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Style
Thursday, January 26, 2017 — 5A
The Chanel Effect: Why I
still love Karl Lagerfeld
Label’s latest Paris Couture show reminds us that innovation
isn’t the only way to win the heart of the fashion industry
It’s Paris Couture Week.
Twice a year, once in February
and again in July, the city of
love is enveloped in a world of
hand-embroidered,
expertly
hairsprayed fantasy. Few know
the world of one-of-a-kind design
better than Karl Lagerfeld. He’s
been around the bend of fashion’s
greatest stages time and time
again. He’s designed for the likes of
Balmain and Chloé, and currently
serves as the creative director
Fendi and his own eponymous
label. Why, then, when we hear his
name, do we only think of Chanel?
It’s Chanel. The interlocked
pair of C’s on a quilted, chain-
linked bag. The one name in
fashion
known
by
everyone
before us that will likely remain
in ubiquity for the next century.
I don’t give a shit if we have seen
that same tweed suit from Karl
before — it’s Chanel, for god’s sake.
In a perfect world, legacy
wouldn’t be a determining factor
in
the
what’s-hot-what’s-not
debate. Yet Donald Trump is
president, and climate change
is real. By all means, then, is it
entirely valid to love a brand for
its name.
To be grounded in such a lasting
heritage, something great must
have happened at the hands of its
inheritor at one point or another.
When Karl took the helm at Chanel
in 1983, the German mastermind
began cranking out controversial
collections like it was his job (to
be fair, it was). When the ‘90s
rolled around, his taste grew ever
more
objectionable.
High-rise
bodysuits emblazoned with that
omnipresent double-C paraded
down his runway alongside suits
reminiscent of the matador’s traje
de luces. As I recount his bold past
in writing, everything sounds too
good to have been true (there is
nothing I would prefer than to
see a new generation of Cindy
Crawfords prance across the Paris
stage in nothing but a hot pink
Chanel bikini). In the 21st century,
Karl appears to have focused his
energy on paying homage to his
lone successor, an act that has
become predictable after seasons
of relative redundancy.
Karl’s 68th couture collection
for the house debuted this past
Tuesday. Even before viewing
the photo gallery on nowfashion.
com, I knew this season’s work
would
be
predictably
frothy
and frilly, accompanied by some
characteristically
enchanting
background, but I still counted
down the minutes until I could
escape my social science class and
devour the photos on a “bathroom
break.”
Look one: A tweed skirt suit
in a subdued shade of green,
accented by a black pussybow at
the neck and a chunky silver belt
at the midsection. Skirt suit after
skirt suit, tweed after tweed,
pastel after pastel, ruffle after
ruffle. Soon, fully-sequined ball
gowns were added into the mix,
not without a generous spray
of feathers. Spokesmodel Lily
Rose-Depp closed out the show
in a gargantuan pink pastry of a
number. Utterly typical, and yet, I
drooled over every last detail.
That’s just the Chanel Effect.
You may not like it, but you still
have to love it.
CHANEL
Chanel’s latest show for Paris Couture Week
TESS GARCIA
Senior Arts Editor
Fred’s makes its return
The empty storefront startled
me. I didn’t know how to
interpret the sign on the door
that read: “Working hard on
getting reopened and will be
seeing you all so soon.” It was so
vague. It was early fall, and I was
not taking Fred’s disappearance
well — being told I couldn’t
have it only made me want it
more. I checked their Instagram
(@Fredslol) with regularity and
impatiently waited for word of
reopening. When news of their
January relaunch finally arrived, I
was elated.
The old Fred’s was a charming,
shoebox-sized café tucked away
on South U. The sunny California
vibe inside was a rupture from
gray of the street. The aesthetic
was trendy, but it wasn’t trying too
hard — it was small and cramped,
but clean and white.
The new space is similarly cute,
yet different.
When I entered, it was clear
that the place was far from its
humble beginnings. The new
place gobbled up the old one:
It’s sprawling. Every inch
was packed. I opened the
door straight to a line. What’s
more, the place was bustling. The
energy was palpable. Waiters were
zipping around, swapping trays
of avocado toast for beautifully
illustrated number cards.
