently waiting to get their hair colored and teased, some in their underwear, some in their own clothes, some already half dressed for the show. With only two other stylists, there was no way there’d be twenty-six Marie Antoinettes traipsing along the runway in two hours.

…To be continued. Until then,

Be More. Be Glam

Walking past an already buzzing Lincoln Center, I can feel the excitement of the week to follow in the air. Photographers wander through the plaza, looking for the money shot-a supermodel, a major designer, a top editor-or the jackpot, all three making their way into the tents, where I won’t be. No, there’ll be no schmoozing and gaiety in high heels for me. Today it’s flats and hard work.

I go on, crossing 62^nd street at Broadway, which has been blocked off with metal barricades and guarded by New York’s finest. Just on the other side of the street, parked along Broadway is the V-Trailer, the volunteer check-in unit. Before I even reach the steps I can already hear Patricia chatting it up.

“I knooow, I heard Meryl Streep was there. So random, right?!” she says. When I walk into the trailer and go into her office, I immediately see her curly bottle-blonde hair shining against her caramel colored skin, and she greets me the way she always does. “O-M-G you’re here!!! Look at yooou! How is everything?” I tell how I like my new school, but I miss New York too much for words, and we get down to business. “Abbey took everyone to the Theatre a few minutes ago, so you didn’t miss anything.” She hands me a credential, a badge that reads:

Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week S/S 2012

Damrosch Park Lincoln Center

VOLUNTEER

I slip it over my head, and go back to 62^nd street, but this time I say hello to the officer and go through the barricade. I’m official now.

…To be continued. Until then,

Be More. Be Glam.