The Fashionista Files

by Karen Robinovitz

  Life was sweet.

  I stopped by a swank boutique to look for art books, which are sometimes the best fashion purchase (no matter what you look like, they’re always flattering). As I flipped through gorgeously bound, newly released reads, I noticed that David Bowie (!) was standing next to me. I have always been obsessed and in love with him. I was dying. How to get him to notice me and talk? I wondered as I glanced at a book on the work of artist Tom Friedman. Suddenly, magic in my ears. The delightful British, throaty voice of David Bowie, Ziggy Stardust himself, purred in my auditory canal. “Is that the new Tom Friedman?” he politely asked. I wanted to jump up and down and shout “You’re David Bowie! You’re David Bowie! I love you!” But I played it cool.

  “It is the new Tom Friedman. You know, he has an exhibit at the New Museum on Broadway right now,” I said calmly, trying to impress him with my knowledge (thank God I had just read a piece on the artist in the New Yorker and was abreast of the situation). David got all excited. “Really? He’s brilliant. Is the exhibit good, do you know?” he asked. I hadn’t seen the show, but I didn’t want my conversation with my idol to end just yet. Before I knew it, lies poured from my mouth (as if I had no control!): “Oh, it’s genius,” I screeched. “I just saw it. You must go!”

  David smiled and eagerly nodded. “I definitely will.”

  There was a moment of silence. Was that it? I wondered. Was our love affair over? Then he spoke again, “His work is just so . . . pre-Memphis.”

  Pre-Memphis? I had no clue what the hell he was talking about. But I agreed. “You know, I never thought of it that way. But it really is. It’s also very ironic and postmodern,” I cooed as if I were some kind of seasoned art critic. He agreed—my sign to continue. “They have the toothpaste paintings and the pencil-shaving sculptures on display. Oh, and the toothpick piece is amazing in person,” I boasted, thinking, Thank the Lord I read that article in the magazine!Otherwise, I’d have no way to fudge a conversation along. Ten minutes later, David and I shook hands and parted ways. We both bought the new Tom Friedman, which remains on display on my glass-and-chrome bookshelf, which is very Bauhaus (see Chapter Seven for Bauhaus reference in the art section).

  Meanwhile, I stressed over what pre-Memphis meant for months. Did it have something to do with Elvis? Was it a reference to Graceland? What if he was just screwing with my head? I had no clue. I asked everyone I knew and came up blank. Months later I was still on a rampage to find out what this whole pre-Memphis thing was about. And an architect friend knew! Apparently, Memphis was a design movement in the early eighties in Italy, marked by bold shapes and colors, a reaction against minimalism. Memphis furnishings were fanciful, bright, wild, biomorphic in shape. Sort of like Tom Friedman’s. But as David Bowie pointed out, Tom’s work seems ever so slightly before Memphis (at least, that’s what I told myself).

  A few weeks later, I was at a friend’s house and everyone was complimenting a sculpture in their apartment and I pretentiously remarked, “It’s so pre-Memphis,” just to see what kind of reaction I’d get out of my new favorite word. Everyone smiled and agreed.

  Then someone piped up, “It’s also kind of ironic.”

  Another joined in: “And postmodern, don’t you think?”

  I could only laugh to myself.

  SOMETHING TO BUZZ ABOUT

  A fashionista must be able to wield proper lexicon as smoothly as James Bond. The point of fashionista chitchat is to come off smart, informed, and fab, whether you know what you’re talking about or not. Below, the best buzzwords and how to use them in a sentence.

  Allan Schwartz (v.): The act of totally knocking something off, copying it to a T. The phrase is inspired by designer Allen B. Schwartz, of ABS fame, who, after every major award ceremony (Oscars, Golden Globes), successfully rips off the best dresses worn by the brightest stars and then sells them in his boutiques a week later for one-sixteenth of the price. (For example: “Darling, are you wearing Versace or are you Allen Schwartzing?” Some may even just use “Schwartzing” for short; fashionistas hate wasting their breath using multisyllabic words.) Can also be applied to “Steve Madden,” the once-imprisoned (tax evasion or fraud or something like that) shoe designer who knocks off whatever Prada and Miu Miu do.

