Blog Posts

In a Courageous Fashion: Christopher John Rogers Collection 008

Sat, 22 May 2021 19:00:24 +0000

(photo credit: Emmanuel Monsalve for Christopher John Rogers)

I’ve been sitting with the marvelous Christopher John Rogers Collection 008 since yesterday and thinking about what most struck me. What most resonates with me about this collection is that it is an incredibly successful response to a daring prompt CJR gave himself: to design a collection that amplified the house codes of a brand that, even in its first few years, has contributed signatures to design that are lasting.

In this collection we see some of the previously introduced CJR concepts, but expressed differently. The strawberry shape (such as in the look above), which has been shown previously as a dress or a skirt; though not featured in 008, the signature asymmetric pleated skirt CJR has been making since his graduation collection is clearly informing some of the ways pleats are shown in this collection, and also the silhouette of the suits with the maxi shirts and pants, (as the asymmetrical skirts were also previously shown with pants); the multicolored top stitch corsets and corset dresses; the tiered ruffles shown on looks as wide ranging as trapeze blouses and sheath dresses, to ball skirts and gowns, but memorably from past collections were the ruffles in plaid taffeta mini dress and tiered maxi skirts (in fact, the multicolored top stitch and the ruffles are conjoined in one 008 look, the Pierot styled top and black pant, where the stitch colors give the ruffles definition and flare.

And the same goes for signature colors. As Elsa Schiaparelli is known for pink, Valentino for Red, and Dior gray, for me, I think of green (my favorite color) as a color that CJR has made his own in his designs and through the whimsical ways the color is named (in fact, the names he gives to all the colors he uses in his collections are one of my favorite things about the label). The Nickelodeon "Slime Green" that we saw previously on stars like Lil Nas X in a tailored green suit and zebra shirt and opera gloves. Jameela Jamil in a "Tennis Ball" green silk charmeuse pleated poplin dress. The "Mountain Dew" green top and ball skirt that Lady Gaga wore to last year's VMAs. In this collection we get green in the form of a velvet evening dress, the green of which is called "Tomatillo." And the same is true for CJR and signature prints, especially dots, dots, dots in this collection and previously.

I could go on, but my point is that, as a fashion historian and cultural critic, I cannot overstate the import of showing your work and claiming it, saying “I gave y’all this.” Writing about fashion in the mid-20th century about designers who are no longer with us, and were here too briefly, taught me the value of designers naming and mining their archive early and consistently. So yes, in Collection 008 the fabrics are sumptuous and that is to be credited. Yes, the color could “raise the dead,” as Iris Apfel would say, and that is always a wonderful part of CJR. But what I admire most is that CJR took the year we’ve all had to sit and reflect and from that period designed a collection that shows his work in the way of the old legends, who were bold enough to offer new concepts in their lifetime and not wait to claim them as their signatures; they claimed them by mining their own archive for inspiration early and with fresh eyes, and that’s how you build an institution. That takes courage and the impact will be felt most many, many decades from now when some industrious critic or historian is thinking about what CJR contributed. Collection 008 will be there to give part of the answer to that inquiry. In sum, I admire not only the technique and the artistry of CJR and his team. I admire that they are courageous enough to take them self seriously while having fun, and doing things there way, even setting their own calendar. It is all so exciting, necessary, and very much on brand.

Here are photos of some of my other faves from Christopher John Rogers Collection 008:

Before Kim K: Patrick Kelly's Red Cotton Bandanas

Sun, 05 Jul 2020 18:22:42 +0000

Late yesterday afternoon I saw several posts, and then a story in People Magazine talking excitedly about Kim Kardashian-West’s red bandana pants and Hermès Birkin bag. I wouldn’t be a good Kelly biographer and fashion historian and critic if I didn’t take a moment to put respect on the name of a designer who did it first, and in my opinion, best.

Red cotton plain weave bandanas were a reocurring fabric used in collection of the designer Patrick Kelly collections. For him, as evidenced in his larger commentary on Black history and culture, the fabric is resonant with histories of dress among enslaved and domestic servants, working class people, and protest. I wrote a chapter where I talk more in depth about Kelly’s use of bandanas for a forthcoming collection on Black fashion designers, so you’ll have to read more about that there when it is released next year. For now, here are some of my favorite moments when Kelly (and collaborators) used/referenced red bandanas:

Patrick Kelly red bandana skirt: Red cotton plain weave, worn on runway with white peplum jacket adorned with a watermelon pendant and watermelon drop earring. (photo credit: Philadelphia Museum of Art)

Red leather mules made especially for Kelly’s s/s ‘88 collection by Maud Frizon DeMarco for Maud Frizon. The red leather is embossed with a design that effects the bandana print. (photo credit: Philadelphia Museum of Art)

Maud Frizon also made red leather sandals with same embossed design for Patrick Kelly's s/s '88 collection. (photo credit: Philadelphia Museum of Art)

Red bandanas attached with rhinestone buttons to a black jumpsuit. This look was also shown with the bandanas attached to the hem of an off-white ribbed knit dress.

