Overdressed in San Francisco: My de Young Dilemma
Before heading to the de Young for the new Oscar De la Renta exhibition, I rummaged through my closet to find an outfit appropriate enough to be among such show-stopping creations. De la Renta was a theatrical and fearless designer, so I couldn’t wait to be up close and personal with the couture. Upon my arrival to the building, I looked around and had the same self-deprecating thought when I viewed the Gaultier exhibition back in 2012: “Oh great. I’m overdressed.”
It was nothing outrageous, a fitted Robert Geller button down with sharp shoes and slim pants, but it still felt like I was out of place. Everyone else was wearing the current San Francisco standards: hoodies, blue jeans and tennis shoes. Even at a fashion exhibit, the culture of dressing down had become the norm. As I walked by the dresses in my semi-finery, I looked around at the others and wondered, “Why does San Francisco have fashion exhibits when we’ve become so anti-fashion?”
Oscar Wilde famously wrote, “It’s an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco.” When I moved here in 2008, I believed him. The city was rarely covered in national or global news, and it felt like I was part of an anonymous movement.
You could be whomever and wear whatever helped you on your journey to self-discovery.
I was broke with expensive taste, so naturally I rummaged through my favorite secondhand shops and local designer pop-ups to cultivate a wardrobe fit for my muse: a less masculine Amelia Earhart. But then the city became a key influencer in the latest tech bubble, and suddenly every major news outlet was covering our cultural shift. That’s when my wardrobe started looking out of place.
Since the prominent industry in New York is finance, people dress in smart looking suits and business attire. In Los Angeles, the entertainment industry calls for a polished, trend-heavy wardrobe. San Francisco is now the leading force in tech, and one only needs to look at Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg’s closet for insight into the new dress code — Levi’s jeans, a T-shirt and a zip-up hoodie.
In the same way that drinking protein powder replaced actual meals for coders residing in our culinary capital, generic hoodies adorned with startup logos and athleisure have replaced the closets once filled with budding designers and secondhand treasures. I’ve dabbled in my share of various startups over the last couple of years, and pajama pants and slippers seemingly became acceptable forms of work attire. But it’s not just the various software startups that embrace the trend of dressing down. Even the fashion industry has changed.
“I used to dress up way more when I lived in Los Angeles,” quipped Allyson, a friend who works in corporate at a fashion startup. “I would be so much more conscious about wearing make up and doing my hair to go to work. But now that I’m here, people seemingly don’t care as much, so I gradually haven’t cared as much either. Which is weird, considering I work in fashion.”
There certainly is money lining the Levi’s of these software engineers and South Bay shuttle bus riders, but what keeps them from exploring a more diverse wardrobe?
“They’re workaholics,” explained Marc, another friend who has programmed for Apple, Twitter and Google. “There is no difference between work and life outside.”
Perhaps this could be a positive shift in what we think establishes identity. No longer do the clothes make the man, which is fine. There should be way more focus on a person’s character anyway. But when you only wear apparel branded with the logo for the startup you work for, how can that possibly nourish your individuality?
De la Renta’s belief as a designer was that every woman he dressed was made to feel like his most important client. Perhaps there is an algorithm combining the two beliefs where identity can be routinely measured and an alarm goes off when you put too much focus on your worth as an employee or fashionista. I’d download that app.
The de Young show saved de la Renta’s most exquisite dresses for the final gallery, a venerable red carpet of retrospective regality. Many of the dresses were worn by some of the most notorious of style and American icons: Sarah Jessica Parker, Rihanna, Jacqueline Kennedy and even Hillary Rodham Clinton, but the one major standout that captivated the crowds was the gown SJP wore to the 2014 Met Gala.
The dress is inspiring. Clean, captivating and incredibly de la Renta, but what drew everyone’s attention was his scarlet-hued signature embroidered on the train. It was a perfect way to conclude a fashion exhibit in a city crippled by an identity crisis.
It’s not that anyone would question whether Sarah Jessica could wear Oscar de la Renta, but just so you knew.
Note: This article originally appeared on Ripple.co, which has been acquired and now appears on Hoodline
