NYC Blog: Men's Fashion, Retail and Visual Merchandising | The Bespoken: For Gentlemen

Santa Claus Conquers The Martians

First, there was the Titanic, then the Hindenburg, then came “Santa Claus Conquers the Martians”, (1964) arguably one of the all time worst movies ever made. Pour me some instant Swiss Miss, and curl up on the couch, I love a trashy Christmas film. Santa Claus may have conquered the Martians, but what about Main Street?

Here‘s The synopsis…The citizens of Mars, including Momor (Mom Martian) Kimar (King Martian) are worried that their children, Girmar (Gilg Martian) played by Pia Zadora, who in an interesting casting note actually is Martian, and Bomar (boy Martian are watching way to much Earth Television. (Just like my mom, who warned that if I sat too close to the TV I would get radiation poisoning, thanks mom!) There’s no Dr. Spock, or even a Dr. Phil on Mars, only an 800-year old Martian, Chochem, who warns that the children of Mars are growing robotized due to Martian society's overly rigid structure; (after all, their education is fed directly into their brains through creepy machines… just like at my grade school), so Martian children are not allowed any individuality or freedom of thought. Cochem advises that children should be allowed to have fun.

(Gasp!) which is as close to heresy on Mars as you can get. Regardless, the Martians figure that the best way to remedy the situation is to kidnap Santa Claus, (and a few pesky Earth children), and bring them to Mars to make toys for the children of Mars. When they arrive, (Bound and gagged) Santa is forced to work in a Martian factory to make toys for the little green children. (Yes, with antenna.) This is where Santa introduces a “Slinky “ to the Martians, who you would think considering their technology would know what a coil is, but I digress, the factory is like a Louis Vuitton sweat shop in China, lead paint not included. Let’s just say that despite the adduction, the Martians are not too fond of Santa, they try to kill him, and the Earth kids, sabotage the factory, ruin the toys, treat him like dirt, and are otherwise not too friendly. After much plodding intrigue, a little Stockholm Syndrome in Santa, and some lousy musical numbers, the Martians realize that they don’t need our Santa; they have their own lame-o version, that’s right, a knock off on Mars. (Stay away Chanel!) Anyway, Santa and company are sent back to earth… with a thud!

Sample Dialogue: “No siree! We're going out the good ol' fashioned way. Prancer and Dancer and Donder and Blitzen, and Vixen and Nixon... oh, consarnit I get those names mixed up, but the KIDS know their names.” Santa Claus

Well Santa may have conquered the Martians, but Main Street is another matter all together. Americans too might be more like Martians than we care to admit. We too can be petty, have unreasonable expectations, and want more than Santa can readily provide. Therefore, we look to retailers to be our Santa Clauses. Just like Santa on Mars, retailers are doing their level best. Its weeks before Thanksgiving, but holiday windows in New York are beginning to pop up. With trusty camera in hand I’ve taken a few quick shots to show you just how fun, joyful and elegant this years Christmas promises to be, thanks to great retailers!

Club Monaco gives us a black & white Christmas. As always, great towering graphics of an elegantly dressed woman and a man in top hat and tails dragging home a Christmas tree, which frames a headless couple, him with a ridiculously long scarf, which conveys that a scarf can be a fun item, even for a guy. It’s BRILLIANT!

If that's not your cup of tea, the opposite window has a blackboard background with a simple white chalked Christmas ornament, which hangs like the moon over an Irish knit sweater. It’s childlike without being childish.

Who says holiday has to red & green, especially when you’re Versace? A deep blue and rich purple radiates luxury, and with blinking spotlights magically circulating around the masculine merchandise, this retailer is ready to outfit for your big holiday event.

Lord and Taylor offers customers two distinct sartorial points of view. One is a glamorous woman donning a white feathery gown; she's casually posing in a white birch forest, as cascades of crystal snowflakes magically lace the forest. It’s simply poetic, like something out of a fairy book.

The other windows are classic animated scenes, a Currier & Ives version of NY during the turn of the century when this retailer moved up to Fifth Avenue. These windows are recycled from years past, but joy of joy, capture Lord & Taylor’s heritage. My favorite is the giant snow globe with a scaled down model of Lord & Taylor’s inside. It conveys the message that the store is precious too.

This retailer on 34th Street, used vintage typewriters, painted holiday red (very smart) with oversize keys that spell out "WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS". Even without the product in the window, the display captures your attention. Now I want a red keyboard for the holidays!

These are Macy's pre-holiday windows on the side of the store, reflective Mylar squares in varying sizes are strung from ceiling to floor, they glitter and move like perpetual confetti with none of the mess. There’s a kind of visual excitement that has a festive party feeling.

 

Armani Exchange works along the same lines as Macy's. Facated reflective prisims dangle from the ceiling creating irristible movement, capturing the reflections of lights and movement in the street.

Disney isn't set up for Christmas per say, but these blue fairies are dressed like princesses with the window titled..."And they lived happily ever after". What little girl wouldn't like to receive a fairy tale costume for Christmas?

Anthropologie realizes that there is more to life than just an old fashioned Christmas, currently they're promoting their paint by number dish set, and inspired graffiti painted vintage furniture in their "paint it yourself windows". They're bright, colorful and visually perfect. Anthropologie subtly reminds us that a thoughtfully homemade gift really demonstrates the real spirit of Christmas. This is a retailer who knows who their customer is! The paint by number dishes are groovy!

Retailers across the board are strapped for cash and visual budgets are tighter than the reigns on Santa's sleigh. That doesn't stop this always-creative luxury retailer, Bergdorf Goodman, from making great props out of foam core, cardboard and paper. These details of paper-sculpted dogs are wintry white, and beautifully executed. Message: you do not have to spend a fortune to look like a million dollars.

If this window seems to be a blurry mess, it’s because the mannequin is strapped to a knife throwers board that is rotating 360 degrees. This carnivalesque take on fashion could only be one adventurous retailer, Juicy Couture. The window is dangerous, exciting and makes us remember what it was like going to our state fairs and amusement parks.