The red bandanas here are attached, again with rhinestone buttons, to the waist of a black jumpsuit. (photo credit: Shrimpton Couture)

For Thomas Miller: In Memory

Sun, 23 Feb 2020 16:40:40 +0000

(photograph by Marc Feil)

Late yesterday evening a friend reached out to me with the news that another friend of ours, Thomas Miller, who for decades and until his death worked as right-hand to designer Anna Sui, passed away. I have posted about Thomas before in naming mentors and friends who have really helped me shape a life of which I am proud and truly happy. He means so much to me I can’t even fully process this news, I’m just sick right now. I’m devastated and heartbroken for his family, for his partner Marc, for Anna and everyone at Anna Sui Corp., and for all of Thomas’s friends. I send them all my love now and always.

To say Thomas was my friend, or even that he was like family, is an understatement. Thomas Miller, like those librarians I write about in my book Fashioning Lives, saved my life. It’s that simple. When I was a young Black queer kid suffering so much isolation, hatred, and dehumanization that I was depressed, felt worthless, and on the verge of giving up, fashion was my happy place. I made a resume and sent it to the offices of my fave fashion label Anna Sui Corp., and a man named Thomas invited me to an interview. I was 16. As much as I wanted to work at Anna Sui, I also just needed a place to feel safe, to be unapologetic about how much I loved art, fashion, and music of all genres. I just wanted to have a few hours in a day between being harassed at school and depressed at home, to feel free. Thomas gave me that space.

And he went above and beyond simply being someone who supervised my internship. A while after I had been working there he would invite me to join him and his friends on trips to lunch, museums, galleries, and broadway shows. The first musical I ever saw was “Rent” and it was because of Thomas. The first fashion exhibition I ever saw was an Arnold Scaasi show that Thomas invited me to tag along to. The first time I went to an art exhibition was a Keith Haring retrospective that Thomas and I went to. The first time I ate Mexican food, which is one of my faves, was at a restaurant Thomas and his friend Jen took me too for brunch on a snowy NYC morning. Thomas knew how much I LOVE Naomi Campbell, so one time when she was in the studio for a fitting, she came over to me and said hello and she knew my name and she said “thank you for helping Thomas and Anna” and gave me a kiss on the cheek, a hug, and her autograph with a sweet note on a copy of the invitation to season’s collection. When she left I went to his cubicle and he said, with a mischievous grin on his face, “So, did you get to meet Naomi?” He had totally hooked that all up.

And I would always work later than I was supposed to or come earlier, and he never made me feel like having some teenager hanging around the office asking questions and talking ALL THE TIME was a nuisance. And when he and the other staff worked on weekends during New York Fashion Week or some other big project, they’d be there all the time. And I would just show up and he’d just let me be there and find something for me to do. I always thought he knew that I needed to be there and was taking pity upon me, but just a few years ago when I said that to him he said he doesn’t remember me as being anything other than a smart, confident, funny, and determined teenager so he didn’t see it that way at all.

Thomas Miller was part of my becoming. He gave me the space to be the person I always wanted to be, and I can honestly say that if I didn’t meet him when I did my life would have gone in a totally different direction, and I either would be miserable or, frankly, not here. And that’s true. As I went off to college and then grad school we talked less often, but reconnected when I was done with school. Whenever I was in NYC we’d go to museums as always. Thomas loved ballet and a few years ago my partner and I went with him to see ballet at Lincoln Center. We had balcony seats. I remember watching him lean over to see the dancers and his eyes lighting up marveling at the performances. I am afraid of heights. Like really afraid. And so I was sitting really still and just nodding with approval whenever he looked over to say something was great. Suddenly he realized how stiff I was and totally counting the minutes until I could get off that damn balcony, and we laughed out loud during the show.

Another time we went to a bar with his partner Marc and he insisted on buying me a drink - a can of Sofia Coppola champagne in a can - because he thought it was hilarious that there was canned champagne, and more importantly, that my bourgeois self would drink champagne from a can. I humored him and we had big laughs about it. He loved pictures and took one of me drinking it, laughing roariously the whole time.

In fact I have and will treasure all these pictures he took of me. My faves are the champagne pic and also one on the rooftop of the New Museum after we saw a Chris Ofili show a few years back. Seeing myself through Thomas’s eyes is always beautiful.

