NOTICED:THE NEW COUTURE

The recent death of Yves St Laurent opens up an interesting question. If, as the fashion media has unanimously proclaimed post-mortem, YSL was the last designer who could truly be called a great artist, could it be said that creative genius in fashion has breathed its last too?

Those who would take this position see Marc Jacobs, or say, Ralph Lauren as a mere canny businessmen, content to rifle through the vintage racks for “inspiration”. With a few notable exceptions, perhaps the sad-eyed Nicolas Ghesquiere at Balenciaga, la Miuccia Prada, or the professionally obscure Martin Margiela, it’s fairly well-tread ground to argue that fashion now is little more than a tired marketing exercise. Or scoff, as the late Yves himself once bitchily did, that contemporary designers such as Tom Ford, who took over the helm at YSL after Yves retired, are “just doing their best”.

 But the thing about brilliance is it’s penchant for showing up in unexpected places. And this summer, as I guiltily stashed away yet another new irresistibly lovely t-shirt into my rapidly expanding wardrobe of same, it occurred to me that in answer to the question whither creativity in fashion today, perhaps the most fertile field for invention out there right now is in the design of the humble t-shirt.

 For years a wardrobe basic if only as an undergarment, the t-shirt arguably came into it’s own with its’ liberation in the 80’s as a vehicle of graphic message. Since then, we’ve seen it hand-painted with fine art, printed with corporate and designer logos to create walking billboards, re-purposed as a holiday souvenir, and the bearer of mean-spirited public announcements such as “I’m With Stupid”.

 Recently, our fixation with retro irony has spawned a vogue for vintage rock band t-shirts, even in baby sizes (perfect for that toddler fan of A/C D/C), and pre-worn reprints of old tv show logos, like “ChiPs” and “My Little Pony”, intended to attract the generation who once watched them in diapers, and now wear them deliberately too small in a pedophilic variety of slut chic.

 Thanks to the refinement of new weaving technology, t-shirts now come in cotton so fine it’s literally tissue thin, which has given rise to the dominant street costume of layered tees in different hues and styles, most typically with an extra long, tight-fitting sleeveless tank top as an underpinning first layer. A related trend is the emergence of super-soft and distressed finishes, which, along with increasingly subtle dyes and colourations, are creating ever-more convincing vintage effects.

 But the newest thing out there—the same one that’s got me so excited that I am collecting them in my closet– is the emergence of t-shirts cut and sewn like a designer garment.

 With pretty details of cut and tailoring like tucked, ruffled and cowled necklines, ruched  backs and waists, slashed and gathered sleeves and blouson hems, labels such as Vince, James Perse, C&C California, Aude and Splendid have elevated the t-shirt to couture’s modern-day, mass-market equivalent—naturally, with price tags to match (these babies start at $49, and can reach several hundred).

 Taking their inspiration from the kind of innovative draping and construction one finds in the high-end artistry of Yohji Yamamoto or Rick Owens, as well as quite possibly, their cruder imitators, the one-off, recycled “art” now common to craft shows and small, indie boutiques, these labels have become full-fledged brands complete with beautiful flagship stores (James Perse in LA is like a Ralph Lauren lifestyle emporium, if Ralph was into surfing), all on the basis of their re-imagination of the simple t-shirt.

 Part of the success of this strategy, of course, is that thanks to the casualisation of just about everything, it is now fully acceptable to wear a t-shirt, anywhere, and with anything, anytime at any age. A really flattering one, of course, is even better. And voila, just as Starbucks did with “premium” coffee—and notably, both sneaker manufacturers managed to do with sneakers,  and “cult” denim brands did with denim—we are now shelling out more for a simple t-shirt than we ever imagined.

 Then again, summer is so lamentably short in this miserable climate, I refuse to feel guilty for making hay by spending way too much on a closet full of t-shirts that are so lovely and well designed, they even look good on the hanger (that goes for my jeans and sneakers too). And their mysterious allure, and it’s impossibly frivolous accompanying yearning, is, as the late, great Yves himself surely would have agreed, if not the creative wellspring of fashion, at the very least what makes it tick .