Oh the 2000s. When Paris Hilton was a name and reality TV took over. A decade that couldn’t even decide on a name was equally confused about fashion.
Bea and Lee’s views on this unremarkable era in fashion history.
LEE’S TAKE
2001 marked the beginning of the biggest waste of time of my life: a Computer Science degree at Melbourne Uni. In my final year of high school I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, faced with the daunting task of deciding what the hell I wanted to do with my life. The only thing that I was certain of was that I didn’t want to struggle with money, and though it would be nice to study Writing, Film or Fashion, I went down the Good Asian Daughter route and chose a safe, practical course. I was good with computers, so why not. I was excited to make new friends and envisioned a stimulating and drunken uni life filled with parties, protests, pubs and gigs. It somehow did not occur to me that Computer Science would be mostly comprised of people who had few social skills outside of the world of role-playing games. After my first week, I realised that I had to make friends with people in other faculties.
Hippies
My first target were the Arts students, particularly members of the Socialist Alternative, as back then I was filled with self-righteous passion for changing the world. I ditched my blue bootcut jeans and fitted t-shirts for the Arts student standard uniform of old looking skirts over jeans and a wide cloth headband. I stopped wearing Nikes. I ate at the vegan food co-op. I spelled “women” as “womyn”. I stood in front of their posters for longer than a Da Vinci Code nerd with the Mona Lisa in case a cute dreadlocked boy was to come talk to me about how distressing the Tampa affair was. I hovered around their stands multiple times a day hoping one of them would hand me a flyer about a protest and invite me to come to one. However, I was never handed a flyer. I wondered what was so repellent about me. Did they just assume that I wouldn’t be interested? Could they smell that financial security was one of my fundamental values? One time I even mustered up the courage to buy an “Always Was, Always Will Be Aboriginal Land” badge from them but they had no interest in making the usual small talk that occurs during a transaction. Given, my social skills were not any better than the computer nerds I mocked, as I could have started a conversation with them or even gone to a Socialist Alternative meeting. On the other hand, on any given day I was shoved flyers from the Melbourne Uni Chinese Christian Society, Melbourne Uni Overseas Student Society and Asian club nights promoters. I came to the conclusion that I must have looked like an overseas student and the Socialist Alternative locals must have thought that overseas students don’t typically go to Melbourne Uni to fight against social injustice. I labelled the Socialist Alternative hypocritical, racist and judgmental and threw out my badge.
Yuppies
Rejected by the Socialist Alternative, I became less passionate about changing the world. In my second year of uni I targeted the Commerce students instread. The business women of tomorrow were all about labels and carried their books in Review or Satch shopping bags. They either wore ultra low-rise faded blue Sass & Bide jeans with a woven hip belt or distressed boyfriend cut Tsubi jeans with a plain, tight brightly coloured top to show off their slim figures. Sadly, this outfit was accessorised with Ugg boots and Louis Vuitton x Stephen Sprouse inspired graffiti bags. Their makeup and hair were impeccable. It was inspiring to be in a tute with people who took care of themselves, as opposed to the hunchbacked programmers whose beauty routine consisted of wiping their face with KFC wet naps. I poured over Vogue.com.au forums to learn how to dress like the Commerce girls. I quickly learned about the hot fashion designers, which labels were acceptable, and where to source discounted designer gear. I became addicted to eBay and would often spend the whole night watching auctions from the US, waiting to make snipe bids as soon as something was posted or was about to end. Because I had no social life and hated my course, one of the best moments of that year was acquiring a much sought after Marc Jacobs military jacket. As I bought most of my designer clothes from eBay (and built up a debt that took me years to pay off) nothing really fit me well, but it didn’t matter – I was wearing a label. Surely one of fashionistas in my Principles of Management class would compliment my (two sizes too big) Marc Jacobs graffiti jeans or Saba jumper (that made me look pregnant). Taking a cue from the Voguettes, I would justify paying $300 for a pair of jeans because “it would last longer” (and no, it didn’t) and the “the distressing was done by hand and is one of a kind”.
Individualism
The other lesson I gathered from the Voguettes was to dress like an individual. Don’t be afraid to mix vintage with designer. And god forbid you be seen in the same Sportsgirl top that a thousand other women have. I asked if Target clothes from the 90s were considered “vintage” and if they were acceptable to mix with Alannah Hill. Nobody replied. So I delved into the world of vintage – something I was hesitant to do for long time because the thought of wearing something that someone may have died in or just had bad luck in put me off. I was afraid that the clothes would be possessed by the spirits of the previous owners. I could not bring myself to bid on a second hand jacket once because whenever I looked at it my chest tightened and I felt like I was suffocating, but actually, that was probably my mind trying to physically control my rising debt.