I am grateful to have known Thomas. To have had my life touched by him. To have counted him among my family and friends. I know that he knew how much I loved him and valued him, I told him so. I’m gonna miss his physical presence here on earth but I know he is now among my ancestral court and that his love, friendship, mentorship, and wisdom is always available to me. If you are reading this, please send some light and love to Thomas on the rest of his soul’s journey, and please also keep all his loved ones in your prayers. With gratitude, and love, Eric.

A Moment of Grace: In Praise of Black Girl Arrogance

Thu, 15 Aug 2019 17:33:06 +0000

[Note: This essay was published, with photographs, November 2015 at my previous blog, Glamourtunist.com. Photos have been updated, text remains as originally published. ]

This Grace is sufficient. Maybe she inspired you to become more flexible so you, too, could bend and contort yourself into a scene of “Island Life.” Or, perhaps she hula-hooped you into a trance, moving the cylindrical toy around her waist as she, mic in hand, belted out one of her popular songs. It could very well be her legendary beauty – her fierceness piercing the still life of every photo she has taken, or her masterful, delicious storytelling in her recently released memoirs. In whatever incarnation you encountered Grace Jones, you, like me, are likely to have gotten your life, or multiple lives because Grace slays you and you are reborn. Grace is reincarnation.

Grace Jones represents the very best of so many aesthetically sublime and delicious possibilities and realizations for global fashion and popular culture. In addition to her album covers, music videos, and fashion editorials, she is etched into our minds through so many other moments: her role of eccentric fashion model Strangé in the 1992 film “Boomerang”; any one of the many photos of her live performances in her decades long career, such as a 1987 performance where she collaborated with artist Keith Haring for her stage costume; and her memorable runway walks such as at the Summer 1988/89 Patrick Kelly show in Paris, where she walked the runway dressed in a black bathing suit and cape adorned with an applique of neon stars and planets, red tights, a bustle of individual scarves of various colors hanging from her waste, and a hat with a long white ponytail hanging out of the top. In each of these moments and so many more, the camera shutter opens and closes on her to fulfill the promise, play, and pulchritude of every single image she has created. Her visual and performance archive is always embodying and emboldening the radical potential of fashion, music, dance, performance art and photography for exploding the neat boundaries built around race, gender, sexuality, time, and space from one moment to the next. Grace is divine.

The icon and iconography of Grace Jones emerges as a clear archive of Black girl arrogance in all its fashionable fierceness and intervention. Black girl arrogance refers to both a spirit and embodiment of intelligent, beautiful, desirable, fierce daring that Black girls and women represent – whether on the runway or in the streets, in the classroom or the boardroom, at the piano or behind the podium – that makes their presence known in a social, political, cultural context or milieu that would rather render them unknown. It is thus at times an organic way of being, and in other moments a chosen tactic, that is always and already for one’s self. Sometimes that arrogance is refusing the gaze and living one’s life, and still other times it demands of you, “see me.” The fact that anyone else gets to witness this divinity is, well, grace. And I return to Grace Jones here to give her the respect she so deserves, but also because it is through returning to Grace that I believe Black girl arrogance, in all of its complexities and genius, is re-membered for now and for what is to come.

For instance, Black girl arrogance has once again been made legible at the intersections of fashion and style with television, film, and music. We saw it just recently in Emmy-nominated actress and transgender activist Laverne Cox’s stunning photos in Allure Magazine, and in her many other moments including her picture on a 2014 cover of Time Magazine. We see it in Academy Award-winner Lupita Nyong’o’s boundary breaking and trendsetting beauty and glamour, which has completely raised the bar for red carpets all over the globe. We see it in Solange Knowles’ epic wedding photo, which flooded our Facebook newsfeeds, Twitter timelines, and Instagram pages with panoramic shots of gorgeous Black women adorned in radiant ivory gowns, and effecting the etherealness of any dream we wish would come true. And where Solange leaves us dreaming, big sister Beyoncé made “I woke up like this” the mantra of every bold and brilliant person ready to declare that who I am and how I am is already “Flawless.” The 2015 “Black Girls Rock” award show that aired on BET and Centric offered numerous examples of Black girl arrogance as intervention in many of the speeches including those by singer Erykah Badu, educator Nadia Lopez, FLOTUS Michelle Obama, Dr. Helene Gayle, and actress Jada Pinkett Smith. What about Rihanna’s recent performance of “Bitch Better Have My Money” at the #iHeartRadio Awards? The performance included many elements of power moments from the archive of Black women international pop star performances, from Lil’ Kim’s green wig and furs in the video for her 90s hit “Crush On You” to Diana Ross’s epic exiting of the superbowl halftime show in a helicopter that descended on the stage to whisk her away (also reminiscent of Grace Jones’ Strangé’s epic arrival in “Boomerang” via helicopter, and then a chariot driven by men). Here Rihanna’s daring is part of a continuum in her performances of Black girl arrogance, including her homage to Josephine Baker on the occasion of the legendary performer’s birthday at the red carpet of the 2014 CFDA Awards, where Rihanna was clad in a transparent bosom bearing silver beaded gown and bejeweled headdress. For Black women performers and Black girl arrogance, the archive and the ancestry matters. Grace matters.

