By Robin Givhan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, February 7, 2006; C01
NEW YORK -- Apparently a significant number of parents have stopped insisting that their sons eat their vegetables, drink their milk and take their Flintstones vitamins. This group of underfed boys is growing up to become models and threatening the self-esteem of men who always cleaned their plates.
Kick sand in their faces if you want. They will keep on coming. And their hair will be perfectly tousled.
Back in the days before metrosexuals, "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and entire books dedicated to grooming products, the models marching down menswear runways tended to look a bit sheepish and embarrassed to be there. They gave the impression that they had been coerced into participating through some form of blackmail involving tequila shots and police officers with no sense of humor. The men were rakish and slim, but they did not have the look of hunger associated with their female counterparts.
Now the fellas mostly look happy to be on the catwalk, pleased with the opportunity to preen and strut. But too many of them have the underdeveloped physiques of 12-year-olds. Some possess a preternatural boyish demeanor and look to be up past their bedtime.
This was especially striking Friday when menswear designer John Varvatos presented his fall collection. Varvatos has built his reputation on an aesthetic that celebrates grown-up men. His clothes have always suggested a version of masculinity that is both familiar and reassuring, neither exaggerated nor understated. The palette, as in the past, is dominated by pine, mushroom, sage and lapis, with silhouettes that leave room for broad shoulders and strong legs, but also a bit of leeway for the paunchy gentleman who spends more time riding around in a golf cart than walking 18 holes.
That generosity is still evident for fall, particularly in knitwear and cozy sweater jackets. And like a lot of designers, Varvatos incorporates military touches -- cargo trousers and overcoats that might have been inspired by a trip to the Army-Navy surplus store. The flagship line had all of the expected markers of his brand of masculinity, but the Star USA collection seemed to confuse informality with adolescence.
Star USA, which began as a small offering of vintage-inspired denim, is now a casual/weekend-wear division of the company. Denim continues to be its focus, but now there are down vests, rumpled shirts and loose-fitting trousers, all in faded colors and gently worn fabrics.
In his program notes, Varvatos describes Star USA as part "rebellious schoolboy, part rumpled headmaster." Watching his models, however, it was hard to find much evidence of adult supervision in a cast of children.
Polo Ralph Lauren, Thom BrowneMenswear designers long ago backed away from boxy business suits and the old turtleneck-and-sports-jacket notion of casual attire. They have been trying to give men more choices in their closets, working to bring fun and joy to wardrobes dominated by banker grays and sad-sack chinos. The challenge has been in finding a way to allow maturity and playfulness to coexist.
Thom Browne and relative newcomer Tomer Gendler have come close to getting that balance right. Browne has infused Wall Street grays with pleasure simply by altering traditional proportions and adding quiet details. And Gendler makes a man's rock-and-roll fantasies look dignified. They are both examples of a new energy in the New York menswear industry. After a dearth of innovation, there are finally signs of life. New labels have arrived that fizz and pop with creativity.
And an old brand, Polo Ralph Lauren, returned its menswear to the runway after more than 30 years. Yesterday afternoon, Lauren proved that his musings, fantasies and daydreams about the glamorous lives of men are no less lively. Lauren showed men of all colors on his runway, from one with a golden Grizzly Adams beard to one with rich brown dreadlocks. They were dressed in everything from shrunken patchwork blazers and destroyed jeans to pinstriped suits with tight, high armholes and narrow trousers that brushed the tops of cowboy boots.
Lauren's vision of men has them roping steers, running hedge funds and walking the red carpet. Sometimes those frothy notions overwhelm the aesthetic and send it veering into costume design. Not this time. Lauren encourages men to dream of themselves as archetypes, to engage in fashion make-believe. A man may barely be able to balance his own checkbook and be deathly afraid of horses, but Lauren allows him dress and swagger as though his wildest dreams were real.
Instead of presenting his collection on a runway or as a tableau vivant, Browne transformed an empty gallery space on the far West Side into a small ice skating rink, surrounded by tiny pine trees and under a steady shower of artificial snow. In casting his show, he didn't need to worry just about the models' sizes but also about whether they could skate. The models zipped around the small rink playing tag and keep-away. They were perhaps the most elegantly attired ice skaters one had ever seen.
Browne is foremost a tailor, but one with a sense of humor and lightheartedness. He marries the elegance of a gray flannel car coat with the practicality of a down parka, and the result is a crisply tailored quilted flannel parka. His cozy sweaters are tagged with vintage patches from ski resorts. His trousers, cut close to the leg, also have subtle quilting down the front of the calf, like built-in shin guards for a gentleman hockey player.
