Evil Designs?

On this Valentine's Day, I send much love to disgraced fashion designer--is there any other kind?--John Galliano.  It's been about two years since a drunken Galliano offended sensibilities and Parisian law with a drunken rant in which he claimed, "I love Hitler."  Really not such an outrageous comment from a fashionista: Hitler was a total bastard, but the man knew how to dress.  Nevertheless, Galliano was summarily fired from his position at the House of Dior and became persona non grata in the rarefied would of haute couture, about which I care so little.  Galliano has apologized for his comments--sincerely, according to Abraham Foxman, the head of the Anti-Defamation League--and is now attempting a comeback.

More power to him.  Frankly, I don't necessarily think he should have been fired in the first place.  If he is such a genius as people claim, what difference do his personal anti-Semitic feelings make to his ability to make purty dresses.  If his dresses are, in fact, purty.

Personally, I think she looks like one of the X-men attending a charity ball, but I'll take other people's word for it.

I don't condone his remarks.  He claims to have been so drunk that he has no memory of his offensive rant.  Then again, in vino veritas--which is Latin for "I call bullshit."  But the point is, who cares?  He's not a politician; he's not a military leader; he's not even a writer of trenchant political commentary:  He's a tailor.  Or, if you prefer, an artiste.  Find him offensive? Don't listen to him.  Don't want to enrich him? Don't buy his clothes.  And if you must boycott John Galliano, don't boycott him because of his offensive remarks; boycott him because he dresses like the lovechild of Slash and Liberace.

Designer, heal thyself.

More Shameful Knowledge

The other day, construction workers at the college struck a gas line, filling the air around the campus with the sweet toxicity of poisonous vapors.  (I swear, it wasn't me!)  We had to evacuate most of the buildings.  One of the few open buildings was the cafeteria, so a bunch of us gathered there.  I sat at a table with several other faculty members.  Somehow, the conversation turned to buttons--specifically, the fact that the buttons on men's and women's shirts are on different sides.  The folks then began wondering why this should be the case.  Was this just a random decision on the part of clothing manufacturers?  Some sort of strange sexism?

"Actually," I said, "I've heard that the reasons are historical.  It goes back to the days when women--particularly upper-class women--had dressers, that is, people who would dress them.  Having the buttons on the 'opposite' side made it easier for the dresser to button the lady's shirt."

After saying this, I heard the all-too-familiar sound of bemused silence, followed by the equally familiar, "Why on earth do you KNOW this?"

I've heard the expression "guilty knowledge," but I never knew this was what it meant.

A Hairline Runs through It

In case you missed it. . .

The hottest trend in the fashion world comes not from the banks of the Seine--more like the banks of the Susquehanna probably. Fashionistas have adopted fly-fishing lures as the new must-have hair accessory. There's something charmingly "Green Acres" about the whole thing. We eagerly await Michael Kors' inevitable "Rural Bohemia" line: Trendsetters will sport oil filters from John Deere tractors as jewelry come the fall.

Solipsistography:
"When Fashion Meets Fishing, the Feathers Fly"