Some people think Washington is anti-fashion. So wrong. It's part of our power statement.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
The common reaction from folks outside the Beltway has always been surprise that this newspaper - headquartered in the land of Dockers, Lands' End satchels and sensible shoes - takes its fashion coverage seriously.
After all, New York is the heart of the country's fashion industry and Washington - by virtue of its proximity to Manhattan - has always suffered in sartorial comparisons. The nation's capital has also fared poorly when considered alongside Los Angeles, even though that's a fashion landscape best known for overpriced jeans and velour sweat suits.
Those juxtapositions have always seemed unfair. New York has an outsize population of fashion world denizens. If they aren't paying special attention to trends and high style, then who will? And film, the singular business of Los Angeles, is a visual medium. Obsessing about one's looks is in an actor's job description.
Yet Washington has its own unique relationship with the fashion industry, and for the past 15 years I've been honored to report on it. And now, as I prepare to leave The Post for a challenging adventure at Newsweek and The Daily Beast, I'm reminded of how much I have been shaped and energized by Washington style, which has always been about so much more than merely clothes.
In a city that overflows with intellectual curiosity, residents are fascinated by this billion-dollar industry that thrives by tapping into our deepest fantasies, insecurities and prejudices. Fashion seeps into our subconscious and influences the way in which we see ourselves and those around us. Even when we pretend not to care about the clothes in the glossy advertisements, we are still bothered by the models. They are too thin, too pale, too young, too something. Why don't they smile? Why are they so awkward? Why do we even care?
Washingtonians instinctively know that no matter the depths of their ambivalence about an industry that traffics in superficiality, surface appearances matter. How we look serves as introduction and parting shot. It can underscore an important point or distract from it.
Washington's currency is power, and fashion helps to bring order to the power structure. Clothes provide the first hint of how we relate to one another and how seriously we should be taken. (Remember that, dear interns in your flip-flops and miniskirts.) Gentlemen may pull on a bespoke suit or rebel against that brand of traditionalism with rumpled jeans and T-shirts. Power is now a woman in a sleek sheath, not one in a frumpy suit and a pair of commuter sneakers.
I arrived at The Post with a simple philosophy: Fashion doesn't happen in a vacuum. We use fashion to navigate the world on a daily basis, to communicate, to define ourselves. Runway trends serve as guideposts and offer clues to changes in our culture. Models - both male and female - tell us how we define beauty. They tell us something about the kinds of people we exalt and value.
The Post encouraged a wide view of what counted as a fashion story. And it nurtured my belief that fashion was at its most fascinating as seen through the day-to-day wardrobe of public figures and average Joes.
In my first conversation with then-Executive Editor Leonard Downie, we talked about the many fashion tribes of this town: the K Street lobbyists and their fancy suits, the Capitol Hill politicos who obsess about the spread of their shirt collars, the university crowd that indulges in fads and so on. The big dog cared about fashion!
From my first days in the Style section - where my stories competed for space with those about politics, film, television, music, books - I quickly learned that this paper saw fashion as part of the exquisite cultural stew. Fashion wasn't separate, aberrant or exceptional. It was simply part of who we are.
Beginning with the late, great fashion editor Nina Hyde, The Post always understood that clothes matter. Hyde covered fashion as both business and creative endeavor. She recognized its influence on our lives, and she was entertained by its absurd indulgences.