I have to confess, I despise
nearly every variety of vegetable.
However, every January, after
the onslaught of “clean eating”
content, I think to myself: “Maybe
I do like healthy food, maybe it’s
not that bad.” Unfortunately, that
message never sticks. Salad just
does not excite me the way a plate
of fries does. However, despite my
distaste for superfoods, at Fred’s
I cannot help but exchange green
for greens. Turns out, all I need to
get excited is a pretty presentation
— and in that regard, Fred’s excels.
The food styling is next level where
every single item on the menu has
its custumors reaching for their
phone. You’d be hard pressed to
find a dish that is not vibrant and
multi-hued.
Arguably, even more beautiful
than the food is the café itself; it
is spacious, light and the décor
evokes a very West Coast x
Marrekesh vibe. Long gone are
the days of the hallway-sized café.
Unlike before, where the only
seating was a cramped counter,
the renovated space now has
room for dining. Alternatively,
you can lounge on the plush steel
blue couch while drinking a latte
from the coffee bar. If you’re into
healthy food that doesn’t taste like
sawdust, or you’re just into taking
photos of your food (no judgment),
it’s worth the trip. Fred’s perfectly
satisfies the gap in the market for
reasonably priced, casual, clean,
aesthetically pleasing food and
is overall a great new (well, half
new) addition to the Ann
Arbor food scene.
TESS TOBIN
Daily Arts Writer
An ode to the late-night snack
It’s a little after 11 p.m.,
and you just got home from
the library, a late meeting or
somewhere or other. You likely
ate dinner four or five hours
ago.
Your
stomach
growls,
reminding you of the stretch of
time that has elapsed. Perhaps
you could snack on a bag of
Goldfish or munch on an apple.
Neither really fill you up or hit
the spot, but they’ll do in the
moment –– until
you get in bed and
find yourself already
thinking
about
breakfast.
Maybe
this
isn’t you at all. It’s
possibly
just
me
rambling about my
late-night
eating
habits
(admittedly
unbefitting someone
who loves a good
meal as much as I
do). But it makes me
wonder: What is it
about that chunk of
time between the sun setting
and our bodies following suit
that makes food a salient,
nagging thought surfacing in
our minds?
Though
termed
the
“midnight
snack,”
late-
night eating can roughly be
considered
eating
anything
after our last meal of the day
and anything before our first.
It can take various forms, be
shared with others or alone
and usually creeps up on us
in the form of a some random
craving. Akin to the midnight
snack is the drunk food, a
similarly spontaneous act of
eating anything to satisfy us in
the moment.
While most people carefully
devise and prepare their daily
meals (taken to the extreme by
myself) –– a habit inherently
hinged
upon
concern
for
sustaining our health and well-
being –– there’s rarely, if ever,
pause or a plan of action that
motivates our decisive instinct
to consume a late-night snack.
It’s a moment of complete,
uninhibited consumption that
encapsulates
the
frequently
evasive
feeling
of
total
freedom.
I say run with
that freedom. How
often
throughout
the day do we get
to act with reckless
abandon? How often
do we act with such
carelessness,
such
aimless gusto? Our
limited
energy
is
channeled
towards
so
many
other
demands that drain
us of our ability to scrutinize
even the most trivial of matters
that the brief moment in which
we act upon our hunger without
thinking twice resolves any
other nagging thoughts in our
minds. Though on a small scale,
the indulgence of a satiating
impromptu snack seems like
a blip on our daily radar, it’s
much more than that.
Our society doesn’t reward
action without thought, and
under most circumstances, it
shouldn’t.
But
momentarily
freeing ourselves from the
chains of arbitrary, everyday
choices can be a psychological
deep breath –– a moment of
peace.
Whatever
prompts
us
to
fill
our
stomachs
and
ease our minds, be it a dull,
persistent hunger or an aching
restlessness,
we
seek
out
comfort in food. And a late-
night snack is the epitome of
a quick, comforting treat that
doesn’t require much effort or
time to attain.
With that, I’ll leave you with
three of my favorite late night
snacks: the beautifully random
concoctions of edible respites
I find comfort in on any given
night.
A bowl of cereal
I know, I know: “Seriously?”
