I just received a letter from a friend. She's traveling abroad at the moment and though she's having a good time, she's still clearly not happy with the local style. She's a designer herself so she notices these things. She mentions "walking through 3 million women dressed as prostitutes" trying to find some local cuisine but all she could find were "about 5 macdonalds and a couple of kfc's". This mind you is in a country fairly renowned for its design sense and cultural traditions.
I completely feel her pain. Over the past few years I've come to the decision that there are certain parts of New York that are to be avoided at all costs - particularly on the weekends. The sidewalks are over-packed with men dressed as if they're about to paint the house or fix the lawnmower and women in clothes that are much too tight, much too short, and much too cheap. They teeter along on stilettos which they clearly can't operate correctly. Indeed as I watch them stumble along, I wonder if they're really accustomed to walking on two legs in the first place.
The meatpacking district in particularly prone to infestations by these people and I find it ironic that, back in my taxi driving days, this was a neighborhood where at night there was nothing but Florent, a few "special interest" clubs, and a flock of tranny hookers. Based on the current dress sense of the women in this neighborhood today, I could easily imagine that the original hooker population somehow proliferated to extraordinary proportions except for the fact that back then they actually had more style and could walk on their heels. Today when I walk through the meatpacking district I have the unpleasant sensation of suddenly finding myself in a third rate sophomoric comedy where a bunch of horny high school boys were able to magically animate a bunch of mannequins from "forever 21". I'd wonder how much these women charge by the hour but i can't imagine it could be very much. They look too manic or too bored to be the least bit attractive and all are exactly the same and perfectly interchangeable. Still they manage to get dates - at least among the "frat" boys. I find this intensely disheartening. I know that for decades, fashion has taken its inspiration largely from the streets but this is ridiculous. "Streets" are one thing, "streetwalking" is another.
I remember a time in New York when the city had a good deal more style. I remember a time when each neighborhood had its own unique look. Sometimes this was good, sometimes bad but the point is there was VARIETY. Now the frat/hooker look is pretty much everywhere and clearly the epidemic is spreading through the rest of the boroughs.
Last evening in fact, as I was walking the dog, I ran across a young person working the tranny hooker look outside beacon's closet. She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with her tube top pulled out staring down at her tits like she'd never seen them before, the entire time yelling, "WHA..? WHA...? WHA...?" into her cell phone.
This might have been interesting as some kind of performance art but sadly this chick wasn't kidding.
So today, that memory "fresh" in my mind, when I read my friend's letter, I couldn't help but think about women I've met in my time who had tremendous personal allure. Isabel Toledo for example.
The first time I met her, I was working as a shop assistant at Barney's. This was back in the day when that store was still on 17th street and the pressman family still ran riot there. One evening when the store was habitually empty, Senora Toledo arrived with her husband. She was wearing a full red skirt, a crisp white blouse cinched by a wide black belt and a black lace mantilla over her hair. Of course the effect was that of a traditional Spanish lady, yet there was something terrifically modern about her look as well. She is after all a brilliant designer and she looked fabulous. And I do not use the "f" word lightly.
She was also carrying a beautiful black lace fan which was always before her face. In fact I never saw her face in its entirety - merely her beautiful eyes sparkling over the fluttering rim of the fan. Although I asked her numerous questions as I helped her to find what she wanted, she never spoke to me directly and I actually never heard her voice. She simply leaned toward Reuben, shifted the fan slightly and whispered her reply to him which he then passed on to me.
Now of course I recognize that such behavior is highly mannered and could easily be easily be extremely irritating not to mention insulting. Yet I remember her as being one of the most captivating women I have ever met. Her eyes, her manner, her look - all were perfect and I'd have gladly done anything she asked. She played that fan as Yo Yo Ma plays his cello - as a unique and authentic expression of who she was. That's style.
Perhaps the woman I've been lucky enough to encounter who had the most style was Diana Vreeland. This was also back in my taxi driving days. One evening, I knew there was quite a grand party taking place at the Guggenheim Museum. I'd been driving people there all evening. A lot of them were wearing very interesting clothes and I wondered what it was like inside at the party as I dropped them off. But several hours later, I'd forgotten about it until I was flagged down by a man in a tuxedo in front of the Guggenheim. He helped his wife into the car and then leaned forward and asked, "Would you mind waiting a moment? We're waiting for my mother. But please start the meter." I didn't mind at all especially after hearing that last bit. You'd be surprised at how many people expect cabbies to sit idly waiting for ages without having any inclination at all to pay for that time...