New York is still on a high over the Yankees win at the World Series. This store in Herald Square www.mysuit.com is becoming a kind of phenomenon; they produce custom-made suits in less than two weeks, for usually less than 450.00. They know which side of the bread their butter is on, and this holiday season are offering this custom Yankee pinstripe suit with an official Yankees lapel pin. What guy would want a suit in his team colors? This is clearly a guy’s store that gets guys.

Il Natale Che Quasi Non Fu

It may be Greek to you, but it’s really Italian, for “The Christmas That Almost Wasn't“, which is a 1966 cult classic film directed by actor, Rossano Brazzi, starring Paul Tripp (also the scriptwriter). It was sometimes beter known as "Christmas Isn't Coming This Year". The beloved Tripp was the host of “Birthday House” a local kid’s show where you could have your birthday on TV. (Which yes, my mother would not write a letter for me because she thought it was too ostentatious, no sour grapes!) On the face of it “Christmas Isn’t Coming This Year“ is just another cheesy Italian film, poorly dubbed, (think Hercules) with painted backdrops, and lots of overacting, but it used to air on TV, and therefore became a holiday classic. The only thing the film is missing is Pia Zadora as a Martian child. The film is best viewed after consuming several frozen banana Margarita’s.

Practically ripped from today’s headlines, the film remains frightening apropos. Tripp plays Sam Whipple, (no relation to Charmin) an attorney in Once-Upon-A-Time-Land, (although I never thought of elves as being especially litigious), who is startled to receive a visit from Santa Claus shortly before Christmas. It seems that when Sam was a child, he, wrote a thank you letter to Santa for the presents he'd received, and offered to return the favor someday. (Sweet, I never sent a thank you!) Well, that day is now! A mean old landlord named Phineas Prune, who holds the deed to the North Pole, is demanding the back rent. (Santa a mortgage deadbeat? Note to Santa, refinance!) Otherwise, Prune is going to evict Santa, Mrs. Claus, and all the jolly elves to the curb, and take all the Christmas toys as collateral. A despondent Santa confides to Whipple that “It looks like Christmas isn’t coming this year.” Face facts in December Santa is cash poor. Quicker than you can say Fannie Mae, Whipple takes matter into his hands and just in the (saint) nick of time.

 

Well, across America there are eerily similar stories being played out, not just by homeowners, but especially by retailers who over built stores, and some in locations where they knew there was inadequate business to sustain them. They too are being kicked to the curb. What with easy financing, high interest rates and loans approved without due diligence, it was a real estate free for all. Now we’re all paying the price.

Complicating matters, more people are making their purchases online, rather than standing on line. With the frantic 9-1-1 response to last holidays dismal sales, retailers spoiled us with door busters, give-a-ways and insanely reduced prices creating a discount mania, if it wasn’t marked down 80% customers just walked away. Other customers quickly learned to buy late, and buy cheep. Post the holiday season, customers realized that they could get by with less, and that another grey cashmere sweater wasn’t a priority.

Anticipating this trend, Retailers are starting the holiday season sooner. Traditionally in the US Christmas officially starts the day after Thanksgiving, but that’s changed little by little each year. Customers will complain that Christmas is coming too early, and that it’s a turn off. Personally, I love it, by the way, in Europe where there is no Thanksgiving, retailers starting installing Christmas ages ago.

FYI: Here’s a historical factoid, in the US, Thanksgiving traditionally fell the last Thursday of November (by proclamation of Abraham Lincoln). Retailers in 1939 asked President Roosevelt to move it up a week to extend the buying season during the Great Depression to help beef up sales, and there it has remained.

Personally without being too Jerry Hermanish, “We Need A Little Christmas”. What harm come from some bright red bengaline, a holiday bough, some flickering B lights and some suggestion of hearth and home? Holiday time is about giving, not buying. Retailers are doing their best to give us a great holiday experience, let’s not be Scrooges. Christmas is coming this year!

Courtesy of  www.retaildesigndiva.com where it appeared on November 11, 2009

PS: The film also featured Sonny Fox, who was an icon of local children's programing and someone I will be writting about someday soon.

 

Romantic Leads: Starsky And Hutch

Delight is my religion, style is my God, and I am a slave to fashion. That being said, I’m listening to my “Best Of The ‘70’s Hits” and listening to the Starland Vocal Band’s “Afternoon Delight”, and naturally thinking about “Starsky and Hutch”. If you are asking yourself, “Who was cuter?” its like asking yourself, “Who had more supernatural powers, Jeannie or Samantha?” There are two camps, there always will be, and ultimately it is a draw. It would be easier to figure out the meaning of life.

I was a junior in Columbia High School, in Maplewood, NJ when “Starsky and Hutch” first aired. Under the production of the Aaron Spelling arm, “Starsky and Hutch” was a 1970’s (‘75 to ‘79) hit for ABC, which was known for its evenings of slick private eyes, and hard-boiled police dramas. In an effort to distinguish themselves all the networks (There were only three) scrambled to give us hybrid quirky concepts like McCloud, Columbo, McMillan and Wife, Barnaby Jones, Kojak, Police Woman, The Six Million Dollar Man, The Rockford Files, Ironside, Mannix and Kung Fu, and that was just Tuesday night! Neither fish nor foul, “Starsky and Hutch” catered to the younger set, more interested in what Starsky wore, and how blonde Hutch’s hair was. Please God let David Soul sing this week!

1975 Factoid: The Grammy Award for the Record of the Year goes to Olivia Newton-John’s, sensitive ballad, “I Honestly Love You”. In 1976, David Soul’s returned the favor with his even more sensitive ballad, and number one hit, "Don't Give Up On Us".

