The Next Fashion Trend?

 
Almost five years ago I posted a blog on wearing scrubs outside the confines of a clinic or hospital. I bemoaned that the world was getting lazy, taking this comfort thing too far. I worried that wearing scrubs out and about was less than sterile, especially if you were on your way TO work rather than FROM. That post has had 32,740 reads.

I still worry about cleanliness, but my tune on scrubs has changed. Whenever I see anyone wearing them these days I want to salute or clap or whatever we are doing to honor our front line workers.

Some of my neighbors are doctors or nurses, by the way. When we greet (at a social distance) not one of them has complained or been fearful for themselves. It's as if, for our sake, the pandemic never happened. They are angels come to earth. They are the superheroes.

Not capes or sparkly leotards, scrubs are their heroic uniforms. Nowhere was this made clearer than in an oversized eight-page supplement recently with the Sunday's NY Times. It's an ad for a scrubs apparel firm called FIGS designed as a salute to these heroes in the field. The models are all young nurses or doctors who look like they could be models moonlighting in medicine. It's basically a salute that is an ad for scrubs, which is fine. It's beautiful and touches the heart.

No clearer could a mantra for today be than "You are what you wear". Scrubs, masks, hazmat suit, protective gear for any and every part of your body make you a warrior fighting an unseen enemy.
 
I almost considered adopting scrubs as my covid uniform. Heaven knows I'm trying to fight, obeying the rules to keep healthy and encouraging everyone to be safe. Scrubs are certainly wash-and-wear comfortable, non-judgemental and come in a nice selection of flattering colors.

FIGS' founders Trina and Heather

The FIGS brand was started in 2012 by Heather Hasson and Trina Spear with celebrity backing by Will Smith. They literally started selling out of their car as they gave away free coffee outside hospitals. FIGS uses soft, anti-wrinkle fabrics woven with silver ions for their antibacterial properties. I feel better already.

These can best be described as the Lululemon of scrubs. They are styled to fit and feature extras such as a pocket to hold your wedding ring. There is even a jogger style pant with a knit Yoga waistband. 

In the end I won't adopt scrubs as my uniform because I am in such awe of this army. I don't want to co-opt or corrupt their fighting gear. I dare not presume that imitation would be flattering. When I see that person in scrubs I will, however, be smiling. Under my mask.   

Quo Vadis, Fashion?

 
Lately I've been reading my stash of Glamour magazines from 1956-60, enjoying vintage-centric sites on Instagram and Facebook and playing with a reproduction set of Claire McCardell paper dolls. My subscription copies of Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Elle, InStyle and Marie Claire sit unread in a tidy pile. Very thin these days, they don't take up much space.

I am someone who lived to love Fashion—the history of, the business of, the future of. Fashion to me is culture. I've no degree, but I consider myself a Fashion Anthropologist. The icing on the cake is I like to get dressed too.

All this time on my hands has made me wonder if fashion is even a thing anymore. I don't see where it's going, but then I'm not going anywhere either. Fashion has become nostalgia, remembering when it meant something to be dressed.

Once upon a time there were rules. With rules comes a certain relief. If you followed them you would be well dressed. If you broke them, you could claim you were asserting your personality (not unheard of even in the '50s). I remember reading that Audrey Hepburn once used a strap from a case of wine as a belt and thinking that was a genius I could ascribe to.

When anything goes, what goes with what? Think about it. What is there today that is "wrong"? Bra straps showing? That's okay. Dark bra peeking through sheer blouse? That's okay. Wearing a bra as outerwear? That's okay. Wearing no bra? Okay too.

Still not okay. Dodie Goodman in "Splash"

This is nothing new. Fashion has been on an "anything goes" trajectory for a very long time. At first I think many of us greeted that with enthusiasm and relief. Finally you could wear mismatched socks without anyone looking at you funny. But what fun is it to wear mismatched socks if everyone is doing it? 
 
Fashion was also ageless. Remember back, if you can, to the Jackie Kennedy 1960s, a style that lasted longer than JFK's brief tenure as President. I was in my 20s; my mother was in her late 50s. We didn't exactly dress alike, but you could tell we were from the same era. I could ditch the hat; she might have lower hems, but we were still "in style". It was an attitude; age alone was not a deterrent.

We all loved Jackie's style.

Forget that one can barely decipher what is "in" today. Much of fashion is aimed at the young, with a well intentioned invitation for all to play along. Thanks, but no thanks. And I don't think many of us, no matter what our age, really want to look like this:

Vogue, May 2020

Right now I question every item I have bought in the past ten years. That's how long I think fashion has been floundering. For the present I remain on Sheltering Island until the all-clear, when I can row back to civilization. Hopefully I will then look at my closet, 90% of it unworn for the past 125 days, and decide it all looks bright and shiny new again, as will the world. 

Don't Tread on My Hawaiian Shirt!

At least he's wearing gloves...

The New York Times this week reported a simmering phenomenon I wish they hadn't noticed. Members of alt-right groups called the Boogaloo Movement have adopted the Hawaiian shirt as part of their regalia. Their aim, besides trashing my husband's beloved shirts, is to inspire a second civil war. You can just imagine all the ugly things that entails.

I absolutely see no connection.

This has something to do with a 1984 movie called "Breakin 2: Electric Boogaloo", the word  mashed into "big igloo" and "big luau". So references to igloos and Hawaiian shirts represent the group's aims from civil libertarian rebellion to all-out race war. The Hawaiian shirt is even meant to be ironic, representing as it does a middle aged man's shirt of comfortable choice.  

As the wife of one of those middle aged men, I welcomed my husband adopting the uniform. They were more dressed up than a crew neck t-shirt and more original than a collared polo. Besides, the shirts were more flattering to his middle aged man shape, the one I probably fueled with too many homemade apple pies.

My husband has quite a collection of Hawaiian shirts now that he's even beyond middle age. One of his favorites cost $1.98 on sale at Sears. I love it too as it machine washes and tumble dries like a dream. Another favorite is a classy Ralph Lauren design, the first Father's Day gift our son chose and paid for himself. Who can deny my husband showing his team pride? Although this one is a dreadful rayon blend that wrinkles as you button it on. A Hawaiian shirt is the answer to How do I get him to look dressed up without making him put on long pants? In fact a Hawaiian shirt and long pants is too Miami Vice, and not in a good way.

The not-in-a-good-way way

The last thing my husband wants to promote is civil unrest. He's already put away red baseball caps. The Times wasn't clear whether the Hawaiian shirt can ever be reclaimed unless everyone starts wearing one. The best way to lick 'em may be to join 'em. Who knew camo looked so good with Hawaiian shirts? Just ditch the accessories.

Overdressed