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Lyon's Den

When I first arrived at the Modernbook Gallery I was disappointed. The fourth floor of 49 Geary St. had initially stunned me. As I walked out of the elevator and down to the end of the hall, I was passing multiple galleries filled with graffiti collages, bronze baby sculptures, and Richard Avedon prints. As I finally got to the open doors of the “San Francisco Then” exhibit, I was already coming-down off of my art buzz--the previous glimpses of the other shows had provided enough excitement for me to be satisfied. I arrived with a feeling of disenchantment; the framed, well-ordered black-and-whites somehow didn’t measure up to the taxidermic infants and color fields of Barry McGee. Nevertheless, I entered Fred Lyon’s new-but-old gallery with a sense of respect and inquiry.

To be honest, I was bored at first. It was neat, organized, and lacked any sort of creative media that the previous galleries had (i.e. music and color). The orderly ambience of the small room set my overall mood. Even the one man who worked there was boring. Mr. Lyon did not make a good first impression; but I gave him one last chance. I was determined to inspect every picture that was hung on the wall; if the prints were not interesting at least, then Fred will have truly lost me.

As I went up and down the aptly painted walls (white), I first looked at the pictures from afar, then closer, catching every detail. The beginning were the five larger prints; they seemed to be the everyday attractions that San Francisco had, and still has, to offer: a cable car thrill ride, hills and towers, a seagull over the Golden Gate Bridge, and again the Golden Gate Bridge by itself. The titles for the pictures continued with Lyon’s prevailing struggle with creativity--the cable car thrill ride was named “Cable Car Thrill Ride,” the hills and towers were named “Hills and Towers,” and so forth. Yet, something was still pushing me to continue on with the other images. Maybe it was Marta, my emphatic teacher who planned the trip, who was throwing every new discovery of the exhibit into the room; perhaps it was the desire to find one image that would make the trip worthwhile, or maybe it was just my morning double espresso that kept me going--either way, I was determined to find something.

So I ventured on to the other side of the room--a more personal side with smaller images with more people than landmarks. This is where most people were; it was a side that held more history. The pictures consisted of a conventional San Francisco image; fog, bridges, cable cars, street signs all alluded to the typical San Franciscan-city lifestyle. Lyon’s theme of old meeting new was omnipresent. Whether it be the pleasant top to bottom juxtaposition of adolescent boys climbing a fence with aging men playing dominoes or with Lyon’s gallery itself, the theme was held thoroughly throughout the exhibit. He continues an intimate character study with a wall filled with eight pictures stacked carefully above and beside each other, all evoking a working man feel: a fisher with his son, a parking enforcer, a teenage boy racing a homemade go-cart, a sailor on leave at Fisherman’s Wharf, etc. With each picture, San Francisco’s story deepens; the history of the city is embraced by the monuments and the people who made them, all captured by Lyon.

Every picture in the exhibit ranges from the year 1946 to 1953. Lyon was said to have chosen this era because “it was shot in black and white and, most important, because it was organized and boxed and labeled.” This was where I started to learn the meaning behind the gallery’s atmosphere--form was following function as Lyon imitated his picture’s moods within the place they were being displayed. I began to realize that this wasn’t a man of the twenty-first century; he was an octogenarian who had just opened his first gallery featuring pictures that were sixty years late. That was where I grasped the meaning of this exhibit: it was different and eye-opening. It wasn’t meant to be compared to anything being done now because, obviously, it wasn’t being made now. I had been looking at these images from a completely different angle; instead of trying to find something new, I should have been looking at the past.

A new mind was being wrought as I walked out of that gallery. Sure I went back into the other galleries by contemporary and edgy artists, but I went back holding onto the sense of history that Lyon’s distilled in his “San Francisco Then” exhibit, and I’m pretty sure that was his intention.

San Francisco Then: Fred Lyon's photographs from the 1940s and '50s. Through Aug. 28. Modernbook Gallery, 49 Geary St., S.F. (415) 732-0300. www.modernbook.com.