Starsky and Hutch were undercover cops who practically lived with one another, yes, they kept separate apartments, but hung out together, slept on each other’s couch, went to the beach, the disco, habituated the club scene, and jogged in onion skin shorts in the park, but they were just “buddies”. (Well, it worked for Kate and Allie.) They looked like us, the disenfranchised, the counter culture. Starsky and Hutch were as much in search of an identity, as the way they were in search of a bad pimps and drug pushers.

1975 Factoid: Saturday Night Live premieres on NBC. George Carlinhosts the first show. Its irreverent humor includes drug references, breaking down stereotypes, belittles politicians and explores sexually taboo.

Fashion historians concur that the 1970’s was not the kindest decade for fashion. It was a transitional period that bridged the post ‘60’s mods, bohemiacs and hippie chic styles to the ’80’s era of conspicuous consumption, preppy looks, power suits and shoulder pads. As such, Starsky and Hutch’s style reflects the period’s hedonism, break away from the status quo, and is rich in sexual liberation, and self-expression.

 

Breaking down the fashion on the series reveals the layers of why the show was in part successful. Starsky and Hutch were apart of the denim culture. Their jeans had the right flare, were low rise, looked aged, well worn and captures the times wash before manufacturers even knew what a wash was. Denim in the mid-seventies was limited to two labels Levi’s and Wranglers, not surprisingly Starsky favors Levis, and Hutch favors Wranglers. Both Starsky and Hutch are aware of their derrieres, as is the shows cinematographer who films them walking away…a lot! Denim in the mid-seventies was not an option for the office, or an evening out. It had not crossed over. Denim was weekend wear, casual and relegated to the back of the closet. It was a secondary fashion statement. Denim belonged to the under thirty crowd. Adults did not wear denim. Starsky and Hutch pay little attention to these old conventions. Starsky repeatedly wears an iconic Icelandic sweater coat, with a geometric print. He wears it in every episode. Like many men, he has adopted it. It is his security blanket. He curls up in it. The sweater coat was gender free, and was even worn by Monroe on the beach, so it is no wonder that Starsky chose it as his signature piece. (FYI Marilyn’s was from the Scottish label Ballantyne). Once dated, that look (the sweater coat) has recently returned. Starsky and Hutch both wear oodles of leather jackets, all brown, black would be too punk. The jackets follow the periods ¾ look and traditional blazers with patch pockets. Like the groovy cops they are, the collars are turned up, and best when accessorized with black Ray Ban aviators. Naturally, there are turtlenecks galore. Hutch wears his college baseball jacket, which is Kelly green wool flannel and beige cow hide leather, it’s boyish and becoming. And benefit, it’s blousy enough to conceal his gun. Fashionable and functional both Starsky and Hutch wear second hand Army and Navy fatigues, making their anti-military stance evident despite that they never get involved in politics.

1975 Factoid: The city of Saigon is surrendered, and remaining Americans are evacuated, ending the Vietnam War.

At the disco or Huggy Bear’s Club they wear film acetate and polyester tops in psychotic prints that reference (albeit poorly) Art Deco. The slacks are assuredly pastel polyesters and look like an advertisement for Angel Flight. Welcome to the 1970’s. Shirt collars are perfunctorily pointed, pressed, starched and hang outside the lapel. Disco not needed. They were boots, sneakers and even an on occasional pair of Wallabies. If you are too young to know what a Wallabie was, it was the equivalent of Uggs in the ‘70s. They were soft, comfy and suede. Visually and fashion wise the show captures the mood and spirit of the times.

1975 Factoid: Mood rings are introduced and reach their peak in only a few months, selling more than 20 million before passing from popular fancy.

Both easy on the eyes, the protagonists were two dedicated Southern California policemen. There was dark curly haired Brooklyn (read: Jewish) transplant, David Starsky (Paul Michael Glaser). Born presumably of immigrant stock is a third generation American. Clearly, he defied his mother wishes and did not become a lawyer or doctor. He was a streetwise detective with intense, almost brooding bi-polar tendencies, sometimes-childlike moods, sometimes detached and humorless. Playing Yin to his Yang, there was the straight haired blond Duluth, Minnesota native (read: wasp) Kenneth 'Hutch' Hutchinson, (David Soul). He was a more restrained and intellectual character. Hutch was romantic and soft, and alternately passive-aggressive. They traveled together to work under the radio call sign "Zebra Three", (no explanation) where they were known for tearing around the streets of "Bay City" in reckless abandon, in Starsky's two-door red Ford Torino muscle car, with a large white vector stripe, sometimes referred to as “The Stripped Tomato”. Rich in location shots, which added to the shows realism, much of the show, was shot on location in the Los Angeles beach community of San Pedro. The building that was used as the "Metro Division" headquarters is now San Pedro's City Hall. In an interesting casting twist, the police chief was played by the gruff and sometimes sadistic Bernie Hamiliton, which presents a man of color in a predominantly white world. In 1975 there were no shows featuring African Americans giving orders to Caucasians. Starsky and Hutch were disillusioned, alienated and marginalized even in their profession, but it was an age of disillusionment.

1975 Factoid: John N. Mitchell, H. R. Haldeman, John D. Ehrlichman are found guilty of the Watergate cover-up, they were later sentenced to 30 months to 8 years in jail.

People will say that there are too far few gay images years ago (and still today) to them I say you simply need to look a little harder.

 

Fans loved the gritty, often violent plotlines, tempered with the flirtatious and comic banter, and particularly the close, devoted and enduring friendship between Starsky and Hutch. In stark contrast to police characters on TV up until this time, Starsky and Hutch were comfortable with physical gestures of affection; they posed with their arms around one another. They hugged, and slapped each other on the back (but not too low). They often declared that they only trusted only each, and felt it was them against the world. Yikes! I wanted to be a cop and I was only sixteen… okay I was seventeen! In a blooper tape made during the show's run that can be found on YouTube, a narrator suggests that some Hollywood industry types referred to the characters as "French kissing prime-time homos“. Not surprisingly, this parallels a similar thesis that was advanced by psychologist, Fredric Wertham in his groundbreaking and seminal text, “Seduction of the Innocent” (1954) about the relationship between the comic book hero Batman and his sidekick Robin; "male bonding" is the term now used for such relationships.

