I’ve filled my room with magazines. Now what?
At the top of my cupboard is a dusty box filled with two thick, spiral-bound books, their pages yellowed with age, each gentle to the fingertips. They contain clippings from Vogue, perfume samples, and the occasional bit of dear-diary. Between the two of them, they tell the story of two or so years in the life of a self-proclaimed fashion enthusiast.
Hi, I’m Minh Le, a senior at Lehigh University majoring in journalism. You see, I’m a grown-up on paper and a child at heart. At 22, fashion images from those early days still make some dormant feelings crackle in me, but I now see them for so much more than just beautiful images.
An image is worth a thousand words, and I’ve spent close to a decade piecing together the story of my time. I hope to start a column called In Fashion: Live From The Basement, which has the goal of synthesizing what’s happening in fashion with history seen through the pages from my library.
By the time I reached my 18th birthday, my personal feat had hit 25. Three years later, I looked around and it seemed I owned 50. Now I think I’m at 70. Or 80. The only difference is that I’ve made room below the two scrapbooks for a collection of fashion magazines that are, on some days, silly, pointless joy, yet, on others, key to how I see the world.
Somewhere around the time I crossed the threshold into middle school, something snapped.
No longer did I crave the trip to the mall, where the once-a-year purchase of a woolen coat would renew my spirit every winter. In fashion images were ideas that made me feel like a long-dormant part of my brain was getting jolted alive. Clothes had shed their original function, and fashion had become, for me, conduits to another world.
At nine years old, I was blissfully unaware of class segregation, knew nothing of climate change, and had no grasp on the social conversations embedded in the pictures I was collecting. But the instant emotions I told you I had felt? Those were quick, and they’re only strengthened by what I know now of what has been and what will be.
Two years ago, I bought a back issue of Vogue that had been my childhood favorites years before. In person, it stunned me so much that for a long time I couldn’t stand to flip through it.
The model was in black, prone and dirty on jagged rocks, netting draped around her legs like a dead sea creature. In another photo, she was sleek with oil, spitting up water while clutching her neck. The cover story, featuring Kristen McMenamy, is titled Water & Oil and was shot by fashion photographer Steven Meisel for the August issue of Vogue Italia in 2010.
Four months prior, the Deepwater Horizon oil spill had discharged in the Gulf of Mexico — the volume of oil peaking at more than 60,000 barrels per day. It went on to become the largest marine oil spill in the history of the petroleum industry and one of the direst environmental disasters in American history. Since Water & Oil was published, the leak continued to wash ashore, and thousands of birds, mammals, and sea turtles were plastered with leaked oil.
You see, much of what I collect comes from a time when the world was a different place. I didn’t acquire my collection as a status enhancement or investment — and frankly, it’s not worth much to the average Joe. It had been taken out of use, removed from circulation. The real value lies not in its physical relevance, but in the lasting impact it has on our society.
Much like how Water & Oil Live was social commentary on a global travesty: From The Basement views clothings beyond the perspective of consumerism and treats fashion as a cultural driving force.
I do often wonder if my desire to collect these two-dimensional objects will last, and if I could keep up with the things that for the past 10 years have intrigued my curiosity and awakened my inner child.
Fashion has a lot to say. On average, American Vogue alone produces three editorials per month, and so 36 per year and 720 in the last two decades — not to mention the other 26 international editions, as of today. Off the grid, also, are independent titles that have attained something of a cult status with their slow-paced publishing and anarchic approach to the magazine format. What I do know for sure: I’m more than happy to wade into the chaos and dig for value because fashion is, indeed, important.
On that note, I’m looking forward to sharing my collection with you. In the upcoming weeks, I’ll take a look at the pandemic in images and how the coronavirus may have led to fundamental shifts in the industry’s creative output. Explicitly, it is quite the irony that the mask, something that is used to obscure our identity has become the identifier of our time. You can also expect reflection on what diversity and inclusion looks like both in front and behind the camera, or if much of the industry’s sustainability efforts is genuine.
I’m excited — this column would be the first scrapbook I’ve done in the last 10 years.
