The New York Times reports today on the ladyfashions that lit up the most recent ComicCon: “Visitors were garbed as their favorite cartoon heroines, an outlandish cast of characters that varied from Wonder Woman to the violet-haired Faye of ‘Cowboy Bebop,’ the Japanese manga and anime series, to pink crinoline-clad Lolitas that were candy-coated variations on the brooding goth originals who strut their style on Tokyo’s streets.” The whole piece is not only great fun, but also a major Halloween costume idea delivery system. The only thing that bummed me out (not the article’s fault): the frequent descriptions of Wonder Woman’s costume as inspiration. The old Wonder Woman. Le sigh.

Related: Chris on Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Nikki Finke hates it. I think she’ll at least be less chilly. How do you feel about the original Glamazon’s new outfit? Let us know in the comments.

They’re not baby stilettos, or, God help us, infant wigs, but “boyfriend” jeans … for toddlers? NO. 2-year-olds these days are stressed enough about getting playdates.

From the AP :

Tim Gunn is taking his fight against fashion crimes from the workrooms of “Project Runway” to the pages of a comic book. And, wow, does he get to wear a power suit.

The “Loaded Gunn” story line — to save an exhibit of extraordinary superhero clothes from a cadre of villains — is part of a book that reintroduces a group of Marvel’s high-fashion “Models Inc.” comic characters from the 1960s.

“It’s a little `America’s Next Top Model’ — without Tyra (Banks) — and a little `Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,'” says Marvel editor Charlie Beckerman.

The Gunn project evolved on a whim, but it turned out Gunn was a childhood comic fan and a good sport, Beckerman says.

Gunn says the experience has been “the most bizarre thing.”

“It’s exciting and exhilarating, but bizarre. When they came to me, I said, `I’m about to turn 56 years old. Are they crazy?’ But it kept revealing itself in layers and next thing, I’m wearing the `Iron Man’ suit. I was dumbstruck.”

Personally, Gunn says he always fancied himself more of a Batman type, but he’s pleased with the result.

“Most superheroes are fighting the same thing — good vs. evil — but who’s taking on crimes against fashion? Me!”

The biggest offense, hands down: clothes that don’t fit properly, Gunn says. And, if he had the truly incredible power to remove one item from closets all around the world, no question it would be Crocs.

“It’s the No. 1 fashion crime item — and I see it a lot,” Gunn says.

Sure, I guess it’s cute to toss your boyfriend’s blazer over your spaghetti straps on a chilly night. Or to snuggle, apres ski, in his big bulky sweater. Or to [NC17 version] pad around his pad wearing nothing but his rumpled oxford and a come-back-to-bed-when-you-finish-those-eggs smile. Or to spend a lazy Sunday lounging about in his beekeeper’s coveralls and giant sombrero. Oh, that’s just me? Mmmkay. Anyway.

Yeah, that’s all cute. Less so, says Crisis in Denim, is when apparel makers call their clothes “boyfriend” clothes. As in: the roomy “boyfriend sweater” (which I guess, things being the way they are, we’ll now go back to calling the “poorboy sweater,” hahaha), the oversized “boyfriend jacket,” a la Lisa Bonet circa 1988, not to mention the boyfriend tee, the boyfriend jeans. This nomenclature, she notes, generally doesn’t work the other way around. (“[C]an you for one moment see menswear designers debuting the Girlfriend Suit at Fashion Week?”) And yeah, there’s something a little ickly aspirational (to say nothing of heteronormative) about it — as if the appeal would be that wearing these clothes says, “Hey! I have a BOYFRIEND!” But maybe that’s reading too much into it. I’m all for comfy (as opposed to other, dare I say, Fashion By Patriarchy looks), but really, maybe “boyfriend” is clothing industry code for “doesn’t really fit.”

Guys who wear shirts with BUTTONS, that is.

Okay, not what I would wear to fight crime. Or, really to leave the house.

 

I went to see Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy at the Met in New York. These pop culture exhibits can get a little bullsh*tty with their what-does-it-all-mean? blurbs, but you’ll have fun if you go in the spirit of the craven organizers (“Superhero movie costumes will bring in the kids!”) rather than that of the hapless exhibit designers (“Well, a loosely knitted shawl is kind of Spider-Man-y, right?”). A few fashion designers actually were inspired by Superman, Wonder Woman or (Tim Burton’s) Catwoman — and here the show works as intended — but the rest is a bigger stretch than Plastic Man.

My big problem with the exhibit is that while due credit is given to the amazing designers and craftspeople that realize superhero costumes on screen, NO credit is given to the original comic book illustrators or editors that created or influenced their designs. (They may be credited on the website, but not in the exhibit itself.) It’s as if superheroes just are — like the Greek gods or something — their origins too arcane to explore, or their designs such a foregone conclusion that if Steve Ditko hadn’t picked Spider-Man’s ensemble someone else would have?

Strangest of all, there is no comic book imagery accompanying the movie costumes and haute couture creations; All the backdrops are from the films, or one of Alex Ross’ (albeit thrilling) photo-realistic paintings. Only on the last wall, crowded together as a seeming afterthought before the giftshop, do we see any comics. But what comics they are! Action Comics #1, Amazing Fantasy #15, Captain America #1, Flash Comics #1, etc.! Sadly, the most valuable items in the show — both money-wise and culture-wise — have the least value to the exhibitors.