1975 Factoid: Accident prone, President Ford escapes assassination attempt in Sacramento, CA on September 5^th he narrowly escapes a second assassination attemptin 17 days on Sept. 22nd.

Starsky and Hutch traversed the gritty streets, and when stumbling for a clue or key piece of information, (to move the narrative along) played along with their main underworld contact, the street-wise, jive-talking and effeminate Huggy Bear (Antonio Fargas). Huggy dressed, how should I put it…extravagantly (Think Ron Ely on a bad day). Even in 1975, it was difficult to be taken seriously in a faux fur zebra print trench coat and purple polyester leisure suit dripping in gold chains and pinky rings. Despite his walking on the edge of the law, (and I mean the edge of it) the honest and trustworthy Huggy also seemed to be positive black role model. He’s you run of the mill snitch with a heart of gold, that doesn’t want to see his “hood” taken over by creeps, rapists and pushers, he’s redeemed.

All good things come to and end, and in 1979, amidst rising concerns about violence on TV, anti-violence tirades were filling the press, which paralled Glaser's concerns about the level of violence in the series. When negotiating his contract Glaser forced the screenplay writers to cut down on violent action scenes, and to employ more romantic and socially themed episodes, and to play up the "buddy buddy" aspect of the show's leads even more so. This and other factors contributed to the fading popularity of the series.

As America entered the 1980’s it was eager to break away from the now identified “Me Decade” the era of disco was in decline. America longed for something new.

Men: The New Frontier in Fashion

It’s a seasonably brisk Wednesday evening, November 4^th; most men are at home watching the World Series playoffs. I think it’s the Yankees versus the Phillies. Clearly, I don’t follow sports. I am with all the other men in New York who aren’t watching the big game, all 53 of us, men who are more interested in what the Yankees are wearing, than who they are playing. Its 7:00 pm, suppertime at Barnes and Noble, the intellectual haven of the Upper West Side, Broadway at 82nd Street. Did you know that Edgar Allen Poe lived around the corner? He wrote “The Raven” there.

There has not been a raven on the Upper West Side since the 42^nd Street Reservoir was dismantled. Tonight we have convened for “Men: The New Frontier in Fashion” moderated by Mike Albo, The New York Times "Critical Shopper "Columnist, performing artist and novelist, you can visit his website at www.mikealbo.com, which is alternately both humorous and disturbing. Bertrand Pellegrin, Retail Strategist, author of “Branding the Man“, Robert Bryan, author, “American Fashion Menswear” former Men’s Fashion Director for The NY Times Magazine, and Alexander Galan, Designer for the Loden Dager Fashion Collective,which you can visit at www.lodendager.com

The crowd is patiently waiting for the four speakers to arrive, included in the mix are a few lonely retailers, a social historian, one or two college professors, and a charming homeless person simply looking for a respite from the cold. We all share one thing in common, a love for fashion.

The event is announced by Louis Pizzitola, who in addition to being a Barnes and Noble employee, is the author of “Hearst Over Hollywood” (a must read if you are interested in William Randolph Hearst, Marion Davies and the Hollywood years). Mr. Pizzitola has just strategically arranged the author’s books in a meticulous fashion, and with the mathematical precision that only an anal-retentive “type A” personality like me could appreciate. While we have met, he does not recall me. Long story short… I once worked for his companion, which was how can I tactfully describe this…a nightmare, but I digress.

Before I share my analysis with you, I have to step back, paint the picture and confide a few biases. Whenever you see any panel of designers or fashion “experts”, it is natural to assess what they are wearing, and ask yourself, would I take advice from any of these people? How else can we judge the merits of their hypothesis? “Do as I say, not as I do?”

Truth be told, despite his resume, which is impressive…very, I had never heard of Mr. Albo. That is only a poor reflection on me. I will confide, despite his manner of dress, which he describes as “looking like an eco-terrorist” and that “even in a suit I look like an eco terrorist…dressed up for a court date”, ba dump ba (sound of drum stick), he at best manages to appear like your typical Chelsea clone, including the state issued soft red plaid flannel shirt, tight jeans and unpolished Redwing boots (a look I didn’t like in the 70’s, or 80’s or 90’s, still holds up as a look I really don’t get). If nothing else, I am consistent.That being said, I did find him remarkably attractive. Please note I fall in love at least twice a week, so this may not mean too much. Mr. Albo has that scruffy hiresuit look, with a mane naturally curly, and just two haircuts too long. A few strategic curls are graying. He’s a genuine New York neurotic, which I’m always drawn to, (being that I’m so fiendishly stable). I’m certain he’s in therapy. Since Mr. Albo is a performance artist, he’s always “on”, with a smart gay sensibility, sarcastic charm, and with oh so clever  retorts that, even Cole Porter might pen one of Albo’s jabs in a lyric. What can I tell you, I go for those funny boys; there is something pathetic and desperate that‘s a turn on. Hey, these days we all need a good laugh. I’m certain he’s very funny in bed, and I mean that in a nice way. The fact that he wasn’t the best friend or second banana on Frazier still boggles my mind. Will someone call central casting?

 

As for Mr. Pellegrin, he’s apparently from San Francisco, boyish in looks, almost impish. Yes, he has dimples, yes, he has thick dark eyelashes, and yes, even his lower eyelashes are pronounced (and that’s without benefit of Maybelline). When you are cute and in your twenties, that’s terrific, when you are cute in your thirties, it’s okay, but when you are cute in your forties, it’s just sad. He was wearing a striped vintage jacket, Navy with a light blue stripe, with deep peaked lapels, its cut well for his slender frame. He wears a dark washed pair of jeans cuffed up to about six inches, which is about five to many for me, therefore, the romance was over. Mr. Pellegrin is articulate, confidant, and strikes me as the kind of man who knows how to juggle many plates, but I once dated a plate juggler, and decided I didn’t like being one of his plates. Mr. Pellegrin has a gentlemanly demeanor.