LA Ladey

Alex Prager, a 31-year-old Los Angeleno, is none too shy when it comes to representing her hometown. The West Coast based photographer, whose wildly playful exhibits have landed her recognition from The Daily Beast, Nylon, Elle, and The New York Times (twice), has completed her trilogy of photographs back in January with the opening of “Week End.” She now, however, has a new title that she is ‘repping’ L.A. with: director. Her latest venture--a rough 4-minute short film featuring Twilight Saga star Bryce Dallas Howard--coincides with her ubiquitous theme of cinematic 50s/60s inspired leading ladies. Her themes have become largely recognized as an overall reference to Los Angeles culture: beautiful and flirty on the outside, disastrous and miserable within. Prager’s woman--enveloped in false eyelashes, Mad Men attire, and cigarette smoke--often portray a world of enigma and vulnerability. The Los Angeles fantasy-world Prager creates in her subjects seem to consistently allude to a type of insane mystery that only a Hitchcock directed Pierrot Le Fou could inspire. Whatever she lacks in her fragmentary motif, Prager neutralizes with a strong loyalty to Los Angeles.

You can see Prager’s work at www.alexprager.com.

Review for "Class Act" by Sarah Haight in W Magazine

In the article, Sarah Haight asserts that “San Francisco’s sprawling Academy of Art University [is looking] to compete as a serious school of fashion.” With her portrayal of the school’s highly acclaimed administrators, Simon Ungless and Gladys Perint Palmer, Haight generates a cogent set of reasons for the school’s up-and-coming status. Not only does she reference the two esteemed backgrounds of acclaimed fashion studies and industry experience, but she also reveals their long-standing devotion to the betterment and advancement of the university. The sense of respectability and achievement held throughout the article is displayed through the high standards maintained by the instructors: in no more than the first year, every fashion student must know how “to draw, cut, sew, and drape.” Haight seeks to change the university’s perceived image of a low-tier fashion school in order to reveal the Academy as “the world’s best fashion school you’ve never heard of.” She establishes an honest tone towards an audience of interested and educated individuals. In regard to whether the Academy of Art University is portrayed in a negative or positive light, Haight displays a ray of optimism in her article.

Balmainia

Since 2006, Balmain has offered a freshness that can only be attributed to the talents of Christophe Decarnin, named artistic director of the prestigious label. The 65-year-old French fashion house has been able to pull itself out of rockbottom (aka bankruptcy) and establish a once-again groundbreaking brand. Succeeding Pierre Balmain and Oscar de la Renta, Decarnin quickly demonstrated his ability to convey an edgy approach to a classic line. Adored by celebrities and craved by aspiring fashionistas everywhere, Balmain has been able to break tradition thanks to Decarnin.

Decarnin himself has commented on the importance of holding true to Pierre Balmain: “it is very important to hold the spirit of Balmain, and I think about him everyday.” When it comes to inspiration, Decarnin is no stranger to the life and legacy of Balmain (the man and the label). Pierre Balmain was born in 1914 and studied architecture in Paris, but left school to work for fashion designer Edward Molyneux. Balmain founded his own house in 1945 and incorporated his studies of structure and build into his elegantly shaped and draped designs. He, along with Christian Dior and Cristobal Balenciaga, was responsible for reintroducing luxury into a post-World War II fashion world. His sophisticated, fashionable looks were a preference among royals and movie stars alike, ranging from Marlene Dietrich to Katherine Hepburn to Sophia Loren. Continuing to Dress the likes of Ava Gardener and Bridgitte Bardot, Balmain rose to fame and fortune all while popularizing an iconic look: simple, tailored suits and evening gowns with the same aesthetic of slender and elegant lines. He designed clothes for 16 different films, as well as his eponymous line, throughout his life. Until his death in 1982, Balmain was seen as the man to epitomize elegance and style in his brand.

The journey from Balmain to Decarnin, however, was not as lovely as the fashion world had hoped it would be. Balmain’s assistant, Erik Mortensen, took over until 1990, and two years later, Oscar de la Renta joined. From 1992 to 2002, de la Renta designed couture for the house until Laurent Mercier took over. The glory days were dwindling for the classic brand, and soon the house fell under financial burden and subsequently filed for bankruptcy. Today, the ingenious French designer Christophe Decarnin guides the house.

Without fear, Decarnin has taken Balmain away from its soigné mode and recreated (with much approval) a more contemporary, edgier vision. Born in 1964 in the city of Le Touquet, Christophe Decarnin began his passion for resuscitation at an early age. Fascinated by the images and style of 50s Hollywood films, Decarnin left home for Paris at seventeen to attend ESMOD, Paris’s most prestigious fashion school. Soon after, he spent seven years as head designer of ready-to-wear for Paco Rabanne. In 2005, revived and ready to make a come back, investors recruited Decarnin to revitalize the fashion house.

