The United Styles of America

Easy does it when Yankee dandies ride toward fashion.

Jack Bettridge
From the Print Edition:
Don Johnson, Mar/Apr 02

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While the movies have given us their share of elaborate costumes, the styles that actually came out of Hollywood were always easy. The movie stars were seen at play in elegant but simple casual wear. Clothes for lounging were the invention of a class of people who wanted to seem at leisure even as they worked hard. And on the silver screen, those who dressed stiff were always consciously portraying just that. Or they were gangsters, trying to seem legitimate in their illegitimacy. The guys we rooted for took it cool and light. Fred Astaire may have danced through countless movies in white tie and tails, but his lasting impression on fashion was made with the sports clothes he wore so effortlessly. Then again, Astaire could make tails seem effortless.

Then America invented the teenager. It started with Andy Hardy and his puckishly flipped-up caps, made its way through the malt shops, prep schools and discotheques, until it was universally recognized that here was an age demographic free to develop its own fashion. The awkward years were no longer awkward as teenagers eschewed both children's clothes and adult garb for their very own look. And the look was typically flippant. Who else could go through life with shirttails out and shoelaces dragging? Even the supposedly straitlaced preppy look was a goof, all layers and draped on sweaters, duck shoes with no socks paired with blazers. When the quintessential teenage generation -- the baby boomers -- grew up wanting to be nonconformists just like all the other guys, they insisted on retaining their easy fashion approach, and we got the business casual look.

And so the distinction blurs between what is work and what is play. "Leisure time in America is big, despite the fact that Europe has more holiday time," observes Nicholls. Americans attack leisure time when they can get it in a whole assortment of outfits meant to telegraph comfort and fun. Hence we have technical fabrics, like Gortex, used as a fashion statement. When we're on actual vacation, out come the clothes that say, "the hell with it": wild T-shirts, shorts and Hawaiian prints, as though we've all just arrived at Disneyland. The clever marketers behind the Tommy Bahama line of tropics wear have touted their company philosophy that "life is one long weekend" by creating the fictional and eponymous Tommy character, who bops through life from one island resort to the next in luxury duds made for playtime.

Neither do Americans care much if their dress is appropriate to what they are doing. Hardy Amies, sometime couturier to the queen of England, once sniffed that he would never make a hacking jacket unless it were actually intended for riding. The American approach is the polar opposite, according to Nicholls. "You wear rugby shirts, but never for rugby." Sometimes the result of such desultory behavior is really quite odd. The button-down shirt, made emblematic of staid business attire by Brooks Brothers, was originally a Brit garment for polo playing (the shirt collar wouldn't flap in your face).

Yet despite the contradictions and anomalies, Nicholls points out, "of all the influential people in the fashion world, almost half the top guys are American. And it will stay that way as long as you don't take it too seriously."

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