'Youthquake' strikes
Long before Diana Vreeland proclaimed the "Youthquake" in the
pages of Vogue, American teenagers had already adopted
egalitarian uniforms of blue jeans and oversize sweaters. For a
while during the early 1960s, a new, young first lady seemed to
bridge the widening gap between the generations. Equally at
home in sportswear and in couture-inspired evening gowns, the
impeccably elegant Jacqueline Kennedy represented the ideal
American woman, just as President Kennedy formed a striking
contrast to the Soviet leader in his ill-fitting suits.
But the reign of the aristocrat as Democrat was only an
interlude before the biggest and most explosive anti-fashion
movement in history. More than any other decade of the
20th Century, the '60s changed the way people dress -- or
don't dress -- all over the world. The generation that came of
age during that period, armed with its own brand of popular
culture, rejected the artificiality and propriety of adult
appearance altogether.
The "Youthquake" of the early '60s, with London at its epicenter,
found expression in inexpensive ready-to-wear fashions that
celebrated freedom, and its spirit was best captured by the
teen-age model "Twiggy," whose fragile beauty was not so much
childlike as it was otherworldly. The simple shapes and sharp
edges of London's Mod minidresses, refined by the couturier
André Courrèges, became the "Space Age" look of
the mid-'60s. White minis, pantsuits and jumpsuits, short
geometric haircuts, as well as metallic accessories and
cosmetics, reflected a general enthusiasm for the future that
went beyond interest in the Space Race.
'Anti-fashion'
But by the time of the moon landing at the decade's end, this
enthusiasm had all but disappeared, and so had the traditional
concept of fashion. The younger generation had veered from
Futurism to a willful Primitivism, adopting politically correct
tribal uniforms of proletarian blue jeans, subverted military
surplus gear and all manner of "ethnic" styles inspired by the
costume of Native Americans, Eastern Europeans and the
peoples of the Indian subcontinent that challenged the West's
assumptions of cultural superiority.
In America, anti-war politics and anti-fashion attitudes went
hand in hand. In the Soviet Union, a pair of black market blue
jeans sold for hundreds of black market dollars. At the
counterculture's music festivals and "happenings," the impulse
to return to nature reached its logical conclusion: nudity,
adorned only with body paint and super-abundant hair.
In 1968, when student protests almost succeeded in toppling
France's Fifth Republic, at least one Paris couturier had reached
a crisis of confidence. Surveying the jeans-clad demonstrators,
Yves Saint Laurent realized that their entire generation
considered him an anachronism and his work irrelevant.
Balenciaga had closed his doors in that year, declaring that
haute couture was no longer possible. From that point on, a
successful fashion designer would have to take to the streets,
hoping to read the pulse of the times.
The American fashion industry, perhaps because of its longer
experience in ready-to-wear, was able to weather the crisis of
the late '60s and the Mini vs. Midi débacle of the early
1970s. Seizing upon the young's penchant for thrift shops, some
designers transformed themselves into "Retro" stylists.
In Milan, the enterprising Elio Fiorrucci scored a capitalist coup,
co-opting the forces of anti-fashion by introducing "designer"
jeans. In Paris, the first boutique to import clothing from
Communist China inspired a modest wave of Chinoiserie that
benefited from Nixonian détente. But in retrospect, the
fashion scene of the '70s seems adrift, awaiting Yves Saint
Laurent's landmark "Russian" couture collection for fall 1976.