Anyway, we waited for a while until finally the wife said gently, "Perhaps you might go find her? You know how your mother is when she's talking..." The man smiled but then said, "It's OK. Here she comes now." I turned my head to look and was instantly struck still.
There floating across the pavement surrounded by a flock of men in tuxedos was a woman who was unmistakably Diana Vreeland. She was wearing a sleek yellow satin sheathe that my guess would be Dior circa 1955. It had a matching satin stole and matching yellow satin shoes. White stones sparkled around her neck and at her ears. She looked absolutely amazing.
Now Mrs Vreeland was no beauty certainly by that age. But then she never was - that was the point. But on this evening well into her 80's, she was dressed to kill and clearly fascinating a large group of men of all ages. They followed her like puppies and hung on her every word. I watched her as she slowly moved to the car. She turned her head this way and that to chat with the men around her. She leaned back against one of the men, tossed her head and laughed. The men couldn't look away and neither could I. I have never seen a woman move so elegantly (at least off the ballet stage) and more to the point, never have i seen a woman more alive. She was so clearly having the time of her life and her joie de vivre lit all those around her. Mrs Vreeland was perfectly magical and a good part of that magic was her style. It was unique, it was flawless and it was as bright as the sun.
I think a lot of people today miss the point of Mrs Vreeland. Nothing but a clothes horse obsessed with fashion. I don't think this is true. From what I've read of her and by her, I's say fashion was her business but her passion was style. She understood absolutely that fashion is merely a tool and that clothes are dead unless they're worn. It is never the clothes that are important but the life you lead in them.
Diana Vreeland stepped beyond fashion knowing that it is best used to express individual style. She approached style as a philosophy - almost a religion until like Zen it permeated and informed every aspect of her life and became an authentic expression of who she was. She's the one who inspired me to write many years ago, before i formed my first company, my own personal "style manifesto":
Beauty is an art
Art is a discipline
Discipline is a way of life
I think Mrs Vreeland would have liked those sentiments and perhaps would have approved. I think back on copies of Vogue that I've looked at that were issued under her reign there. God knows they were radically different in their approach than that sad publication as it exists now. Of course there was a good deal of fashion editorial but there was always a hell of a lot more. Mrs Vreeland explored the whole world. She sought out so many other cultural ideas of what was "beautiful" and she shared them monthly with her readers. As an editor, Mrs Vreelend never imposed - she expanded and more to the point she encouraged. She encouraged women to be aware, to be adventurous, to experiment and to make the most of their lives. This is hardly "frivolous" as many claim today. Living your life is never frivolous.
So what's changed? Why the crowds of basically identical hookers and the dreary boys they hang with? I think back to a conversation I had a few years ago with Dianne Brill - the queen of New York nightlife back in the day. I asked her what had changed - why were things so dreary now and so few clubs existed that were worth going to? Her first response was "rent!" Dianne is a very practical woman. But I said there must be more to it than that. There were still parts of the city where - like in the 80's - space was still relatively cheap. But still nothing happens...
She reflected for a moment and than said to me, "Individuality was celebrated then." And I knew she was right. That's what changed. I'm not certain where or why (although I have some ideas) so many people have lost their capacity to celebrate their own individuality. No longer can they live their own special life and Go All the Way. I think that's sad. Especially when I am stuck in neighborhoods infested with hoards of soulless tranny hookers who have clearly set the women's movement back by at least 50 years. I look at them stumbling along in their stilettos and I'm reminded of a quote from my favorite Compton Mackenzie novel. To paraphrase, it runs like this:
Women have always dressed to reflect what men want them to be and if men want them to be hookers then I am sorry for what men have become.
I'm not here to criticize. As far as I'm concerned, people should make their own choices and must be allowed to go to hell their own way. But I have always been here to encourage. So while I would certainly love to see a great deal less of the tranny hooker look both here and abroad, I know there's no point in railing against in.
Instead, I'd like to encourage women (and in fact people in general) to step out of the herd and be once again adventurous, to try new things, to take a chance and Go All the Way. I'd like to encourage them to open their eyes and have a good look around and appreciate all the gorgeous variety that's out there. I'd like to encourage people to grow up, have some dignity, learn to age with grace and appreciate the wisdom that comes with experience.
But most of all, I want to encourage them, as I have always done, to express and to celebrate their own special INDIVIDUALITY.
I know this will take some time - as many things worth doing will. But hopefully at some point in the not to distant future, this change in attitude will happen and I'll be happy again to venture out in public...