Browne put several of his models in short pants with garters holding up the socks. But that was more for a chuckle and to underscore the Old World quality of his work than to insist that grown-ups start wearing breeches to the boardroom.
TomerGendler showed his intriguing collection -- called Tomer -- on Friday. It is hard to boil down to a simple phrase or to locate its inspiration in one place, although Gendler points to the general vicinity of Andalusia and England.
Gendler uses menswear fabrics that have a luxurious drape and a subtle sheen. They have a patina of age thanks to their murky colors and traditional patterns, but he applies a contemporary sensibility that dispels any hint of mothballs.
The menswear vocabulary is a limited one. That can be taken as either an excuse for boring clothes or a challenge to make expressive but wearable ones. Gendler takes the strict rules as a dare. Not one to dabble in fashion extremism, he is an inventive centrist.
The designer doesn't take the easy way out and use a stiletto sharp silhouette or tight fit to announce that his clothes are young and hip. He is not trying to strangle men with cashmere and fine woolens.
Instead, his trousers drape; they are roomy and fluid. Sometimes he plays with proportions and cuts a jacket short so it just skims the hips. He tucks details such as contrasting stripes underneath collars or along a pants pocket. His clothes have a louche quality to them, making the fellow who wears them appear loose-limbed, flexible, a little bit sketchy. Perhaps a bit too sure of himself.
Gendler infuses his clothes with a rock-and-roll mystique -- several models loped down the runway holding Gibson guitars and wearing ski caps encrusted with swirling patterns of Swarovski crystals. This is rock-star cool. When men express admiration for mysterious drummers and guitar studs, they're not interested in spandex leggings, boas and platform shoes. They're talking about self-assurance and sex appeal. They're referring to a black suit that, through the subtlety of its cut, makes clear that the wearer is headed to a lounge and not the bank.
John Bartlett, Kenneth ColeJohn Bartlett traced his inspiration to an undeveloped stretch of Massachusetts coastline between Provincetown and Walden Pond. Out of that rugged tree line and rocky landscape, Bartlett extracted the essence of "butch." That is an idealized, sometimes caricatured, idea of manliness. In contrast to Varvatos, Bartlett used a mix of models in his Friday show. Several of them had noticeably burly physiques, others were dutifully sculpted. All exuded maturity, experience and an intimate knowledge of all the body's major and minor muscle groups.
The collection was filled with houndstooth and plaid, wool and flannel. The cuts were executed with an eye toward making a man look as outwardly strong as possible. Bartlett's models wore strange ski-style leather boots that made even the most graceful mannequin seem to lumber down the wood-chip walkway. His suits paid such a generous homage to the iconic outdoorsman that the models looked as though they planned to hike the Appalachian Trail on the way to the office.
Menswear designers are rightly striving for a way to give men the feeling of being unencumbered as they move through the day. Whether it is with aerodynamic suit silhouettes that are cut close to the body, the lighthearted appeal of being able to wear old-school Converse sneakers with a pair of dress pants or the more obvious references to the innocence of youth, maneuverability is essential.
Bartlett's collection lacks that ease. His models too often have the look of men who spend all their time hoisting heavy weights without bothering to make sure they're limber enough to touch their toes.
Kenneth Cole opened on Friday with his traditional video. This time, instead of focusing on a pet charity, social justice or world peace, he mocked his own industry. He teased fashion folks for their excessive use of the word "fabulous." (Your hair is fabulous! This coffee is fabulous! Those three-inch heels with a pair of micro-bloomers are fabulous!) He gently mocked his colleagues about their incessant air-kissing. He made fun of models, their over-stylized runway struts and the obsessive fans who mimic them. The video -- lighthearted, joyful, unselfconscious, distinctive -- had all the qualities one wished for in the clothes themselves.
Cole's menswear displays urban appropriateness. He makes fashion appear effortless. His young men in their skinny trousers, comfortable sweater jackets and roomy overcoats make getting dressed seem to involve little more than rolling out of bed. What one wanted was a greater sense of personality in the clothes. Cole's menswear looks modern and palatable but not special. It may be that the designer would argue that personality should come from the man, that his clothes should not strive to be witty or intellectual or erudite.
But a new generation of menswear designers, and one old stalwart, are creating clothes that have personality and panache. The clothes don't overshadow the man or costume him. They offer him just a little bit of help in living out his dreams.
