Fashion Politics by Rebecca Yoo

Did anyone forget that one time Supreme released a brick as part of their collection? Because I haven’t forgotten about it since 2016. How does a block of deco sell for $1000+ upon release and who the hell is acknowledging the value of the brick by actually purchasing it? Or what about the banana taped on the wall for Art Basel in 2019? Well it’s selling for a soft $120,000 each banana and is currently showing at the Guggenheim. Yea, you heard that right. Some Italian artist took someone else’s spot by taping a banana to the wall and titling it “The Comedian.” Did the decaying piece of art deserve what the New York Times describes, “the Mona Lisa-like attention”? It’s like drawing a mustache on the legendary Mona Lisa. Oh wait, someone already did that. His name is Marcel Duchamp. He’s the one who scribbled the mustache on the Mona Lisa, and challenges work that seemingly has no value and questions the concept of “good art.” Duchamp was also notable for anonymously submitting a rotated urinal for an exhibition. The masses rejected such work. I mean I can’t deny, I probably would have too. How can someone sign “R. Mutt” on a urinal, call it the “Fountain,” and say, “Ah-ha! This, right here, is a piece of art!” You might as well tape a banana on it and call it “The Comedian Too.” But, whether you believe it or not, Duchamp influenced the sphere in which we acknowledge art. Duchamp taught a revolution in which we interpret art, not by seeing, but by conceptually THINKING. Andrew Weinstein, professor of Art History at FIT, hails Duchamp “as the grandfather, the foundational figure for all of modern art.” We can thank the urinal’s spirit of rebellion for some of our greatest artists, Andy Warhol to name one, but also trickling down to inspire the fashion figures we know today.

Raf Simons introduces minimalism in the 90s gaudy world of Versace. Almost a decade later, Supreme introduces high-quality casual skate wear meant to actually last. And, Virgil Abloh (R.I.P. Virgil was here) introduces a longer and looser-fit tailoring in the ‘18 menswear of Louis Vuitton. Abloh told Vox that his, “generation was interested in fashion [but] weren’t supposed to be there.” They never met European standards. Emerging designers break the status quo and rebel with an iconographic sensibility to their work. Steven Pressfield writes in his book, “The War of Art”, that an artist’s “job in this lifetime is not to shape [themselves] into some ideal [they] imagine [they] ought to be, but to find out who [they] already are and become it.” At a time when European high fashion houses have traditionally dictated style and trend for decades, streetwear brands forged their entry anyway. Not only did they break down the barriers of entry, but expanded the fashion industry into a new competing sector called luxury streetwear. Evidently, Off-White now surpasses notable gatekeeping brands such as Gucci and Balenciaga, who now reversely tries to assimilate to Off- White’s casual, but bold graphic pieces. But as street wear breaks the status quo, and creates a new one, who then becomes the new “elite” that gets to decide the future’s acknowledgement of “good art”? As brave as creating a space for this subculture to survive, in disregard of the rejection of hierarchical standards, creates a new elitism. The Fashion industry as we know it already has a lot of inclusivity towork on, whether it’s issues of racism, body dysmorphia, but especially the wealth gap. If you’re cool, you might have one of those chunky Bottega Veneta puddle boots costing you half your rent. If not, then it shows with your last season’s shoes. Or even worse, your Bottega knock offs. Hype culture feeds into this “cool or not cool” deciding factor. It’s one of those #IYKYK, but more so if your wallet knows too. Does society still consider you “cool”, even if your deep wallet can’t compensate for a sense of style? As long as you can simply afford the trend, maybe you’ll still fit right in. Supreme knew their customers were willing to buy anything, even a piece of brick for crying out loud. But how does it make sense that the Supreme brand designs and caters for the average New York skateboarder, but the price point creates intangibility for the original demographic? The founder of Supreme, James Jebbia, knew exactly what he was doing when he designed his lookbooks to drop every Thursday. Jebbia knew to leave his followers with “the feeling that this won’t be here in a month.” So if you were cool, you better be marking your Thursdays to be the first to cop the box logo tee. Or else, pay $1000+ from a reseller. Supreme’s marketing strategy: Be one of the few to be able to wear our pieces.

So who is that “one of the few,” special someone sitting in the foreground of their exposed-brick interior, where if I squint hard enough I may find that Supreme clay brick? Similarly, if I squint really hard at Duchamp’s urinal piece, would I understand where they see the “Buddha in a fountain”? Both forces have disrupted the status quo and created their own. Weinstein mentions that Duchamp’s work was “flaunted as the most advanced and challenging,” setting a mental unattainability. Whereas, the force of streetwear fashion has set a physical unattainability. What was once a democratization of fashion, became the limited collectible for those who can afford the hype. Instead of escaping the mold, brands have reshaped the mold into their own elitist version. The underdog brand steals the throne, then sets a new high standard and brings us back to the vicious cycle of getting to break, once again, another status quo.