Scoring With A Makeover, but Facing a Net Loss

Tennis season is upon us, and in the next paragraph we will begin musing about Serena Williams, her classy style transformation and whether something goes missing with all that newfound good taste. But before addressing those subjects, it's necessary to pause and pay homage to Rafael Nadal, his recent victory in the French Open . . . and his guns of steel, highlighted by his sleeveless, green Nike shirt.

Williams did not fare as well as Nadal in the French Open and neither did her older sister Venus. Perhaps their mojo will return in time for Wimbledon later this month. But despite Serena Williams's third-round flameout, one couldn't help fixating on how her appearance has changed.

She has gotten rid of the long, Goldilocks mane of flagrantly fake hair that did her complexion no favors, and replaced it with a dark, more natural-colored and youthful bob. When she was photographed on the court at Roland Garros, she wasn't playing in a pair of chandelier diamond earrings more appropriate for a cocktail party. She was wearing heart-shaped buttons -- albeit glittering ones. There were no slick black hot pants or trompe l'oeil go-go boots. She still showed style panache on the court, but mostly in traditional tennis whites.

Williams, 26, has not lost any of her sex appeal, as evidenced by her swimsuit pinup pose on the cover of the July issue of Ebony. She is wearing a lilac one-piece bathing suit and standing at an angle that shows off her tush in all its glory. If anyone needs clarification of what a 5-10, hourglass, brick house, buns-of-steel figure looks like, see Ms. Williams.

The tennis star still aims to be glamorous, but she has added subtlety to the mix. She is not pure, undiluted va-va-voom. A little dilution has been beneficial.

But one worries -- after such an early French Open loss -- if she needs a little garish chic to put herself into a winning frame of mind. Samson had his long hair. Perhaps Williams requires black spandex.

While there was a lot to criticize about Williams's former look, including that it made her look cheap, one can't help but mourn the loss of its indulgent impudence. Coco Chanel once said that "elegance is refusal," which sounds like a diplomatic way of saying you have to give up champagne to fit into the cocktail dress. Which makes the party sound like it won't be worth the effort.

Now that Williams has turned away from Barbie hair and skintight rompers, the ranks of those who have transformed trash couture into a signature have thinned. (By trash couture, we don't mean someone prone to occasional fashion fumbles, the Glamour Don'ts or the philosophy that comfort should be the only guide to getting dressed. That's laziness, not intent.) There is a place in our hearts for the true fashion debacles epitomized by hall-of-famers such as Cher, Lil' Kim and the soon-to-be-inducted Tila Tequila, who regularly treats her breasts like party favors.

None of these women has a style that one should emulate, but there is something intriguingly shameless about their attitude. They have not heeded the wisdom of a fancy stylist who might lecture them on class and dignity. They are seemingly unembarrassed by the taunting captions accompanying their photographs in tabloids. They can cheapen even the most expensive designer frocks with their own special magic.

They're like the loud, unruly guests at a sedate party that has all the right ingredients but still isn't any fun. They're wonderful, unabashed ridiculousness. You love them, although you don't really want to have anything to do with them.

Simon Doonan, the creative director of Barneys New York, celebrates and encourages these types of characters in his book "Eccentric Glamour."

"Even if you walk down the street wearing a gold leotard with your lesbian aunt Sylvia's mauve nylon fanny pack cinching your midriff, nobody is judging you. Some people may not even notice you. Most people will be enjoying you." Of course, Doonan lives in New York. But still, he makes a good point.

As the fashion industry has become increasingly more democratic, with good taste and smart design available everywhere from Kohl's to Neiman Marcus, it has also gotten less exciting. A Seventh Avenue-approved, somewhat boring sensibility permeates all levels of the market. People actually have to work pretty hard before their appearance elicits: "Whoa! That's messed up!" Even if the result isn't admirable, they should be thanked for giving folks a chuckle.

Fashion needs its loose cannons to serve as reminders that style is meant to be a reflection of personality and mood. So relax. Perhaps that personality is dysfunctional or desperate for attention, but either is more interesting than a wallflower in wrinkled khakis and white polo shirt or a plain black dress with white stockings and sensible pumps.

These fashion kooks are exhibitionists; they're rebels; they are true believers in their own fabulousness. And maybe they simply have a wonderful sense of humor about themselves and life. They're willing to be misfits -- and even better if they can profit from it.

This is not a call for Williams to go back to gnarled hemlines and hair the color of straw. It is simply the hope that in cleaning up her fashion act, she's still having fun, still has her sense of humor and, most important, still has her game.