A label by any other name
Labels have a bad reputation. As the oversized shiny manifestations of our oh-so-insatiable consumer appetites, they reek of the fashion depraved. Metallic slogans slapped on buttocks, plastic rip-offs on Bangkok sidewalks and horror of horrors, the corruption of real design aesthetics. All this and more is implied beneath many a fashionista’s breath as he/she announces “I don’t do labels”. This is often followed with a virtuous commitment to a) vintage “so authentic” or b) Target “good cheap basics”.
I don’t disagree with the former sentiments. However, it’s also important to distinguish between ‘labels’ and ‘brands’. Labels are simply a way of naming and categorising garments and merchandise belonging to a particular fashion house. Labelling is part of a brand, but certainly not the sole devil-horned part. A label can be written in a multitude of ways, sewn discreetly on inside seams or blazened across busty chests. Big, small, colourful or weird, a label is simply a visual cue to help us distinguish one (sometimes disturbingly similar) garment from another.
A ‘brand’ on the other hand is the bloated offspring of polished marketing moguls, corporate communicators and other types of spin doctors, sitting in luxury corporate fashion offices from Milan to LA. A (capital B) ‘Brand’ is the word the mogul gives to the part of you that they are intent on possessing. The way you feel about a particular type of clothing is likely a swirly cocktail of your own experiences and the tasty marketing treats created just for you (well, your ‘type’).
It’s why I can’t stand Guess. I’m completely ignorant about the very successful American fashion house, but I am familiar with its slick ads populated by brown, grumpy-faced, hungry models. I also know (and avoid) their shiny white stores and their well-calculated mix of bass-heavy dance music and too-cool sales staff wearing denim and crystal. It’s safe to say I am not ‘a Guess girl’. And, to be fair, I am pretty confident that Guess does not want me. I’m not their ‘type’. I am too old, too conservative and possibly too pale.
Not that those aforementioned hunchbacked evil professors of ‘the Brand’ make a habit of neglecting poor, pale old me. Au contraire, they mutilate their existing products to a fittingly deformed version that I will like. Cleverly, the bizarro brand of clothing is packaged under a different name. For example, the ‘Just Group’ owns Portmans, Jaquie E, Jay Jays, Just Jeans, Peter Alexander and Dotti. It means that there is a ‘brand’ for everyone. Pick your type. You’ll know which one it is because they’ll be playing your music and you will become like a child stumbling blithely after a pied piper. Powerless to resist.
I like Oscar De La Renta. The dresses have simple cuts that are unerringly befitting of the female form, they have waists and plenty of colour. But I admit, I discovered Oscar first when watching a Sex and the City episode. It was a clever marketing person who positioned that dress on that character for that defining scene. If not, it was a lucky win for the Oscar spin doctor. Girls everywhere sighed, not sure whether it was the dress or the male lead or glamorous New York making them tingle. All they knew was that they ‘likee very much’ and from that moment, the Oscar De La Renta brand would forever tenderly hold hands with their inner romantic. No, I can’t afford to buy Oscar dresses; but if I ever require a very beautiful dress for a very fancy occasion, in New York, of course, I’m convinced that’s exactly the right thing for me.
It is difficult to think of something personal like fashion as being anything but a product of your own independent tastes, but it is worth considering next time you dismiss a luxury ‘label’ in favour of Target. After all, ‘good cheap basics’ is exactly what their spin doctor wants you to think. The real question is, are you fond of their clothes or their brand?