Geared towards a younger customer and in a boulder direction, Decarnin has successfully aroused “Balmainia.” Apart from influencing other designers’ work, the change can also be seen in the Balmain’s revenue: in 2009 the mass income amounted to $28 million. Sales have doubled since his appointment, and that is only the beginning. For a label that was once known for ultbraelegant evening attire complete with pletes and draping, the designer has taken the label to a whole different level. Replete with embellished necklines, short hemlines, fringe, appliqués, sequins, chain mail, and a skintight silhouette, the collections of Balmain have come a long way.

Decarnin has seemingly been able to spin thread into gold. Balmain has since become one of the most expensive clothing lines ever--a sparkly tee is $3,000, dresses are $12,000 to $22,000, and jackets are $5,000. So what is making women go crazy for seemingly overpriced attire? Kate Phelan, Vogue’s fashion direction, sounds like she may have a theory: “It's become a cool label. Quite trashy, but glamorous, rock 'n' roll and sexy, and there's a lack of that in fashion." Customers are aware that it is an investment. The fashion house is a name that people trust and Decarnin has achieved a sought-after line. A new tone is being given--a sexy, youthful one--that not many other designers are offering.

Icons ranging from French Vogue editor Carine Roitfied to award-winning director Sofia Coppola have skyrocketed Decarnin into legendary status. Despite the sudden rise in success, the designer does not love the celebrity endorsement, but rather enjoys the cultivation of mystery. Talent and discretion have supplied Christophe Decarnin with a five-times sales turnover for one of the most prestigious French designing houses.

Decarnin with his bitches.

Ankle Report

With all the crazy hosiery variations going on lately, only one trend has been making consistent comeback over the decades: the ankle sock. Established in the late 20s and popularized in the 50s, along with poodle skirts and cat-eye glasses, the ankle sock has become one of America’s lasting adornments of an era. They’re affordable, comfortable, and respected amongst women of class everywhere: what’s not to love?

Formerly deemed the “bobby sock,” the ankle sock has periodically come back into fashion as stylists and designers commonly reference the 40s and 50s time periods. Worn with a sense of nostalgia, the socks have been visited by veritable fashionistas such as Katherine Hepburn. The thing about ankle socks is that they can allude to any number of decades; whether a 20s female golfer (à la The Great Gatsby’s Jordan Baker) or a 50s teen (perhaps Grease’s Sandy?) is attempting to be conveyed, the ankle sock is a sure bet for paying dues to the past.

Now, whether you blame the recurring androgynous footwear fad, a subconscious desire to bring back the roaring 20’s growth of economy and decadence, or a candid sentimentality for sock hops, there is no denying that the ankle sock is appearing on a diverse bunch of feet.

However, it is merely not enough to own a pair of ankle socks to deem oneself a trendsetter; it is what one does with those socks that truly transports the modern era of fashion with the past to create a new look. Previously, the socks were classically worn with a pair of Oxfords or various types of loafers along with a below-the-knee skirt (the poodle dog was optional). Today, woman can wear ankle socks in an innumerable amount of ways.

To unquestioningly ‘rock’ the socks, one must first understand the principles of proportion and anatomy. Ankle socks typically look best on lean legs...but then again, doesn’t everything? The important thing to keep in mind when donning an under-the-knee sock is the length. A higher sock is typically going to make the leg look longer and slimmer, and a shorter sock is going to shorten the leg line. Have no fear, however, because the proper shoe will determine whether the socks are ‘hot or not.’

As seen in the 2010 Spring RTW’s, bothChristian Dior and Burberry Porsum demonstrated an ankle sock ubiquity in their shows. To draw a comparison to these shows and the popularity of ankle socks since then, one must look at how the designers approached the socks: long, bare legs and kneck-breaking heels. Equilibrium was in full effect for the two collections as barely there legs were balanced out with playful ankle socks and full, generous tops. Still, there are many more ways to tackle the ankle sock--as seen in the Fall 2010 RTW, Marc Jacobs took a different route when designing around the socks. Through references to both the 40s and 50s, Jacobs’s socks were paired with flats and mid-calf length dresses and skirts. Sticking to neutral colors (the same light gray colored socks were never changed), the stability of the collection was grounded. As Burberry stuck to this kind of mentality, Dior chose to accessorize with sparkly, tight, and colorful ankle socks throughout his collection.

As stated before, the ankle sock is nothing new, but that does not mean that it can be worn with anything. The appropriate ensemble and pair of shoes is what can ultimately determine the success of the socks. However, when in doubt, look to early-adapter Alexa Chung to unlock all ankle sock secrets--she seems to have the best luck with them.