English Version | Corps de Mode

11 Mar 2022
By Carolina Queirós

In Fashion lingo, there are a lot of different bodies. The body of the fabric, of the mannequin, of the show, the body as a mold for all and every creation. It is with the body that everything starts, the one vehicle to our own existence. Perhaps that is also why we fight it so much.

In Fashion lingo, there are a lot of different bodies. The body of the fabric, of the mannequin, of the show, the body as a mold for all and every creation. It is with the body that everything starts, the one vehicle to our own existence. Perhaps that is also why we fight it so much.

© Getty Images, Artwork by Mariana Matos
© Getty Images, Artwork by Mariana Matos

There is nothing more out in plain sight and, simultaneously, more intimate. Its appearance, mannerisms, its language, filled with nuances, its scars… Life in society has taught us to hide facets of our own identity, parts of our mind and personality as mechanisms of self-defense – what others don’t know, they can’t use against us –, but the body announces and denounces us invertedly before we can even say a word. To write about the body is to open a Pandora box. It’s almost nonsensical to say it, after all, we all possess this wrapper that materializes our whole existence as we know it. The thing is that the body encapsulates the responsibility that is living, and that changes everything. In the ambit of this definition of identity, the body is at the center, intersected by an infinite number of ways and forms of expression that influence it as much as they are influenced by it. Fashion is one of those intersections. Although frighteningly personal (and almost intimidating), we would risk saying that it has never been more relevant to discuss the relationship between the two, not afraid to put them on the table together with all the emotional “baggage” we associate them with – that’s what it means to be human: to discuss, to think, to question everything, including ourselves. I started by wondering if I would be the best woman for the job of writing about the influence of Fashion on the body. If my perception would be different if I didn’t work in this world, if it would be less one-sided, less dictated by the beauty standards that insist on peeking at every corner of my personal and professional life. Perhaps if I lived somewhere else and not in Paris, a city so obsessed and imposing of its own definition of what constitutes a good look, where any misplaced pixel is enough to destroy the illusion of perfection, it would all be different. I wonder if I’m the only one questioning, but I know the answer. 

To approach Fashion as an influent and determining factor in the way we deal with the body (our own, the one of others) requires a more open perspective of its definition and reach. Above all, it demands a retrospective on its historic evolution, a look into the past to understand the present, thus I directed some of my wonderments to Emilie Hammen, a doctorate in History of Art and Professor at the Institut Français de la Mode, in Paris. The first of which, and perhaps the most fundamental, relates to my personal need of not believing everything I’m told: is Fashion that inseparable from the body as we imagine? “In a historic perspective, there is a sort of ‘date of birth’ given to Fashion, a phenomenon we’re used to calling the establishment of the Corps de Mode. It is the moment when all the integrant parts that make a look – corset, skirts, sleeves, accessories, etc. – transformed the body said ‘natural’ into an artificial silhouette. That being said, historically, yes, the body and Fashion have always been intimately correlated, since the moment a piece of clothing made of any material deforms and transforms the human appearance through its properties and restrictions, coinciding with the beginning of the observation of Fashion as a phenomenon of cultural expression beyond its practical utility. There can be Fashion without the body, but not according to the same definition.” Against facts there are no arguments, only more questions. 

Considering the metaphysical effect that what we dress can have not only on the appearance, but on the self-confidence, mental health, and state of mind, we’ve gained awareness of how much the concept of “Fashion” has grown into something much bigger and more powerful than what we might have thought at first – with a real sociological impact, with the power to define us at every moment, even if we don’t realize it. Because of all this, we feel extreme difficulty in attributing it to a specific definition. “There is a multitude of aspects that play into the definition of Fashion, but one of the most important ones is the very human need we feel in identifying and imitating others, particularly the behaviors and aesthetic norms of the so-called ‘elite’. There is a double movement between imitation and distinction that we try to emulate at a certain moment and context. It is extraordinarily difficult to escape this, it’s something intrinsic to our nature”, Hammen adds. This paradox duality we repeatedly experiment attests to the universality of the matter. Whether it is professionally, financially, or aesthetically, the underlying motivation to this push & pull implies a fundamental notion: as human beings, we aspire to belong to a far-away reality, one that is hard to reach, and deeply rooted in the dream factor. If your personality is at all like mine, you’re currently considering an apparently obvious argument: not all of us necessarily dream of the same things. It feels at least farfetched (and at most pretentious) that a single ideal of beauty, look, or way of life, could be elevated to the level of universal aspiration. The multiple artistic inspirations behind the proposals of each designer verify it. Through their interpretations and references, we get an array of dreams, muses, scenarios and elites, all connected by a common denominator capable of bringing together Haute Couture and Prêt-à-Porter, New York and Paris, Zara and Chanel: the body and, in particular, its size. 

