Many years ago I innocently employed the adjective “phenomenal” in a story I had written, and someone whose writing I admired took me to task for the usage: “Phenomenal is a pretty powerful word,” he pointed out. “Did you really mean to compare what you were writing about to a true phenomenon?” Likely I didn’t do much more than shrug, but clearly the point stuck with me: to not be so cavalier in my descriptions, to think about the inherent intensity of certain words and therefore to use them accordingly.
With the awards season now wrapped up, I’m reminded of this lesson because of the word, so integral to fashion vernacular, that at such events gets tossed around with abandon: icon. Inevitably during breathless red-carpet reportage, more than one TV correspondent will ask “How does it feel to be a style icon?” a question that makes me eager to grab the microphone and rap the offender on his or her head. Aside from the fact that it’s debatable whether any genuine style icons are living today, how does one even answer such a question, no matter whether or not they agree the appellation is fitting?
Grace Kelly (above in a publicity still from
Rear Window) was/is a style icon. Nicole Kidman is not. Audrey Hepburn, yes; Mary Kate and/or Ashley Olsen, not so much. For one to be accurately deemed an icon, she not only should be easily identified for a unique, discernable style and an active influence upon fashion, but the very definition of the word demands that this be proven by the passage of time. And yet for some reason in recent years we are so quick to apply “icon” to anyone who’s managed to gain a little fame and is lucky enough to secure a good stylist. I am reminded of Mischa Barton at the height of her
O.C. fame, when someone on a red carpet asked her how it felt to be a style icon. Kudos to Barton for replying, “I don’t know that I’m an icon; I mean, I’m only 19.” Given that Mischa isn’t exactly dominating pop culture or red carpets at the moment, I wonder if that same reporter would be so quick to call her an icon today.
I realize this is all subjective, and admittedly this is only my opinion. For example, I don’t know that I would term Sarah Jessica Parker a style icon, a statement that is sure to make many a fashionista's head want to explode. Ask me 20 years from now, and perhaps you and I both will have different opinions on the matter. After all, Audrey Hepburn starred in
Roman Holiday in 1953 and in
Funny Face (above) in 1957, but it wasn’t until the ’60s, in films like
Charade and
How to Steal a Million, that her close friendship and collaboration with Hubert de Givenchy was so entrenched in the mainstream that it spawned tongue-in-cheek references (“For one thing, it gives Givenchy a night off,” remarks Peter O’Toole in a
How to Steal scene).
If you backed me into a corner, I’d say there is one woman today who comes close to being termed a style icon, and that’s Michelle Obama. I wasn’t willing to jump on the bandwagon when, pre-election, comparisons already were being made between Mrs. O and Jacqueline Kennedy; I mean, c’mon, that is one huge pillbox hat to fill. But I’m completely besotted by the style choices Mrs. O has made since her husband took office, from the Isabel Toledo and Jason Wu worn on Inauguration Day (the latter’s gown was donated to the Smithsonian in a ceremony on Tuesday,
above) to subsequent picks ranging from Naeem Khan to Prabal Gurung (it's his dress she's wearing above next to Wu and his gown) and, yes, the occasional J. Crew that must have that company dancing with glee over her everywoman intentions. I’m hoping she continues in this direction of both spotlighting designers who don’t necessarily leap foremost in your mind and mixing upper-tier labels with Middle America retail. Even so, is she an icon yet? Sorry, I’m not ready. But time will indeed tell.
To add a timely aspect to this blog entry -- and because I'll look for any excuse to feature a spectacular shoe -- I'm also including a current style from Frisoni's Spring/Summer 2010 haute-couture collection for Vivier, the Unicorn shoe, a feathered divinity you're more inclined to put on a shelf and admire than ever dream of wearing. The height of artful fashion, after all, should come with an air of unattainability, shouldn't it? I'm sure Dovima would approve.