Yes, seriously. It’s cheap and
easy. I throw in nuts, chocolate
chips, coconut flakes, almond
butter; replace dairy milk with
almond milk or yogurt or cereal
with granola. The options are
endless, easy and satisfying.
Ricotta toast
Sounds fancy, right? Well,
it’s not. It’s an airy, subtly
tangy cheese (for under $3 at
most grocery stores) slathered
on crisp toasted bread and can
be assembled in under five
minutes. If you really want to
throw caution to the wind, top
it with sliced fruit, honey, seeds
or whatever. It’s a blank slate
for your most foolhardy culinary
ambitions. The less thought you put
into it the better and tastier.
DIY Trail Mix
AKA a crazy person’s bag of
snacks. Combine pretzels, goldfish,
peanuts, or anything in your snack
cabinet with a crunch, and toss
together. The pleasing variety
and gratifying textures are a true
testament to what can be done with
an offhand spurt of creativity and
bold indifference.
SHIR
Avinadav
Food
Columnist
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Industry must adapt to pressing environmental concerns
UNSPLASH
Snacks are great.
FOOD COLUMN
RESTAURANTS
STYLE NOTEBOOK
Fashion’s great obligation
“Buy less and buy better” —
that’s what we’re told. In that
cliché
narrative,
consumers
are the primary targets of
activists
focused
on
the
fashion industry’s devastating
environmental
effects
and
inhumane
treatment
of
workers. The fashion industry
has cultivated the idea that
consumers
hold
the
true
power
in
determining
the
market’s interaction with the
environment. If we choose
to
buy
more
exclusively
responsible,
recycled
and
reused clothing, then fashion
corporations will be forced to
change their wasteful ways and
cater to an ecological demand.
Current clothing production
and distribution poses a myriad
of all too real problems, from
the use of non-biodegradable
material,
rampant
environmental pollution and
exhaustion of fossil fuels and
freshwater, all to produce over
80 billion pieces of clothing a
year. “Fast fashion” simply isn’t
sustainable.
But despite the warnings
and begging of activists, we
continue to gorge ourselves
shirt by shirt, breathlessly
hoping to keep up, be stylish,
full steam ahead.
Perhaps
the
relationship
between the fashion industry
and
our
environment
is
infinitely
more
complex
than our typical branding of
the consumer populus, with
responsibility
for
creating
an ecological demand. The
decision to shop ecologically
could have much less to do
with the individual consumer
decision and more so with
the powerhouses of modern
fashion mandating wear of the
newest pieces and ideas. The
worth of any item of clothing
has been reconfigured — now
lying in its momentary and
cheap
trendsetting
ability.
Rather than a quality and fair
trade make in a U.S. warehouse,
production is often outsourced
to an illegal one in Bangladesh.
As the excess builds up, it is
becoming painfully clear the
fashion corporations we hold
in such high regard have an
imminent moral responsibility
to
actively
implement
sustainable practices for the
future of fashion and, more
pressingly, our environment. In
cooperation with the everyday
individual’s effort to consume
less conspicuously, there is too
much potential for corporate
change. Companies like Eileen
Fisher, Ralph Lauren and Stella
McCartney have demonstrated
the potential of an ecological
business model and set in
motion
a
wiser
consumer
impression of what is trendy,
desirable
and
ultimately
necessary. The company’s
market
highly
regarded
collections of fairly sourced
and
constructed
clothing,
encouraging
the
spread
of
sustainable fashion. Through
closed
loop
technology,
clothing
can
be
carefully
broken down for textile reuse.
Similarly, Swedish engineers
recently released a garment
made
from
100
percent
recycled cotton. For worldwide
clothing names to implement
these practices would both
engage
the
impressionable
public and encourage a far-
reaching
implementation
of
environmental production.
So for now, keep thrifting,
re-wearing,
shopping
smart and handing in your
unwanted clothes to recycling
collections. You never know,
the
material
from
those
unwanted clothes could walk
the runways of Valentino in its
next life.
SARAH AGNONE
Daily Arts Writer
Despite the
warnings and
begging of
activists, we
continue to gorge
ourselves shirt by
shirt, breathlessly
hoping to keep up