When Unzipped, Douglas Keeve’s documentary about designer Isaac Mizrahi, came out in 1995, audiences had never been given such a personalized peek into the world of fashion. Before films like The Devil Wears Prada, documentaries like The September Issue, and a slew of reality TV shows like Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model, designers were seen as aloof and unknowable, the industry a walled garden. Sure, many designers displayed themselves as the personifications of their lines, allowing their likenesses to grace magazine articles and ads, but no one had opened themselves up to the cameras the way Mizrahi did.

The film, which follows the creation of his fall 1994 collection, is bursting with Mizrahi’s talk, from his style maxims (“It’s really impossible to be chic without the right dogs”), to his reciting campy quotes from old movies, to his moaning about the stresses of staging a runway show. Most upsetting is the discovery that Jean-Paul Gaultier had also mined Inuit culture (what Mizrahi problematically calls ‘Eskimo-chic’) for his collection and, as his assistant reminds him, “they show before us!” Canadian supermodel Shalom Harlow informs Mizrahi that ‘eskimo’ is a slur meaning ‘raw fish eater,’ to which Mizrahi shoots back, “If there’s a word for gefilte fish eater, that’d be me!”

Despite the drama along the way, the runway show goes off without a hitch and the collection, an eclectic mix of vibrantly coloured fun-fur chubbies, corsets, ball skirts and American sportswear by way of Mary Tyler Moore, is critically acclaimed. The film itself, helped by a supermodel-heavy ad campaign, was a minor hit and Mizrahi became the go-to celebrity designer, appearing in his own talk show, cameos in TV and film, and performing respectively on celebrity Jeopardy.

But his fame could not save his financially-troubled company and, after backer Chanel pulled funding in 1997, he closed shop.

Keeve’s second documentary about fashion, Seamless (2005), directly addresses the trouble designers have staying afloat. In the film’s first few minutes, model Karen Elson explains that many who work in high fashion lead lives that are anything but luxurious, working for free and sleeping on the floors of one-room apartments. Vogue’s editor-in-chief of Anna Wintour explains that a way of nurturing start-up designers was needed, so the magazine teamed up with the Council of Fashion Designers of America to start a fund. Seamless follows three of the ten finalists for the sponsorship, each of whom represents a different aspect of the American experience: men’s wear designer Alexandre Plokhov, a Russian expat; daughter of Korean immigrants Doo.Ri Chung, who makes all her clothes in the basement of her parents’ laundromat; and twenty-something gay couple Lazaro Hernadez and Jack McCollough of Proenza Schouler, boy prodigies whose entire senior collection at Parson’s was bought by Barney’s department store.

Smack dab in the middle of the reality TV decade, the designers in Seamless have little doubt that their public personas and their brands are one and the same. “They asked, ‘Could I handle fame?’” Doo.Ri tells her family after the council representatives visit her workroom. “I just said that my generation understands that this is part of the whole business.”

In a cameo appearance, designer turned film director Tom Ford explains this phenomenon: “If you stay in fashion long enough, you become a creature. You start to depend on your sunglasses and all the sort of idiosyncrasies that you can indulge yourself in because you are, in a sense, a performer… All of us have our personas that we cultivate, that are part of our brand, that represent something about what we want to say. The Prozena Schouler boys [he stumbles over the pronunciation]… They’re these cute, attractive, appealing guys. Not to say they’re not good designers, but it’s part of it, it makes you want to buy into that.”

Each of the designers present their creations and business plans to a panel of judges, fashion insiders like designer Narcisco Rodriguez and Anna Wintour, bringing to mind the nerve-wracking evaluations of reality TV. The idea that the appearance and personality of the designers is important is mentioned again and again by the panel, as they repeatedly refer to the applicants they like as “so charming.” Ultimately, the council rewards the designer who best presented the whole package for a successful brand: talent, originality, business acumen and an engaging personality. The process that started with Mizrahi has been completed: designers are the product as much as their designs.

- Max Mosher

Pattern Inspiration: Sonia Delaunay and Fashion
Since Sonya Wornette wrote about Sonia Delaunay in issue 4, I’ve been a big fan. This post from Sarah Scaturro (Textile Conservator at Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum and, ahem, WORN issue 11 contributor) compares some textile patterns that fashion designers this past year have shown with selected objects from our their upcoming exhibition, Color Moves: Art and Fashion by Sonia Delaunay.