 

Sitting next to him was the impeccably attired, and suave, Robert Bryan, who is the closest thing to Tom Wolfe we have in New York City, (actually Tom Wolfe lives in New York City…I think, but you catch my drift). Bryan has a distinguished resume which includes key positions DNR, Menswear, M, and W Men's Portfolio, and not to mention being the Men's Fashion Director at the New York Times Magazine for years. He too is wearing a beautiful Navy suit jacket, and jeans, but his look includes a pocket square, a Windsor knotted tie, and slicked back hair. He personifies the “old school” of refinement, so it’s no wonder that he is periodically photographed by The Sartoralist (Scott Shulman). Bryan is a walking billboard of class, elegance and taste. He speaks in a soft secure tone, assuring and attentive. His responses indicate that he is informed of history. I imagine that he would be a perfect date for dinner; know the difference between a salad and dessert fork, gracious, I bet he’s even give you his arm as you crossed the street. Finally, a gentleman. Jane Austen would have adored him.

 

Last, but least, was Mr. Galen, with ready access to fashion I was perplexed by the scarf that was draped around his shoulder reminiscent of Lautrec’s, “Aristide Bruan“. Granted I live in a glass house, I do the same thing, but I am aware of “set and setting”, Barnes & Noble is not the kind of set or setting that calls for a cashmere or silk scarf, artfully draped over your left shoulder, it just wasn’t that cold in the biography section. There was a somewhat bland top, grey slack and forgetful footwear. His dark framed glasses made him appear more like that nebbishy kid in the back row at school that always had the answer, but never raised his hand. Mr. Galen described his look, and the Loden Dager look as “the kind of clothes you’d design for your friends”. I was surprised that Mr. Albo didn’t interrupt, and smugly say, “Maybe you should think about getting some new friends!”, but now I’m just being pernicious. In fact, Mr. Galen has talent, and at least is doing something different in menswear. He describes himself and Loden Dager as “having a vision”, in short, he’s not just making more clothes.

Albo facetiously begins by telling us “that he took some coke backstage, so I hope its okay?” I think he was being facetious. With some carefully composed questions, the interaction is tangential, going this way and that. The topics are diverse, why the Menswear Sector is emerging (despite the economy), and what are some of the issues are concerning the state of men’s retailing, some interesting ideas were presented…

Fashion is evolving (as it always is). A marked change occurred in menswear around 2002, as the hip-hop/urban culture embraced the dandy, examples, Sean John, Russell Simmons, Alexander Benjamin etc… as a result we all started “dressing up”.

With the advent of “Mad Men”, men were turned on by the 60” suit as uniform; it’s smart, sophisticated and inpenetratable. The “Revivalist Suit Movement” resonated with the public; the consumer finally understood Thom Browne and fell in love with Brooks Brothers again.

Fashion helps you get the girl.

Men want something new, but are afraid of change, translation, they want the same shirt (that they know fits, and makes them feel good) but in a different color.

Successful retailing is about understanding “mood“, the temper of the times, and catering to that feeling.

Fashion is like drugs, there are some people who abstain, some who experiment, some who are recreational shoppers, and some who get addicted.

Today’s man wants something that makes them feel like they're living.

The men’s fashion market is segmented, (just like media is segmented). Never before have demographics gotten more specific, while counter intuitively the merchandise being offered is getting broader (read: generic).

Shoppers are attracted to price point, they now know that they can get something stylish at H & M and Wal-Mart, they no longer need a “name” brand, so they need an incentive to want spend more money.

Following that, clothing has to be cheap enough to want to try something on. Men do not like getting undressed; it’s too laborious and unpleasant. Retailers too often fail to understand the importance of creating better dressing rooms, and staffing them so that they don’t loose the customer, or the sale. If they find the pants they want, but have the wrong size, the customer gives up and leaves the store. It doesn’t matter that the right size is on the rack, they don’t want to get dressed, lace up their shoes and go back on the sales floor to find it.

Contrary to popular opinion, men do shop; they shop at technology stores, home improvement centers, music stores, athletic stores, shop online, colect memorabilia and hang out at bars. Retailers need to integrate and re-create that experience/environment in their stores.

Some stores that have been successful with this theory are J. Crew's Liquor Store, John Varvatos’ CBGB Store, and even Abercrombie & Fitch.

Men need tailoring, (we’re not a one size fits all or extra large population). Men need to learn about the importance of “fit”. Retailers need to respond.

Due to climatization, the economy, and the old rules of what constitutes winter clothes versus summer clothes, selling cycles are no long as rigid as they once were. Retailers offer goods to soon or hold on to them too long because they are tied up into the old notions of ‘season”.

Men hold on to their clothes, even well dressed men are wont to give up a pair of fraying socks or torn underwear.

Men are becoming more aware of what it means to be a man, and that what you wear can make you feel more masculine, more attractive, more powerful, and sexier.

Re-entering the lexicon is the phrase “man-up”. There is an expectation that men should be more (traditionally) manly, the pendulum is swinging back.

Retailers need to tell a better story…visually.

Props and decoratives in the store need to stimulate the customer, they need to make the world (store) come alive.

Men’s stores should not be like a supermarket, supermarkets were designed for housewives who made lists, and men do not make lists.

Retailers and salespeople need to help educate the customer, salespeople should be stylists.

As always, I’ve only skimmed the surface, but you should be up to speed.

Yes, I purchased both the books, which came to $84.38. I did not faint; I will adjust my weekly finances accordingly. I reason if I cannot afford to dress in the worlds best designers, at least I can afford to look at their clothes. Yes, the price of a dream in New York City is 84.38, but what a sweet dream it is.

