They did it by "selling white youth on their fetishization of black style, and black youth on their fetishization of white wealth." They saw "a peculiar cachet in the inner cities, where the hip-hop philosophy of "living large" saw poor and working-class kids acquiring status in the ghetto by adopting the gear and accoutrement of prohibitively costly leisure activities, such as skiing, golfing, even boating. In the book, how Tommy Hilfiger made millions in the late '90s perfectly summarizes streetwear brands' formula. ![]() Even though it was published in 1999, and so massive a hit the NYT called it a "movement bible," the messages of the book are, sadly, more relevant than ever. When I read No Logo: Taking Aim at the Brand Bullies by Canadian author Naomi Klein earlier this year, I wanted to highlight every other line. Quality gets shoddier the more the company focuses on financial growth. Production is moved to cheap factories in third-world countries where workers are basically modern-day slaves. When logos and branding become the products' focus, everyone loses except for the corporation. "Products are made in the factory, but brands are made in the mind" The book Deluxe: How Luxury Lost Its Luster uncovers the shady industry of corporations buying designer brands and pumping out lower price point items under their branding to the masses while cutting corners in production. How much is a logo worth? For many companies, they know it's ridiculously more than producing the product itself. If you mentally remove the logo from any item you covet, would it still have the same cachet? Would that Chanel bag still be worth $4000? How are you liking that plain white tee you just paid $300 for? Or that simple brown bag that's not even leather but plastic? Let's face it: most designer logos worn are announcing "I'm rich AF," or, depending on the nuanced message behind each brand, "I'm classy and rich AF," "I'm hip and rich AF," "I'm edgy and rich AF." In reality, it's more like "Okay, I'm broke AF, but I want everyone to know I can at least afford this overpriced T-shirt." Well, that's exactly what I want to avoid. Stylist Rachel Zoe said, "Style is a way to say who you are without having to speak." Wearing a logo is speaking, and in a very lazy way, because it is the tacky shortcut to being the person you want the world to see. They announce to the world who or what you stand behind. So what's the big deal? I can admit that some logos can be aesthetically pleasing, a design statement in its own right. No matter how much I admire a designer, I won't wear the brand's logo. My aversion to logos has slowly snowballed over the years, at first a subconscious decision, and now something I fully stand behind. Pinįast forward to present day, still without a real Chanel purse but somehow a real woman. For years I stuck it in its fake box with the fake verification cards until one day, I threw it in the trash. While it was an exact duplicate, I hated that bag-and myself for owning it. ![]() ![]() Or rather asked my boyfriend at the time to buy the specific fake I wanted for my birthday. Of course, as a poor high school student, and an even poorer university student, I didn't have the cash for a real one. Unclasping those gold interlocking CCs would open the doors. Owning one would be my gateway to womanhood. Once in middle school, a classmate's pride in her new baby tee emblazoned with a massive CK Jeans logo made me cringe I was embarrassed for all my peers who placed alarming importance on turning themselves into human billboards.īut I wasn't any better in my late teens and early twenties when I lusted after designer purses. I blame women's magazines, Kate Moss, and Sex in the City. Splurging on It bags to keep up with the It girls was the way to go when fast fashion had you covered with the rest of the outfit. While I still found monogrammed purses, like those LV Speedy bags, to be terribly cheesy, I really wanted a classic black quilted Chanel. Those tight-fitting polo shirts with little green alligators. Those velour tracksuits with JUICY splashed across the butt. From grade school to high school, I managed to evade the omnipresent desire for branded clothes: Tommy, Calvin, Abercrombie, Nike.
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