  Beyond (adv., adj.): So much, used as an adverb to describe a verb. (For example: “I miss you beyond.”) Also used as an adjective to stand for gorge. (For example: “That micromini sweater dress with lace is beyond.”)

  Birkin (n., v.): A style of Hermès handbag that starts at a price of $4,000. The large, soft leather tote is named after actress Jane Birkin, and there are four-year-long waiting lists at Hermès stores around the world. Every fashionista’s aspiration. (For example: “Daddy got me a Birkin for my birthday.”) It can also be used as a verb, as in, “I just Birkined.” Meaning: “I bought a Birkin.”

  Book (n.): In the magazine world, book is a term that means magazine. (For example: “That piece on thigh-high boots in the front of the book was beyond.”)

  Collection (n.): A body of work. The most common fashionista term for a season of clothing from a designer. (For example: “Halston is no longer doing regular RTW collections, but rather, couture fittings only.”)

  Couture (adj.): People misuse this word often and throw it around casually in order to describe something that’s major, but really it is a French word that describes original styles that are immaculately sewn, tailored, and expensive. Haute couture literally means “high sewing.” And true couture clothing is not sold off the rack. Heavens, no! It is handmade—hours of manpower behind it—in an atelier (French for studio). Couture designers (Gaultier, John Galliano, Christian Lacroix, to name a few) show their collections twice a year—in the spring and in the fall/winter. A couture gown might cost upward of $100,000. (For example: “It took Lulu eight months of fittings to get her couture dress, but it is so major and beyond, it was worth it.”)

  D-list (n., adj.): Far from the dean’s list, it’s actually a person or group of people who are in no way noteworthy. They cannot help you with your career. They often crash parties. They have no significant job and they tend to social-climb in search of the limelight. (For example: “Why would you go to a party in that part of town? It’s so D-list!”)

  Edgy (adj.): Modern, slightly off-kilter, forward, or futuristic, and razor-sharp in aesthetic or attitude—in the best possible way. Fashionistas use it to describe designers, outfits, interior design, DJs, CDs, films, or haircuts they can’t quite explain, but appreciate. (For example: “I don’t know what happened to Moby. He used to be so edgy.”)

  Fashion credits (n.): Information about who designs what. Typically written in a small font and seen on the pages of a fashion magazine where fashion is being modeled, be it a full-on spread or in a celebrity shoot. (For example: “I am dying for those motocross leather pants, but I forgot to read the fashion credits to see who makes them.”)

  Full Gooch (n.): Short for full Gucci outfit, head to toe. (For example: Girl 1: “I don’t think she looks good tonight.” Girl 2: “But she’s in full Gooch!” Girl 1: “She is? Huh. Well, in that case she looks hot.”)

  Genius (adj.): In fashion-speak, genius has nothing to do with one’s level of intelligence. Instead, it is meant to describe something (an article of clothing, an earring, a newspaper report about rare goats in the Himalayas that yield a new kind of cashmere) in a positive—nay, incredible!—light. (For example: “The ruffles of that skirt are kind of genius.”)

  Gorge (adj.): Short for gorgeous. (For example: “That Michael Kors dress! Gorge!”) Fashionistas like to speak in short, fragmented words (it allows them to save their energy for other, more important things, like shopping), so you could also say “fab” for fabulous or “to die” instead of “to die for.”

  Hipster (n.): A low-rise pair of pants (For example: “My hipsters give me plumber’s crack when I bend down, but aren’t they genius?”); also, one who closely follows the trends, keeps an accurate mental Rolodex o
f pop-culture references, and tends to wear all black. (For example: “Those cigarette-smoking hipsters at the bar think they’re all that.”)

  Ironic (adj.): The dictionary will report that the word means to express something different from and often opposite to its literal meaning, or an expression marked by a deliberate contrast between apparent and intended meaning. But fashionistas use it in the same vein as they do postmodern—to fudge their way through conversations and come off sounding intellectual, savvy, hyperaware. (For example: “What? You don’t like my flat shoes? But they’re so ironic!” See also, “postmodern.”)

  J’adore (v.): French for I love it or I love you. (For example: “Did you see her Birkin? J’adore! ”) Note: Fashionistas love to use random French phrases, such as très instead of very, for no reason at all (i.e., “That boy is très cute. J’adore!”).