The Kiss Of The Spider Woman

She hangs above the pavement like a goddess. She seamlessly floats magically into the night. She is a Spider Woman. It is Halloween on Fifth Avenue. There is not a tick or treater on the street.

 
Photo by Sindi Schorr © 2009

Some retailer’s actually understand their customer and understand the product they sell; most retailers unfortunately do not have a clue.

Halloween has come and gone. Most feeble retailers did the same thing they did last year, and the year before, and the year before that.

Does this sound familiar? It did not matter if you sold fine jewelry or hardware, it did not matter if you sold beautiful clothing or shampoo, the visual merchandising was identical, it included poorly strung cheep polyester spider webs criss-crossing windows with a heavier hand not seen since Bela Lugosi starred in Dracula (1931), interspersed were black paper cut outs of witches in profile, skeletons and candelabras. Strung from monofilament were limp rubber bats, and lining piles of mismatched orange and black merchandise were plastic skulls with gory blood dripping down like a broken toilet pipe. You walked past, thought “yuck…ugly” and longed for the days when you were a kid and Halloween was actually mystical and fun.

Bergdorf Goodman is not the kind of store you think of when you think of Halloween. They do not sell pirate outfits, or slutty nurse uniforms. There are no candy bars in plastic pumpkins on their accessories counter. I doubt that a penny was even collected for UNICEF. (Now I’m dating myself!) Regardless, that did not stop them from doing Halloween better than every other store in New York City. This is a retailer who understands their customer, and understands their product. They have no equal! Their Halloween windows were beautiful, eerie and captured the puerile magic of Halloween. The windows are sinisterly titled “Tales of Technology”.

Bergdorf Goodman in a sinfully creative way once again raised Visual Merchandising to an art form. While they had several great Halloween windows, one in particular featured a beautifully adorned mannequin in a golden sequined gown; she was ensnared (suspended) in a crystal Swarovski spider web. Her make-up is gaudy. Visual Merchandiser, and demi-god, David Hoey even saw that her nail polish even matched the ruby red of her lips. Also tangled in this web was a golden scorpion broach so large and ostentatious that it begged to be purchased just for its grandiosity. If that was not enough, also tangled in this macabre scenario was the real pay-off, a bejeweled laptop reinforcing the metaphor of the “web”. BRILLIANT! The internet,  the World Wide Web has ensnared us too. We are its victims. Bergdorf  Goodman’s makes technology beautiful. If they can make a laptop glamorous, can you imagine what they can do for us mere mortals? Okay, Bergdorf Goodman partnered with Dell Adamo to create this special series which includes, one laptop in mother of Pearl, another in laser etched faux oriental red silk, and a tarot like card that is done in faux ivory scrimshaw. I was green with envy, they are so stunning that I was ashamed of my laptop which has a vinyl adhesive skin of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” that I bought on EBay.

Okay, maybe you have no need for a golden gown or a jeweled broach, but everyone has a generic laptop that is not personalized, makes no statement, and says nothing about you, the user. Bergdorf Goodman created a series of windows to feature their one of a kind lap top skins that turn a perfunctory item into this year’s “must have” glamour item, more deeply personal than your iPod, more beautiful than your best piece of jewelry. You may not be able to afford them, but no harm comes from visiting their website to take look. www.bergdorfgoodman.com

If photographer Schorr’s images has captured your interest, please visit her photo album to see her “Kiss of the Spiderwoman” and her “Princess and the Pea” series. Aka “The Princess and the PC”

Misspelled Tattoos

It is the time of the year when many retailers start hiring their holiday help. It used to be Christmas help, but now it’s just generic, politically correct, “holiday help”. God bless retailers everyone. Even with sales projections down by 1% from last year, retailers are still hoping that Santa will work his magic, but it’s difficult to trust the only man who lives in the Antarctic, and still drives a sleigh.

Well, just yesterday I was in one of my favorite retailers (I won’t mention their name, but it rhymes with “Nacy’s”) and I realized that there were temps, (aka…the lowest form of humanity on the retail hierarchy) allover the place. It was delightful. The holiday season has begun. I was asked if I needed help at least a dozen times over. I was more catered to than a Persian cat at Westminster.

Now you know I’m a seasoned shopper, and know this particular store especially well. I’m also obsessively compulsive, as Visual Merchandisers are wont to be. I was in the men’s shoe department perusing a table of cordovan tasseled loafers straightening up. The shoes were grossly out of alignment, by at last as much of a quarter of an inch, and it was just driving me crazy. Anyway, carpe diem, I decided to take the opportunity to rearrange them by style and price point, which seemed perfectly reasonable to me. I looked just like I belonged on the sales floor, busy and officious. (FYI: I’d never pass the Nacy’s psychological) But I digress; it was no surprise to me when a misguided tourist asked me where they could find the elevator. I barely got an “Ola”, out of my mouth when a well meaning holiday helper interrupted, I wouldn’t take issue, but he directed them towards the escalator, which takes you to “Juniors” which is the next best thing to schizophrenia at Nacy’s. The mind reels! He must have missed orientation.

As for standards in the great American retail landscape…despite the talent out there, some stores will hire anyone; you’d think they’d be more discriminating. Let me paint the picture, the holiday helper (aka…little elf) was all of 19…maybe, with a Christen Soriano wispy boy coif, black channel polish on his pinky (only) chattering silver cuffs, a discrete amount of eyeliner, and a tattoo poking out of the back of his neck that read, now get this… “Only God juges me”. (Maybe he couldn’t read it; it was on the back of his neck) I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt, and accept “juges” sort of as in the way Carson Kressley (“Queer Eye For The Straight Guy”), would “jujjes” someone‘s hair, but no, it was meant as in “judges” to pronounce a declarative analysis of right or wrong, or good and bad. When I corrected his spelling error, he said that it’s the new way to spell “judges” without the “d”, and gave me a “Whatever!” Hmm, did I miss the update in this years revived American Heritage Dictionary?

