At the Fyodor Golan show on Friday for London Fashion Week, some models strutted the catwalk with Post-it notes stuck to their outfits.
One insouciant model wore them on a transparent PVC skirt. Another wore them on her denim trousers. Small and sticky squares floated over breasts, spines, shoulder blades, hips, knees, calves, thighs and, in one fleeting moment, a pubic region.
That model — “I love you,” read a yellow Post-it on her crotch — looked like she had just been mugged inside Staples. She wore a grey pullover with patches resembling a damaged mouse pad. Her entire neck was encased in a black choker the size of a file folder. This had the unfortunate effect of making her head look like a caster on an upturned office chair. It’s possible someone also vandalized her eyelids with an orange highlighter and conditioned her hair with a glue stick.
But you know what? This is fabulous news.
For the first time ever, high fashion is now practical.
It was bound to happen. The world is teeming with populist movements and working class resentment. People are rising up and demanding to be heard. But until this revelation on Friday — we can now accessorize with random junk in our desk drawers? — haute couture remained in a time warp.
Targeted exclusively at preening elites and rich snobs eager to drop thousands on wildly impractical garments, the runways never showcased any useful ideas for those of us who barely have time to get dressed in the morning, let alone show up for work in bejeweled blazers and velvet gowns.
High fashion was for the privileged few, the shallow name-droppers who sip champers when they roll out of bed at high noon. It was for the pretentious social climbers who have nothing to say and very little to remember and, as such, can’t possibly know the value in wearing words.
That’s what makes this new trend so exciting. Not only can you be a fashionista by visiting the nearest Dollarama, now you can get super-organized just by getting hip. Who needs a calendar reminder when you are the calendar? Meeting times, grocery lists, phone numbers, passwords, horoscopes, lottery picks, the name of the new guy in the mailroom with access to even more Post-it notes, now you can look like you just sashayed off the cover of Vogue or GQ by sporting any and all useful info under the pretext of style.
And imagine how much more you will get done every day without the need for small talk. There’s no reason to blather on about the weather when you can slap a sun or cloud doodle to your shoulder. Why waste precious time chatting with the gas station guy when you can mutely point at your chest: “Fill ’er up with unleaded.”
Forget name badges — these geniuses at Fyodor Golan have invented life badges.
I’ve already co-ordinated my stash of yellow, green, pink and blue Post-it notes with possible shirt-and-pant combinations. I’ve scribbled out some generic messages I can slap on my forehead this long weekend, messages that are sure to answer any questions my wife may have: “It sure does,” “Happy to,” “Of course,” “It wasn’t me,” “Yes,” “I already did,” “No, it looks great,” “OK” and “Where is it again?”
If I can get her to also jump on the Post-it bandwagon, we could sit for hours in blissful silence, just sticking notes all over ourselves. We could plaster To-Do lists on the kids and even tack reminders on the cat: “Me no like new whitefish wet food.”
Misunderstandings will drop by half, one letter at a time.
There was an interesting Q&A in the New York Timesan interesting Q&A in the New York Times this week with Tom Lenk, an actor and comedian who uses household items — ribbon, pipe cleaner, paper plates, balloons, trash bags, hoses — to replicate wacky celebrity outfits. He then posts ridiculous side-by-side photos on his popular Instagram.
As Lenk noted: “Fashion takes itself so seriously, so it’s fun to say, ‘Oh yeah, I made this $50,000 dress for 50 cents out of Pringles cans and doggy chew toys.’”
That does sound like fun. In fact, now that Post-it notes are a must-have accessory, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see more breakthroughs in the realm of office supply chic: paper clip earrings, Liquid Paper nail polish, binder tie clips, push pin cuff links, carbonless copy hosiery, potpourri vests, stapled navels.
And when that day comes, when our wardrobes are identical to our workspaces, there will be no more haves and have-nots. For a unit cost of less than 1 cent per fashion statement, we will all look like a million bucks.
“I love you,” will read every crotch in the world.
vmenon@thestar.ca
vmenon@thestar.ca
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