Barney's and the '80s attitude
The bankruptcy of Barney's sparked memories of its inimitable glamour, an aura that hugged '80s New York like a charmeuse bustier. The flagship Madison Ave. store is said to be spared, but that's what they said about Lord and Taylor, before its owners reneged and turned the landmark building into a WeWork.
In those years, I'd fly in to spend a weekend with a girlfriend, Nan—just over an hour's journey, but a world away from Tommy Tippee cups and kids' theatre. We'd stay up talking till all hours, then rise mid-morning to shop until our consciences or credit limits prevailed.
At Barney's, we always bought something matching: the store's "Route du Thé" fragrance; a top from the Coop section. Sometimes we splurged, but we expected to wear those clothes for years.
I recalled my things from there (and more often, the relatively affordable Bloomingdale's). A feature in the New York Magazine's August '82 issue (by Anna Wintour) reminded me of the look:
Left: Wool greatcoat and wool-gabardine jumpsuit; Jean-Paul Gaultier.
Top right: Grey shetland-wool coat; ecru silk shirt; Kenzo.
Bottom right: Wool poncho with blue stripe over matching tube dress; Karl Lagerfeld for Chloé.
I noticed how much looser the cuts were: trousers with ease in the thigh, coats ample enough for a jacket under, knits neat, but with a bit of swing. Damn, those clothes looked comfortable. OK, maybe not the giant shoulder pads, but don't you miss cuts that accommodated gaining or losing a bit of weight, that had functional pockets and proper tailoring, such as French seams?
Judging from the vintage pieces on resale sites,'80s and '90s luxury ready-to-wear has held up well—better than their designers, who are now retired (Gaultier, Kenzo) or in the heavenly atelier (Lagerfeld).
Today's designer pieces are generally shorter, tighter, more embellished. If you look, you can buy pieces with similar ease, but serious tailoring is harder to find than a disco ball.
Left: MaxMara belted red cashmere poncho. Price, about $2, 780.
Centre: Marni belted wool-twill pants. Price, $950.
Right: Chloé camel wool/poly camel coat. Price, about $1, 600.
But some things never change: couldn't afford those labels in the '80s, can't now! A few more reasonable alternatives, that still channel the era's ease and construction.
Left: Mackage Elodie double-breasted wool/cashmere coat; price, $850.
Upper right: I have to show the back collar detail on this coat, it's sublime!
Bottom right: Brora wool crepe wide-leg trousers; price, £195.
If there's one major change I see in retail, it's that we have become accustomed to minimalist clothing, once the province of a handful of designers like Calvin Klein, Ronaldus Shamask and Zoran. Today, every price point offers unstructured choices, which is not necessarily a boon when the clothes are made to last about as long as an egg cream.
Today's high-end minimalists offer innovative fabrics (Eileen Fisher's washable wool crepe is a standout). These pieces are washable, something you could not count on four decades ago:
Left: Toast cottton twill coat; price $360
Top right: Garnet Hill 100% cashmere ruana; price, about $300
Bottom right: Everlane silk tie-cuff shirt; price, $110
E-commerce is named as Barney's bane, but even before that competition, the store was size-discriminatory. Simon Doonan says that when he was creative director, women size 12 or larger thronged the accessory counters because the store offered no clothes in their sizes. (He did not approve.)
I have but one souvenir of those days, a periwinkle silk chiffon scarf, a reminder that even in its heyday, Barney's was a rarified retailer who catered to equally rarified customers.
In those years, I'd fly in to spend a weekend with a girlfriend, Nan—just over an hour's journey, but a world away from Tommy Tippee cups and kids' theatre. We'd stay up talking till all hours, then rise mid-morning to shop until our consciences or credit limits prevailed.
At Barney's, we always bought something matching: the store's "Route du Thé" fragrance; a top from the Coop section. Sometimes we splurged, but we expected to wear those clothes for years.
I recalled my things from there (and more often, the relatively affordable Bloomingdale's). A feature in the New York Magazine's August '82 issue (by Anna Wintour) reminded me of the look:
Left: Wool greatcoat and wool-gabardine jumpsuit; Jean-Paul Gaultier.
Top right: Grey shetland-wool coat; ecru silk shirt; Kenzo.
Bottom right: Wool poncho with blue stripe over matching tube dress; Karl Lagerfeld for Chloé.
I noticed how much looser the cuts were: trousers with ease in the thigh, coats ample enough for a jacket under, knits neat, but with a bit of swing. Damn, those clothes looked comfortable. OK, maybe not the giant shoulder pads, but don't you miss cuts that accommodated gaining or losing a bit of weight, that had functional pockets and proper tailoring, such as French seams?
Judging from the vintage pieces on resale sites,'80s and '90s luxury ready-to-wear has held up well—better than their designers, who are now retired (Gaultier, Kenzo) or in the heavenly atelier (Lagerfeld).
Today's designer pieces are generally shorter, tighter, more embellished. If you look, you can buy pieces with similar ease, but serious tailoring is harder to find than a disco ball.
Left: MaxMara belted red cashmere poncho. Price, about $2, 780.
Centre: Marni belted wool-twill pants. Price, $950.
Right: Chloé camel wool/poly camel coat. Price, about $1, 600.
But some things never change: couldn't afford those labels in the '80s, can't now! A few more reasonable alternatives, that still channel the era's ease and construction.
Left: Mackage Elodie double-breasted wool/cashmere coat; price, $850.
Upper right: I have to show the back collar detail on this coat, it's sublime!
Bottom right: Brora wool crepe wide-leg trousers; price, £195.
If there's one major change I see in retail, it's that we have become accustomed to minimalist clothing, once the province of a handful of designers like Calvin Klein, Ronaldus Shamask and Zoran. Today, every price point offers unstructured choices, which is not necessarily a boon when the clothes are made to last about as long as an egg cream.
Today's high-end minimalists offer innovative fabrics (Eileen Fisher's washable wool crepe is a standout). These pieces are washable, something you could not count on four decades ago:
Left: Toast cottton twill coat; price $360
Top right: Garnet Hill 100% cashmere ruana; price, about $300
Bottom right: Everlane silk tie-cuff shirt; price, $110
E-commerce is named as Barney's bane, but even before that competition, the store was size-discriminatory. Simon Doonan says that when he was creative director, women size 12 or larger thronged the accessory counters because the store offered no clothes in their sizes. (He did not approve.)
I have but one souvenir of those days, a periwinkle silk chiffon scarf, a reminder that even in its heyday, Barney's was a rarified retailer who catered to equally rarified customers.
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