Sunday, Jul 6, 2008
If 2000 is any indicator, 21st century style is going to be all about showing skin -- and it doesn't even have to be your own.
Oct 19, 2000 | You wouldn't know it from looking at my wardrobe, but I love to read fashion magazines. They're my escape from reality. But lately, I've been avoiding my beloved Vogue because, inevitably, I come across a picture of some woman sheathed in reptile skins. I just can't seem to escape that Calvin Klein ad featuring a lissome brunet model wearing a dark brown skirt made of crocodile hide. Eww. All my girlie squeamishness comes up when I see that picture, but nothing makes my skin crawl more than contemplating clothes resembling snakeskin.
Now, I'm tolerant of spiders, rats and smelly dogs. Hell, I've even kissed a few frogs, but I know I'm not the only woman who shivers with revulsion at the thought of touching a snake. I don't suffer from ophidiophobia, but I'm sure many people do, especially women. Visit any zoo's snake house or pet store selling snakes and you'll find women walking around, shoulders hunched around their ears, noses wrinkled in pained disdain for the slithering creatures kept in those glass cases.
So I'm mystified as to why so many women actually want to wear clothing resembling snakeskin. Yet snakeskin has been printed on every imaginable surface this year -- pants, dresses, shoes, blouses, belts and jackets. I blame Gucci's Tom Ford. Not only did he introduce the python print on several dresses and pantsuits during his spring 2000 fashion show in September 1999, but he also prominently featured a python-printed halter dress in his spring 2000 campaign.
Soon fashion groupies like Gwyneth Paltrow and Cate Blanchett made public appearances in the dress and generated attention from the press. Now it seems like every size 0 starlet has tripped down a red carpet in stiletto heals wearing python-printed leather or pleather. It's disturbing. I'm reminded of an old cartoon gag featuring a zany skeleton chasing some desperate animal for its skin.
The masses have followed the starlets' example. This summer I noticed dozens and dozens of young women clad in faux python skin. I haven't seen so many walking snakes since my mother confiscated my video of the 1973 horror movie "Sssssss" -- the film in which Strother Martin transforms Dirk Benedict into a snake so that he can use him in a freak show (a career move Mickey Rourke might consider).
I've been pondering the deeper meaning of the snakeskin trend ever since I bolted from an ascending elevator to avoid riding 16 floors with a woman wearing a python-print skirt. I believe that fashion's embrace of snakeskin and other reptilian patterns is more than just a celebration of the tacky or outré. Therefore I've simultaneously channeled the spirits of fashion maven Diana Vreeland and anthropologist Margaret Mead to help me analyze the snakeskin-print trend.
Could it be that snakeskin fashion reflects a yearning for natural or ancestral covering in reaction to our increasingly techno-dominated culture? The snakeskin dress is just another manifestation of the "modern primitive" aesthetic in mainstream consciousness. Remember the vogue for tribal tattoos and piercings in the early '90s? Maybe 21st century style is all about skin -- and it doesn't even have to be your own.
Fashion has heartily embraced fur, leather and other nontraditional, or even non-p.c., textiles. This year designers have displayed clothing trimmed with the skins of sheep, foxes and bears as well as reptiles. Under the guise of "retro" dressing, fashion editors are exhorting readers to "Think Mink!" The nostalgia trend is real, but with snakeskin, it seems as if we're longing for a period of time dictated by the sensibility of Cro-Magnon, not Christian Dior.
If the modern primitive aesthetic is really behind the skin trend, then something's getting lost in the translation to modern wear. Our ancestors wore animal skins for more reasons than just to keep warm. Legend has it that they also used skin to commune with the dead animal's spirit and channel its power to achieve a specific objective. Whether the animal's skin served a totemic purpose or provided a way to honor a vanquished adversary, "primitive" people were conscious of their motives and desires in ways that we are not.
Unlike our ancestors, we are no longer interested in the skin itself. We just want the skin's pattern. Writers at In Style, Vogue and Harper's Bazaar have all cited the python print as an example of technology's ability to realistically integrate the patterns and textures of the natural world. Wearing plastic pants printed with snakeskin texture is postmodern dressing at its most "transgressive," they've declared.
By using technology to mimic the texture of a snake's skin and imprinting that facsimile on a fabric like silk or linen, we've found a way to both distance ourselves from nature and continue to covet it. Perhaps that's what creeps me out about these clothes. We no longer have to put up with the roughness of actual snakeskin in order to enjoy its beauty. The natural world has been divorced from reality, and mass-market advertising says this is a good, even desirable, outcome.
Photos of Sarah Michelle Gellar wearing baby blue python-printed pants remind me of the film "Blade Runner," which was based on sci-fi writer Philip K. Dick's dystopian novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" Ridley Scott's film immersed us in an environmentally wrecked world populated by people who can enjoy only simulated flora and fauna, never the real thing. Is it a coincidence that a fake snake's scale, bioengineered in a biotechnology swap meet, is the main clue that helps bounty hunter Deckard (Harrison Ford) locate the remaining renegade androids? Does donning plastic snakeskin mean we're just one stiletto step away from a similar world populated by fashionable androids and electric snakes?
Perversely, I also see the popularity of the snakeskin pattern as a positive trend, despite my distaste for snakes. Studying Wicca -- a relatively new pagan religion based largely on symbols, seasonal rituals and deities derived from ancient Celtic societies -- and other feminist spirituality movements has taught me to respect the slithery creatures. It's not accidental that the python print dominates solely women's fashion. I don't think we'll see snakeskin neckties or rompers anytime soon.
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