  JV, varsity (n, adj): Used to describe or connote beginner and advanced fashionista style. JV is short for junior varsity. Varsity is when you are willing to push all the limits and flirt with the danger of looking serious style. (For example: “That outfit she’s got on is so JV, but I dig the varsity accessories.”)

  Limo-to-lobby/lobby-to-limo (adj.): A way to describe gorge garments and/or shoes that are not practical for anything other than show, meaning they would not be comfortable for anything other than getting out of a limo and going to the lobby (or restaurant, party, venue) and vice versa. (For example: “I got the sickest new shoes. I can’t really walk in them, but they’re made for sitting anyway. They’re so lobby-to-limo.”)

  Line (n.): Collection.

  Major (adj.): Beyond! Said with attitude and zeal, it is a way to express something so great, there is not even a word for it. (For example: “She wears Chanel heels to yoga. That is major!” or “Have you had the toro tartare at Nobu? It’s major!”)

  Metrosexual (n.): A way to describe straight men who are in touch with their feminine side, as evidenced by the care they put into grooming and dressing. They can use Manolos in a sentence. They tend to get manicures, expensive haircuts, and pricey beauty products. Also described as fauxmosexuals. (For example: “Ugh. My date went on and on about his cuticles and his new Gucci shoes. I’m sick of metrosexuals. Where are the real men?”)

  Model’s own (n.): Something fashion-related that belongs to the model. A phrase often relegated to fashion credits. It means that the model was wearing something that the stylist really liked; hence, it wound up in the pages of the magazine. Consumers, sadly, are not left with an inkling of where to find one just like it. (For example: “Silk ruffled butterfly dress with lattice lacing up the side and corset hook-and-eye closures, $5,400, Dolce & Gabbana. Hat, $50, Kangol. Boots, model’s own.”)

  J’adore Juicy!

  Monograms (n.): Initializing something by way of embroidery, engraving, or some kind of permanent mark. (For example: “We both have monogrammed Juicy sweats. They’re major!”)

  MPW (n): An acronym for manicure, pedicure, and wax. (For example: “Are you going for a full day of beauty?” “No, just an MPW.”) Worth a note: We like to refer to manicure and pedicure as a “mani-pedi.”

  Muse (n.): One who inspires a designer. She is stylish, chic, sophisticated, intelligent, artistic, and sometimes even on the payroll to do such meaningful tasks as change four, five, six times a day and make major announcements such as “I like red.” A very good job to have, but not one likely to be listed in the classifieds. Muses are usually starlets, models, royalty, and social mavens. (For example: “Sofia Coppola has it all. She’s such a sick filmmaker and she’s Marc Jacobs’s muse! So who cares if things didn’t last with Spike Jones!”)

  OTT (adj.): An acronym for over the top and used to describe things that are slightly outrageous. It can be a good thing, like high boots with a micromini vintage sweater dress adorned with lace and your grandmother’s cameo, or it can be a bad thing, such as wearing way too many trends in one outfit, like a leopard trench coat with a leopard skirt, fishnets, thigh-high boots, a silky camisole, a leopard scarf, and a large hat. (For example: “Did you notice Halle Berry’s perky breasts in the movie Monster’s Ball? They’re OT T” illustrates a positive use of the word. If we referred to a porn star’s implants, we would be using the negative implication.)

  Piece (n.): Something you’re working on, such as a drawing, a sculpture made of sugar cubes at a restaurant, an article, a play, a screenplay, or any kind of art (doodles on your jeans, a paper for your social studies class). A good word to throw around when you want to project an aura of creativity. It also makes for an excellent excuse when you don’t want to do something (like go on a date with the loser your mother set you up with). (For example: “I would love to see you tonight, John, really, but I’ve been working on a piece and I’m on a roll. Maybe another time.”)

  Pink-collar job (n.): You’ve heard of blue-collar jobs and white-collar jobs. Well, pink-collar jobs are those in the fashion industry. (For example: “Paul just landed the ultimate pink-collar job—head of PR for Ralph Lauren Men.”)