I took dressing like an individual to an extreme by selecting clothes because of its uniqueness, not beauty. For two years I wore a jacket that was made from a black and red crochet granny blanket. It had huge bell sleeves that I had to fold up five times because they were so long. The sales woman said it looked cute on me even though I looked like a fat ladybug, but since I was so desperate to please and make friends I bought it. At least it was long enough to cover up my bum crack revealing $300 jeans.
BEA’S TAKE
Mike and the Mechanics once theorised in song that every decade hangs shit on the one before it. Hang on, was that the lyric? Imperfect memory and subjective bias aside, was the first decade of this century, often known as the noughties, a bad one for personal style or what? I think it was. Let’s revisit the dominant sartorial tribes of the period.
Corporate Greige
The “I’m hiding something but you’re going to have to wait until 2008 to find out what” look. Quietly luxurious, adult and self possessed, the Corporate Greiger almost had you convinced that only morons held socialist beliefs after 30. Joining their tribe meant getting real. Until the GFC.
White Trash
Trucker caps, Von Dutch, Ed Hardy, ugg boots, pubic bone revealing low rise jeans and velour tracksuits. In the noughties the outer suburbs fought back against elitist assumptions that they had nothing to contribute to the rarefied world of international fashion. It was like Revenge of the Jocks. Smug pricks like Zuckerberg were taking over the world and the white trash were ready to paint the town red with a bucket of pig blood. WAGs and their sporting appendages played the ceremonial role of prom kings and queens, inspiring their followers. In a sad and unexpected way, this was probably the closest the noughties got to witty, subversive or punk dressing. Think about it, who said ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think’ better than Jordan and Peter Andre? Who else rejected the new imposed norms of quiet refinement eco-friendly fabrics and contrived intellectualism?
Bling, or ‘Bling-Bling’
Bling: Jamaican slang taken up by African American rappers and hip hop artists to describe the glittering allure of conspicuous jewellery, particularly diamonds.
Hey it makes sense that if you manage to break through generations of systemic racism and oppression and find a way to accumulate massive amounts of coin it would feel nice to display that triumph on your person. Blingy dressing exhibits the opposite tendency of Stealth Wealthers who have been hoarding cash and assets for generations and don’t want any questions or heat about it. To deter conflict or getting egged in the street the Stealth Wealthers do this modest conservative thing with their clothes. Like the British royal family for example, they only bring the bling out for state occasions where there’s a lot of militia around.
Of course the term bling and it’s associated flashy look spread way beyond it’s early champions, and soon everyone was getting their bling on. Even young professionals were referring to their engagement rings as “a bit of bling”. By this time bling was as dead a trend as a billion year old bit of carbon.
Rabid Eclecticism
Eclecticism and piling shit on shit was big in the noughties. Magazines loved it because it was a good way for them to keep lots of different advertisers happy at once. They usually called the look “boho-luxe” because it often involved wearing a kaftan that cost two grand with a pile of bejewelled bangles and various other accountrements. The eclectic look reached its apotheosis in stylist Patricia Field and that show she worked on, Sex and the City.
With great attention to economic realism, Field styled newspaper columnist Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) with a walk in closet of designer gear and strappy Manolos. Carrie was kooky, and her style was messed up, but in a high end way. Some of Carrie’s iconic and oft copied looks included narcissistic name necklaces, over-sized Georgia O’Keeffe inspired corsages and strappy sandals. All worn at once. If I owned a department store or edited a magazine in the noughties I would have licked the flesh in between SJPs Manolo straps. “Wow, just by being cute and wacky, you’ve made my job so easy!”
Hipster Dudes and Twee Girls
In the noughties the cool crowd who sneered at Sex and the City continued to work their alternative look of appropriating/revisiting the 1960s through 70s wholesale and without irony. They walked around as living proof that their parents had a cooler, more original and more exciting heyday than they ever would. When coupled as a hetero pair, the Hipster Dude and Twee Girl followed their own special mating rituals. The sensitive hipster boys took on the contraceptive role in relationships by wearing really skinny jeans. Twee Girls showed their appreciation for not having to stuff their bodies with artificial hormones by greeting their boys at the door with a home made elder flower cordial and wearing nothing but a home made smock, black stockings and school brogues.
Holly Hobbie and her Bearded Boyfriend are still going strong in the current decade, and who could blame them? The lure of op-shops, not shaving and the beatnik aesthetic is just too damn strong. This is not so much a bad look as one that could use an injection of inventiveness. And to the jaded, pomo schooled nihilist who thinks we have reached the end of aesthetic history, I say keep trying.
Well that’s about it. I hope I’ve convinced you that the mantle for ‘the decade that style forgot’ really needs to shift from the 1980s to our more recent litter of 10. One thing’s for sure, if I get invited to a noughties party I won’t be going as a Lehman Brother, or Usher, not SJP or Zooey Deschanel. Hell no. I’ll be going as Kevin Federline. At least then I can hold my head up and say I am the only noughties character in the room who really stuck it to the man back in the day.
Fashion Frauds 