How fashion week is cramping Haute couture’s style
Nathalie Atkinson is one of my favourite Toronto writers because she gives style writing a good name. It’s so refreshing to read smart, thoughtful, and entertaining observations of this business we call fashion.

What Should We Be Doing?
A short report on a panel discussion to share ideas on how to increase production for NYC’s stagnant garment district. This is an event I would have loved to have attended, in a city I would love to be in, at a school I would love to study at. What do you say, Parsons?

Stitch by Stitch and Block by Block
A profile of the Williamsburg Seamster, an honest to goodness door-to-door tailor. This makes me happy. “I don’t really want to contribute to the clutter, I’m more of a problem solver than a designer.”

Made in L.A.
The trailer for the 2009 documentary following three Latina immigrants working in Los Angeles garment sweatshops as they embark on a three-year odyssey to win basic labor protections from a trendy clothing retailer. I’m annoyed slash irritated with myself for not tracking this down yet.

your loving editor-in-pants,
Serah-Marie

Before last week, I had never heard of George W. Trippon. Now I know he was a dancer in Hollywood movie musicals, apprenticed at MGM studios for costume design, studied fashion design in Paris under the G.I. Bill, founded and operated the Trippon Fashion Center School of Dress Design in Hollywood for 26 years, and finally and gloriously starred in a daily TV show teaching women how to sew called “Sew What’s New” from 1972 until 1994.

This documentary was made by Shawn Quinlan, who met Trippon in LA in 2008. After Mr. Trippon died a couple of years later, Quinton was given a stack of his show tapes and a box of photographs and clippings. Inside he found the makings of a interesting documentary and, according to the YouTube posting, a chance to fill the void of information on gay life in the 30’s and 40’s.

I’m so glad I found out about this guy. That’s what happens when you have drinks with awesome friends, they tell you about facinating things, then send you YouTube links the next day. (Thanks Grant!)

hearts,
Serah-Marie

Hair India presents what can arguably be called the uglier side of the beauty industry. Directed by Raffaele Brunetti and Marco Leopardi, the film shows the extreme differences between India’s richest and poorest, and the roles both play in the obtaining and selling of one of the most popular recent accessories: hair extensions.

The film follows a young girl named Gita and her family living in West Bengal. Having no other material possessions to donate to their temple, they plan on collectively shaving their heads and sacrificing their hair, a common ritual where they live. In a culture where a woman’s beauty is so highly regarded, the act of giving up one’s hair is not a simple decision. Meanwhile in Bombay we meet Sangeeta (pictured above), the editor of a gossip magazine who busies herself with such tasks like finding a professional palm reader to dish on the personal lives of major Indian celebrities. While looking for a new hairstyle before a huge party, Sangeeta turns to hair extensions.

Between following the lives of these two women, the documentary observes how the temple sells the hair to a company in Italy called Great Lengths, who then bleaches, colours, and sorts the hair and turns them into extensions, sold around the world. They are a hot commodity coveted by the rich, from celebrities in Hollywood to Sangeeta and her peers.

The film does suggest that there is an injustice being committed, but it is hard to pinpoint who exactly the culprit is. There are the temples who sell the hair without the consent of the donating parties, but if all the money goes back to charitable events, can it really be inferred that the temples have dishonourable intentions? It seemed clear that Sangeeta, the glamorous magazine editor with an obsession for celebrity culture and makeup, was seen as silly and shallow – after all, the audience at the screening I went to laughed when she said she hoped her new extensions would make her look like Shakira. Shots of Gita and her family living in near poverty accompanied by melancholic music are interspersed with scenes of Sangeeta at high profile events wearing designer dresses, yet I still find it hard to vilify her as a bad guy of Disney proportions – after all, she is a woman trying to find success in a society that, although different from our own, still places great significance on a woman’s physical beauty (as emphasized by the great pains it took for Gita to eventually donate her hair). Could it be possible that Sangeeta herself is just a different sort of victim, falling prey to a sexist and shallow culture and merely ignorant to the conditions under which the hair extensions were made?

In a post-screening interview with the filmmakers, they explained that their job in creating this documentary was not to give all the answers, but rather to ask the relevant questions. In that respect, their film was successful. Hair India does a good job of displaying the relevant information so that, even if the film doesn’t solve any problems itself, it certainly raises awareness of the issue.
- Anna Fitz