  Postmodern (adj.): While the word correctly denotes artistic, literary, or architectural movements that challenge modernist principles, either by pushing them to extremes or by bringing back more traditional styles, fashionistas tend to use the term to refer to any new film, show, song, book, building, or piece of art (furniture, paintings, lightbulbs, shoes). The best use of the word comes into play during conversations relating to pop culture. Throw it out there when you have nothing else to say. (For example: “Oh, yes, I saw the new Madonna video. It’s so postmodern.”)

  At Shopsin’s, a dive restaurant where fashionistas splurge on PB&J French toast sandwiches, there are “postmodern pancakes” on the menu, which are pancakes made with chopped-up other pancakes in the middle. Also see “ironic.”

  Product placement (n.): The art of getting a product (a piece of clothing, a Diet Coke, Advil) seen in a high-profile way—say, in the background of a fashion spread, on film and television, or even at parties. There are people whose job is just to get products seen, but unless they’re working for a top film-production studio, they won’t make much money. (For example: “Did you see the Nokia phone in the Charlie’s Angels movie? Talk about genius product placement!”)

  Showroom (n.): A place of business where designers show their collections for PR and/or sales purposes. In Manhattan, the Garment District, an area of Midtown in the Thirties and Forties on or off Seventh Avenue, is where most of the showrooms are located. (To use in a sentence, try this: “I’m so glad she has a showroom in Soho. I’m sick of traveling to Midtown and Seventh Avenue.”)

  So 1995 (or any other date) (adj.): Used to describe something that is referential of a past season and, therefore, “over.” But then isn’t saying something is “so 1995,” so 1995?

  So good (adj.): A synonym for gorge. It should never be used to describe food, only clothes and accessories. (For example, “Where did you get that ruched white shirt you wore yesterday? It was so good.”)

  So very John Galliano (adj.): Something the designer himself likes to say when something epitomizes his work, which he once described as “something incredibly refined with something savage.” (For example: “Saying it’s ‘so very John Galliano’ is so very John Galliano.”)

  Stylist (n.): Extreme fashionistas. They are in charge of assembling outfits for actors for film and television, as well as dressing models and celebrities for magazine fashion shoots, ad campaigns, glamorous parties, and everyday life. Prop stylists do the same but focus on furniture, knickknacks, and other related props for rooms, and background scenes. (For example: “You look so hot tonight. Who is your stylist?”)

  Walker (n.): A gay man who accompanies a woman for the evening, typically for an event. Walkers make excellent dates. (For example: “Truman Capote was the perennial walker for high-society babes back in the day.”)

  TECHNICAL EXPERTISE

  In addition to casual phrases, per above, it’s vital to be fluent in scientific termi
nology of fashion. We recommend investing in The Fairchild Dictionary of Fashion. In the meantime, memorize these:

  A-line: Shape that starts narrow and flares away from the body in the form of the letter A. Originated by Christian Dior in 1955.

  Asymmetrical: Not symmetrical. Like that New Wave haircut you sported in tenth grade, where your bangs were long on one side and your head was shaved on the other. Typically applied to hem lengths and sleeves. Fashionistas love skirts and tops that are asymmetrical. Think one-shouldered tops and flirty dresses that skim the knee on one leg and the ankle on the other.

  Bouffant: Full-skirted dress shape whereby the bodice is fitted and the skirt is ruffled, poofy, or full. Can also be used to describe a big, OTT hairstyle, in vogue in the middle of the twentieth century.

  Cape: Style of outerwear that’s sleeveless. The fabric is cut in a full circle. There are usually arm slits and an opening in the front. Capelet is a petite cape that looks great over evening gowns or a tank and jeans.

  Chandelier earrings: Large earrings that drape much like crystal chandeliers. A fashionista favorite, right up there with the hoop and door-knocker shapes. For the record, stiletto earrings hang straight down, mimicking a long skinny stiletto heel.

  Charlotte: A type of hat that has a very dramatic and large brim with lace ruffling around the edge. Very demure, feminine, country club, and—not surprisingly—the type of thing the character Charlotte would wear on HBO’s Sex and the City.

  Chignon: An elegant hairstyle whereby a knot or bun sits at the nape of the neck or high on the head.

  Clutch: Not the small vertical thing that resides next to the gas pedal of a five-speed automobile. It’s a sophisticated handbag style with no straps. Looks like an oversize wallet. An extra-long clutch is called an “envelope clutch” because it is reminiscent of an envelope.