Therefore, I will take his misspelled tattoo to heart, and I will not “juge” him. As for God, I doubt he shops at Nacy’s; he always seemed more like a Nordstrom kind of guy to me.

Courtesy of www.retaildesigndiva.com where it appeared on November 3, 2009

John Shaft: Gentleman In Leather

It is a gruesome reality of our culture that we think of James Bond as personifying a gentleman, i.e. one who dons a tuxedo, martini in hand, (shaken not stirred) the smug annunciation of his name, “Bond…James Bond!” There is the litany of fast phallic cars with as much horsepower as the Autobahn will permit. Bond attracts fast women. Bond is blasé about his state of the art firearms. James Bond, like a comic superhero jumps through walls, off of buildings and periodically fends off bullets strategically in his fleshy shoulder like they were a bee sting. (When will those Russian spies learn how to shoot straight?) James Bond is a waspy, well-educated Caucasian, a (for hire) mercenary, a loner, sometimes a cad when warranted, and his behavior is motivated (usually) by doing good, all of which ads up to the elemental design for an aspirational gentleman. The Bond franchise is as sacrosanct as the papacy.

On the other hand, there is John Shaft, the slick streetwise former vigil anti cum private eye. There is no need for a fitting at Tom Ford when Shaft is poured into his sexy leather trench coat and skintight leather jeans. Shaft smokes a chewed down Avo cigar, and don’t mess with his double entrondre of a name…”Shut yo’ mouth”. He runs the gamut from being almost romantic to overtly masochistic. His car is fast, but travels city streets where there is heavy traffic, stop light and baby carriages to dodge. Braless women with libidos are not afraid to come on to him, wanting nothing more than a one-night stand, and certainly not a drag of a relationship. Shaft talks dirty. When a cop gingerly asks Shaft, “What you got? Shaft replies, “I got laid”. Shaft carries a licensed 45 firearm, and when called for a sub-machine gun. (They do come in handy for surprise attacts  with drug lords). If you even deigned spit on Shaft, you will get a bottle of Scotch cracked over your skull so fast that you had better be able to dial Bellevue before you hit the floor, and that's a rotary dial! John Shaft is no ones “brother”, he is a loner, a brute, and his behavior is motivated (usually) by payback for some heinous act. The Shaft franchise with two sequels, a bland TV series, and a somewhat recent remake (2000) is as dated as davenport.

Bond is cool like shaved ice; Shaft is cool like freshly mined coal from deep within the earth. When heat is applied, ice melts, coal however heats up the room. Bond is the man we were told we should want to be, but could not. Shaft was the man we wanted to be, but would not dare admit. Bond is a bad "good boy". Shaft is a good "bad boy". Bond is a fairy tale creature of the world’s glamorous capitols when contrasted with the graphic reality of Shaft’s inner city. It is urbane vs. urban. That being said, if I could choose one man to hang out with, take some life lessons, or career advice from, the choice is self-evident. John Shaft you are the man! If you could melt down Sean Connery and Daniel Craig into one man, they would only have half the sex appeal of Richard Roundtree.

Shaft (like Bond) has always had a “fashion sense”. There is the hip black ribbed turtleneck that defines his expansive chest. The leather trench coat with upturned collar and lapels, are more peaked than Batman’s winged cape. Shaft wears zip up boots with a clunky heel deep enough to "kick ass", and crush your fingers as you beg for mercy, and give up the info on the whereabouts of “Bumpy’s lil' girl“. Shafts gloved hand was an appendage for his Macanudo, (phalic smbol) which stunk up the room, but left no questions that it like his masculinity was foul, intoxicating and attractive. Shaft preened, and wore a tank watch that griped his wrist like a police cuff, or a slave bracelet. He wore a big bulbous ring, which was both groovy, and hurt like hell when his fist hit your jaw. Shaft never wore an undershirt, he would rather sweat. As for packing heat, Shaft was cut so well that in his shoulder strap for his gun tucked just above his abdominal muscle, it poked out of his jacket like just that much more musculature. It made Steve Ms Queen’s version n “Bullit” look like he was toting a knapsack under his arm. Speaking of packing heat (another kind); John Shaft was sewn into his leather pants, which made his thighs look like an erogenous zone painted in polished onyx. Even in his plaid polyesters, which were the fashion wrong of the 1970’s, they looked like they were magnetically applied, every bulge and triceps, revealed like the “Apollo of Belvedere“. Maybe it’s a “guy thing”, did I mention that Shaft sat spread eagle, unlike Bonds proper knee to knee, or crossed over legs, like a belle at a cotillion. Ruth E. Carter was the Costumer Designer for the film. Ruth Carter I bow to you! Costume is character. Shaft is dressed like a real man. Thanks to Carter’s inspired and authentic wardrobe, the film captures the sleekness and empowerment behind the new styles that were being introduced at the time. Clothing that came up from the street, not from designers up on high. The look was so stylish it was immediately co-opted by white America. Shaft's three-quarter-length leather jackets tight flared pants, pocket less derriere, combined other tight knits made Roundtree a fashion icon, the ultimate "sex machine to all the chicks." Almost thirty years later Giorgio Armani would draw on the Shaft look with his collection inspired by the release of the 2000 remake.

Shaft is not a simple character. There is unarticulated sub-text here. While Shaft may have an office in gritty Times Square (pre-Disney), and although he may hang out in Harlem, a curious note, his apartment is in Greenwich Village. (Read gay, in the post Stonewall era). Shaft hangs out at Café Reggio drinking espresso, and habituates the infamous “No Name Bar”, a gay bastion that attracted the leather crowd. Yet Shaft is not sexually ambivalent. He is not a square. He appears to use women, but has no real need for them beyond one-night stands, is this a metaphor? Shaft is a presumably married man, in an open relationship. He’s not on the down low, but operating seamlessly in two worlds. Like stereotypical queens, bad cops, snitches, and thugs make fun of Shafts hyper-sexuality, by teasing him with effeminate jabs. There is more to John Shaft than meets the eye.

