WHAT MADE ME LOVE FASHION

The first of an erratic-but-fond series where I remember images and moments that made me fall for fashion. Hello, Claude Montana in... Australia?

People often ask me why I left Australia for New York, and I always reply, half joking, “Delusions of grandeur.” Specifically, fashion, which formed me, and hastened my impatience to get out into the world. Of course, in Australia we couldn’t access global fashion shows like we can now, by hitting a button on Instagram and watching Pharrell Williams’ debut for Louis Vuitton live. In Australia in my teen years, the late Eighties/early Nineties, my fashion exposure came from the TV news, newspapers and international magazines that landed in Sydney three months late and cost like $20.

But my goodness, the power these images had; however I came upon them. Especially because of their scarcity. (In the biz, I guess they’d call it “limited edition.” Heh.) Fashion thrives on the mythology it creates, of course, but when you combined it with the tyranny of distance (Down Under, so far from Up Over), to me this was a myth times a million. Fashion was a superhighway, and I was still stuck on the ground.

In 1988, Australia celebrated its bicentenary (well, the 200 years since white people took over, but that’s history, I guess). Woolmark, the wool producer (who had, in fact discovered Karl Lagerfeld in 1954, awarding him the International Wool Secretariat Award), decided to produce a “spectacular fashion show” showcasing Australian wool, of course, at the Sydney Opera House.

Look, it’s baby Karl! Already a winner in 1954.

The post-event press release breathlessly read: “For the first time ever the designers agreed to present collections on the same runway: Donna Karan, Kenzo, Missoni, Versace, Oscar de la Renta, Montana, Bruce Oldfield, Sonia Rykiel and Jean Muir graced the night with their presence in a televised show beamed around the world.” The Chicago Tribune said "It was the Fashion World's Most Exciting Event in 200 Years." Geddit? Either way, Australia was, for one night only, “international.”

I mean, she was excited. This was an Australian brand, by the way, called Covers. Perhaps because they covered Claude Montana.

What a mad mix of designers it was, now I think of it. What genius convinced them all to not just show in Australia, but to share a runway? (In our time of rival luxury behemoths, could you even imagine that now?) What a peculiar time capsule it was. But, my God, it was dazzling. I mean, Claude Montana in 1988? That was like Thanos at the height of his powers! Donna Karan and her slinky black jersey, the Missonis with that chic-as-hell chevron, and Sonia Rykiel who, in one evening, made me fall in love with colored stripes forever. I was sitting in the living room of the small apartment I lived with my mom, and I was…transported.

Donna Karan’s New York woman. I would be her…someday.

Missoni, for people who twirled a lot and were perfect.

Fashion had finally come to me. The models, the cuts, the colors, the shoulders, it was completely otherworldly. The show went for two hours, and it didn’t matter to me, because I was in a trance. I mean, Princess Diana and Prince Charles were there, and everything seemed great with them!  

Well, they looked great?

That was 35 years ago now. Very few of those designers are still with us (I saw Donna Karan the other night at a benefit, actually, in her signature perfect black jersey with cutout shoulders). Fashion moves on, creating breathless moment after breathless moment every few months. I mean, Louis Vuitton painted the Pont Neuf with checks for Pharrell’s show, and that will be the thing that lights up a wide-eyed teen like I once was.

That’s the great beauty of fashion. It’s a hard business, and it can thrive on your most basic insecurities: what you look like, who you know, where you sit. The concerns you should have left behind as a teenager can stay with you, insidiously, as an adult. But at its best, fashion is magic, and you don’t just feel like a teenager, you feel like a little kid all over again.

Just like when I was watching the wildly glamorous - and slightly weird - bicentennial fashion show at the Sydney Opera House.

Let me add here that I really appreciate all of your support, with particular thanks to my paid subscribers. It took me ages to screen record these YouTube videos when I probably should have been doing something more strategic. :)

I’d also love to know what fashion images imprinted on you as a youngin. Chat away in the comments. Anyway, thanks!