Once that small altercation known as the original sin, and the drama that surely followed when, in the blink of an eye, the fig leaves were deemed insufficient, were overcome, the relationship we’ve developed with our birthday suit has evolved with us. Although in a way, its starting point was defined by an intrinsic feeling of hereditary shame, throughout the centuries, as the ways of thinking changed, we suffered mutations in the freedom with which we look not only to what we dress but to who we are. In the same way that the body is not only a mix of skin and other organs, a piece of clothing is also not just the thread and line that constitute it. Slowly, our appearance, our visual DNA, has become the main factor of exclusion and social scrutiny. Not so long ago – the equivalent to the last thirty seconds in the history of Fashion – the challenge of trying to find a model that wasn’t a size double zero or XXS in any given fashion show, of any brand, was worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack (because there really was no needle to start with). The temptation of thinking we live alienated from this huge detail in our daily life is very real. Someone “outside” this spinning wheel we call the Fashion industry could easily make a case that the only relevant factor for a sartorial choice is functionality, a complement of body temperature regulation, and the protection against the elements. Right, but not completely. The reach of the representation that starts on the runway is much bigger and much closer than those 15 meters of hip swings and intermittent flashes – it is in the movies we watch, the music we listen to, the magazines we read, the images we idolize and, above all, in the reflection staring back at us in the mirror. For something responsible to carry the soul and essence of a person, we can be exceptionally cruel with our bodies. Luckily, we’re not dealing with static definitions, but their lengthy evolution is proof of how long the road ahead still is. 

The injection of diversity we see today, from ad campaigns to shows to magazine covers, is a reaction to the crippling effects provoked by standards elevated to the exponent of craziness: the glorification of trends like the heroin chic look, at the end of the 90s and beginning of the 2000s, is but one example. However, I wondered if this breath of fresh air which is belonging to a generation that demands a better representation for itself might not be creating an overwhelming sense of pressure in the creative process. Emilie Hammen covered my bet and raised another pertinent question: “Fashion is an expression of the values and beliefs of a collective group. Of course, some people who think differently and that are critical of what is established as ‘common sense’ regarding that same form of representation, but the truth is that there are specific types of Fashion that work ‘better’ than others. This happens only because there is an audience, a public that identifies itself with that set of norms and beliefs, otherwise, if there was no one to sustain and consume them, they would die. That is the simplest, almost brutal, rule in Fashion. If you’re a designer who designs pieces that nobody wants to wear, you can call yourself a designer, in theory, but are you really producing Fashion?” The plot thickens. Are we the problem? It feels compelling to think that this handful of individuals proclaimed kings and queens of aesthetics, whose vision of what is or isn’t beautiful is two supreme and intimidating to be challenged, are the ones to blame for the unattainable ideals that insist on resurging at every turn. It would be so much easier if that were true. In an ultimate act of evasion, we forget that, before anything else, it is our consumption and support that carries these proposals, it is our fair share of unrealistic ideation that has established the status quo. “Fashion demands its own personification; it must be accepted! And this implies a certain alignment with what are the wishes and desires of a specific and significative group of people – not all people, but enough so that validation exists”, Hammen reminds us. 

A while ago I found myself in the middle of yet another categoric discussion revolving around the theme of this piece: the body, Fashion, and the line that brings them together. In between arguments, fallacies, and glasses of Cabernet, the conversation converged toward a specific query: does Fashion have the moral duty to be representative? I recall there was a moment of pause, of solemn silence and contemplation of this question that had just turned everything into something much more interesting. Any affirmation from then on would carry the weight inherent to taking a stand. Any indecision or lack of certitude would be considered an intellectual failure, or worse, a sign of indifference. Bravely and shy in the same measure, a voice at the end of the table risked saying we are a hyperbolic generation, too sensitive and egocentric that we’ve become illiterate before any artistic representation besides our own. The response coming from somewhere on the opposite side of the table was just as appalling: “It’s easy to say that when you’re 1,75m and weigh 50kg.” We’re in the presence of an extremely personal, sensitive, traumatic topic because it is rooted in the universal feeling that we are not enough. This shouldn’t demotivate all discussions around it, but it requires an added layer of caution and discretion. Surrendered to the certainty that there are no right or wrong answers, it was Emilie Hammen’s turn to roll the dice (and the questions): “After all, Fashion is a mirror of what, exactly? Why do people need Fashion? Are they in search of ways to escape their reality, in permanent aspiration to new and unattainable standards? Or do they look for an accurate depiction of what they are living? Is the purpose of fashion to represent who we really are? These are questions that every designer must ask when pondering on the creative process, also because they are intimately connected to the notion of success.” 

I stayed quiet for what seemed like a short eternity. In those long seconds, I ran through every corner of my mind in the search for the aesthetic and artistic references that could help me build up something resembling an answer. I thought about the vertiginous curves of Mugler and Jean Paul Gaultier’s pin up’s, the magnetism of Iris van Herpen, the deconstructed radicalism of Margiela, Azzedine Alaïa’s fierce elegance, the tumultuous genius of Alexander McQueen. I thought about the garçonettes of the 20s, the exaggerated Victorian volumes, the photography of Mario Sorrenti, Helmut Newton, and Peter Lindbergh. I never had the pretension to find any definitive answers with this exercise. When it comes to Fashion and body, the only conclusion to be drawn is the need to continue to ask pertinent questions, not only to others but to ourselves. How do we dream? Better yet: who are we when we dream?

Translated form the original on The Body Issue, from Vogue Portugal, published March 2022.Full stories and credits on the print issue.

Carolina Queirós By Carolina Queirós

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