During its first release (1971), the film made more than 12 million dollars making it one of the most profitable films of the day. The film only cost about 1.2 million dollars to produce. Shaft was directed by famed photographer, Gordon Parks, who’s affinity with carefully composed sequences still seem fresh by today’s standards. The “Theme to Shaft”, by Isaac Hayes was a crossover mega-hit, and won an Academy Award. Actor, Richard Roundtree was given short shrift (or the "shaft") by Hollywood. What followed the success of Shaft were a series of poorly written scripts, and a series of lame sequels like “Shaft In Africa”. Producers and directors failed to acknowledge Roundtree’s potential. Roundtree was dismissed as a natural, reduced descriptively as "a former Ebony model", told he was good for only one role, pigeon holed. In fact, despite the limitations of a two-dimensional role, Roundtree brings more to the role than called for, in any given scene he is surprisingly revelatory, seductive, distant, charming, ambivalent, hostile, romantic, intelligent, boyish, calculating, evil, needy, flirtatious and a dozen other attributes. Shaft is not a role that even the very gifted Poitier could carry off.

Shaft was a pivotal film of the early 1970’s that predicted the emerging role of men in color in the action adventure genre. Roundtree helped navigate past the predictable, and created a hybrid genre, that we take for granted today. Shaft approaches the often-maligned “black exploitation” films. Shaft is not an exploitation film; it is really a “noir” featuring a man of color, albeit shot in color. Shaft, because of its envious popularity and black casting is too often reduced to a “cult” film, a film whose appeal is supposed to be primarily for black audiences. Nothing could be further from the truth, the film resonated for the white middle class, and appealed to the anti-establishment types that loved to see "the man" get his comeuppance. One wonders if Coppola’s "Godfather" could have been made without Shaft helping to set the stage for glamorized gangster films. Granted, in retrospect, part throwback to the hysteria of white rage, fears of race wars, the civil rights movement and black power, the film (despite age) still sadly holds up. Early on, we see the gorgeously attired Shaft hailing a cab that passes by Shaft, and picks up a bland white guy a short distance away. If I were a cab driver, I would stop for Shaft, alas; I do not have a driver’s license.

In 2000, the film was preserved for posterity by the US National Film Registry, Library of Congress, for its cultural, historic and aesthetic significance.

If you have never seen Shaft, or if you haven’t seen it in years, I’ll encourage you to watch it late at night so that you will have some sweet “bad ass” dreams.

Is There More To Salesmanship Than Pretty Boys?

In a prior post I wrote about how “Retailers Are Like Boyfriends”(August 17, 2009) , I.e., embodying the attributes and deficits of the masculine persuasion, today I venture even further…take my hand dear one, the journey begins…

Contrary to popular opinion, the world’s most attractive men are not movie stars, play vampires, or score on “Gossip Girls”. They are not models for Ralph Lauren, marry Demi Moore, or appear in “People’s Sexiest Man Alive” issue. The world’s most attractive men do not advertise underwear, play soccer whilst dreaming of Posh Spice, report the weather, or late breaking news stories. The world’s most attractive men, usually go unnoticed. They pour coffee at the local dinner, deliver FedEx packages, and rake the lawn on Saturday afternoon, right before the big game. They are school teachers, work in drab offices, and periodically are accountants for Deloite and Touché. The world’s most attractive men are sitting right next to you on the subway, get lost at IKEA, and know by rote all the benefits of the gold toe socks in the men’s department at JC Penney. It’s true; some of the world’s most attractive men are behind the counter at your local department store. Retailers should promote this the way that Calvin Klein promotes Jamie Dornan, or The Gap promotes Andres Velencoso.

There are many reasons why anyone might want to shop at the Phineas Cole shop in Paul Stuart. The suits are among the best quality and handsome being sold in America today. Another reason you might want to consider a purchase is that the salesmen are drop dead gorgeous. You don’t even have to purchase a suit; just walk by the corner of 45^th and Madison to see for yourself. I sometime walk half the wrong way around the block just to take a glance. Suits start at about 1,500.00 unrequited love…absolutely free.

The young men at Abercrombie & Fitch are hand picked (like Georgia peaches) for their defined abs, chiseled features, pale blue eyes and supposedly naturally sun streaked hair. They are dimpled and dangerous. They are like candy, at first glance, quite appetizing, but after a few bites, it all tastes the same, empty calories, which is why the staid men over at Saks and Brooks Brothers are infinitely more interesting (and fully dressed). Gracious, they even wear bow ties. They range in age, and come in different sizes and shapes, and ultimately are a hundred times more masculine that those boys at A & F. Like olives from the Mediterranean, they are an acquired taste.

I’ve never been accused of “shopping” around, but prior experience dictates that I would never date a salesperson at Barney’s ever again, no matter how darn cute they are. The salesmen at Barney’s do not know how to love, but they do know how to apply product to their hair liberally. Barney’s seems to attract narcissists, hence my frequent visits. Granted, those young men look they could date Anderson Cooper, and benefit….are downright flirtatious (well, they are on commission) and in most instances easily had, but after the sale is made, the conquest is over, they are about as much fun as a barrel of monkey’s (not very).

If you are genuinely interested in the hirsute, I would suggest the trade at H & M. The salesmen are scruffy, and just one shave away from working at Kenneth Cole. The H & M salesmen are winsome young lads who fancy themselves as poets and musicians, but who in the glaring light of day dare not entertain a rhyming scheme, or can play enough chords to attempt “Stairway To Heaven” on the guitar. Their persona’s are a sham like the clothing, something that looks like something, until you try it on, and realize that its magic evaporates like a magicians green powder. Poof!

And I have only skimmed the retail surface. There are scores of retailers that I have neglected to include. So tell me where do you shop hoping some attractive salesperson will strike up a conversation, and you will have a “meet cute”? Do tell! Confession is good for the soul…usually.