I can’t hold my tongue any more. It’s abuse of position. Jeremy Scott is using the glittering Moschino name to peddle his own nasty wares. Can we call security? Get this guy outta here! This is one Scot(t) that should have been granted independence this week!
Okay, so he has a sense of humor and thinks fashion should be fun. He doesn’t know the code and is trespassing on our property
Franco Moschino had a clever, questioning, political point of view, using his fashion as a platform to tackle issues of consumerism, drugs, AIDS….and then, as well as all that, he knew how to have a laugh, yes.
Through fashion Franco bantered with women; he engaged in witty repartee. Even when he embroidered For Fashion Victims Only on our back, or Waist of Money around our middle, it was clear he loved women. There was respect behind what he did. Jeremy Scott is laughing at us, pointing his finger and sneering, calling us dumb.
If Scott responds to the inevitable criticism of his Spring 2015 Barbie-inspired collection with some drivel about how it is a commentary on today’s portrayal of women, if I read that, if those words come out of his obnoxious face, I will throw my computer out the far window right into the koi pond. I will. Poor fish.
For there is no commentary here:
Please fashion editors, bloggers, and postmodern provocateurs, don’t project an intellectualism on this that isn’t there. Scott is incapable of profound thought. The LA smog has more depth than him. This is not Legally Blonde. There was some grey matter worn with that pink. No, women, he wants you to look like a Paris Hilton ditsy tits.
Worse still, droves of you will lap this up (you’re not friends of mine though, thankfully). Where I will be confronted with it, up stickily close and personal, I’m already prepared, is in the classroom. The less reflective students entering the fashion design program will think this is cool. Them, their 13 year old sisters, all Katy Perry fans, rap video vixens, and ladies of a certain age who used to be described as mutton dressed as lamb. There you have it: his core customer base. It’s no laughing matter. That’s quite a demographic.
Luckily for the 13 year olds, it is so easy to knock off it will be in high street stores in about, oh, 17 minutes. Gather your pocket money and prepare for joy.
Forewarned is forearmed. This was not shown with irony and will not be worn with irony. Spring will be bleak for the post-13-year-old set.
It will sell like hot…er, cupcakes. His contract will be renewed. I’m in a bad way about the whole thing.
His work is so conspicuously commercial it’s the antithesis of Moschino.
Franco, the perennial outsider figure with a love of art and surrealism, who stumbled unintentionally into the shoes of Elsa Schiaparelli before him, and loved biting the hand that fed him, once said, “My way of being funny in fashion became a business.”
This LA club kid, besties with Miley (I wonder if he isn’t in fact Miley but with more clothes on…no, can’t be, here they are photographed together) …
But the Moschino coffers haven’t seen it so good in a decade. Patternmaking expenses alone have been macheted.
I found these words from an interview Franco did in 1997 which I thought were revealing and made me a little sad fifteen years later:
“People always try to look rich, famous and sexy. I hope that in the 1990s people are more civilized so that they don’t wear a good jacket to look like what they’re not. I hope they use more of their brains and follow their heart.”
Women, I urge you to use your brains when confronted with this rubbish. If you want an expensive tailored pink jacket (no judgment), seek one elsewhere. We do not want to be Barbie dolls no matter how this Scott dude spins it. He has a low view of women but we don’t need to buy into it.
My novel set in the international fashion industry is now available. You can buy Silk for the Feed Dogs here.