It is imperative to note the historical antecedents for Grace Jones – the eccentric freedom of Eartha Kitt, the elegance and sophistication of Lena Horne and Ruby Dee, and the beauty folk ways of Maya Angelou and Cicely Tyson most come to mind. Another historical antecedent that demonstrates Black girl arrogance, and laid important roots for Grace Jones to later help define and then defy boundaries around Blackness and femininity, appears in the wonderful documentary Versailles ’73: An American Revolution. The documentary examines the legendary battle at Versailles fashion face-off between five American and five Parisian design houses, a tale examined in greater depth in the new book The Battle of Versailles: The Night American Fashion Stumbled into the Spotlight and Made History by Pulitzer Prize-winning Washington Post fashion critic Robin Givhan. Among the points made by several of the interviewees that appear in Versaille ‘73, including legendary fashion model and editor China Machado, fashion historian Barbara Summers, and fashion and beauty editor Mikki Taylor, was that the success of the American presentation at that show was the presence of Black models Norma Jean Darden, Pat Cleveland, Bethann Hardison, and so many others, whose walk of “affirmation” to quote Taylor, was what set the American show apart from the Parisian set.

While Taylor’s observation about the impact of the Black models affirmative stance is in itself a rich one to engage, I look at that moment, at Grace, and the intersections of fashion and identity and submit that amongst the gems that Black models brought (and still bring) to the runway was something that is actually in excess of “affirmation”: Black girl arrogance. This Black girl arrogance, though embedded in the very movement and being-ness of the Black models at the ’73 show at Versailles is so missing from the runways of today’s fashion shows in the lack of racial ethnic diversity, as rightfully noted in the 2014 open letter of protest authored by Hardison, and models Iman and Naomi Campbell. A black girl arrogance that haunts us when we remember the days of fashion past, and are reminded of the disappeared characteristic of personality that was once an essential ingredient to the development of a signature walk and presence on the runways for any model, Black or otherwise.

I am convinced that whether or not uniqueness and personality were ever embraced, Grace Jones would still be who she was and is. What other way was there for her to be? Still, in the way that she pushes us beyond our comfort zones, and shows us what it means to create a path for one’s self through an ethos of having no fucks to give, the existence of Grace Jones and all she has meant is priceless. Here’s hoping the next era of fashion and popular culture will applaud and embrace these moments of productive defiance like the Black girl arrogance revival of which I write, on the runways, in ad campaigns, and at the head of design houses and fashion magazines. Clearly television has received the memo, as evident in shows headed by defiant, brilliant, Black women are at the top of the ratings and lording over the zeitgeist of popular culture, from Kerry Washington’s portrayal of Olivia Pope on “Scandal” and Gabrielle Union’s Mary Jane Paul on BET’s “Being Mary Jane,” to Viola Davis’s multilayered Professor Annalise Keating on ABC’s “How to Get Away With Murder,” and most recently, leading the pack is Taraji P. Henson’s critically acclaimed and popularly adored Cookie Lyon on Fox’s juggernaut “Empire.” It is the very thing that seems to revive the very lifeblood of this global industry and persists in fashioning a future. No matter what, Grace Jones, her predecessors and descendants will carry on being their fierce self. They woke up like this.

Nicholle Kobi's Art Slay

Thu, 15 Aug 2019 17:23:54 +0000

For Christmas 2015, my partner gifted me two gorgeous illustrations from Parisian artist Nicholle Kobi. I took these pictures the very moment I received them.

I adore the her art so much and it has a place of honor in our home, where it brings me such joy to see the gloriousness of Black women's fierce fashion and style every day.

In 2019 I am wishing I had more walls in my home just so that I could have even more of Kobi's work surrounding me, it's that gorgeous. Here are a few of my other favorites:

Kobi's art can be found on everything from pillows and sweatshirts, to stationary and prints. Kobi also hosts the Noire Parisian Podcast. She also has a very active Instagram where you can see more of her incredible and inspiring work.

Kobi was interviewed about her work for Ayo Magazine, which you can read here.

I always share a good thing with others, so you can find out more about her work and purchase some beautiful pieces of your own at her website.