Last night I went to the bookstore. These frequent visits are usually some mix of frantic searchings for something entertaining, and relaxed meanderings among the stacks.

Last night was some of each. I hit the magazine rack, photo book section, then the art section. In the art section I started on the left, browsing carefully all the way through and into architecture. But I skipped all the books on fashion. After that I looked at lots of other stuff and eventually left without a purchase.

But I'd completely skipped fashion books. I usually skip fashion. I have absolutely no interest in fashion, history of fashion, specific designers, history of lingerie, or even fashion photography as it relates to clothing.

I am however fascinated by midwestern barns, the Bauhaus school, Raymond Loewy's Studebakers, Berger on art, Dutch architecture, German and Italian design, and to a lesser extent, watercolor technique. The last fashion book that held my interest was something about "Messenger Style," and before that a few books on street style. Seems like bottom-up fashion is more interesting to me than top-down fashion.

Designers have always looked to what people (specific people) wear for "inspiration." Then they add their special touches to take any possible remaining soul from it before selling it back to rich folks who want to be mistaken for street smart. As I'd said back in another post, designer versions of street style are always lame.

I frequently photograph an industrial girl (three of them, actually). "Industrial" in this case means one with a marginalized philosophy of utility, and industrial-apocalyptic expectations of the future. She weaves flat washers into her hair, wears heavy leather boots, and carries a nasty-looking dagger (Arkansas toothpick type for those that care about these things). Her clothes include leather jackets, various chains, black denim pants, shorts and skirts, black logo T-shirts, with some bits of ragged black feminine things underneath. She could dump a motorcycle and leave nothing but sparks and leather dust, or stand off a masher without resorting to that knife. She does not look approachable to any but those familiar with her, and such familiarity is not easily gained.

Couture houses would translate her into patent leather and vinyl, with faux-washers in her hair and chromed plastic, instead of stainless, studs. The edge (and knife) she carries would be lost. In cases such as this, the authentic style when seen through the fashion houses is as seen through a glass, darkly.

Designer emulation of street fashion is only done when the style being copied is strong. Style without statement, i.e. jogging suits, will never be seen on runways outside of Minneapolis or Phoenix. But the strong street styles have been and will be copied from Tokyo to New York. Goth, mod, cyber, drag, rocker, slacker, thrasher, punk.

It's just a shame that the only time most people ever see this stuff is when it gets to a runway, or heaven forbid, a catalog. The real thing is so much more interesting.

-Don