1980s fashion man

Has menswear changed? - international fashion

An International Fashion Report

In the not-so-distant past, say forty, fifty years ago, menswear - or men's haberdashery as it was regularly, quaintly referred to then - was more easily defined by what it was not: It was not colorful, it was not attention-seeking, it was not self-conscious, nor was it risky (or risque). In other words, men's clothing presented all the scope of the horizon just before it rains. Maybe a lapel would stretch a little to the right or left, maybe a pant leg would widen or narrow, maybe a pleat would be added to a waistband or a shirt tapered closer to the rib cage, but men's fashion, as defined by the prevailing attitude of the day, was formulaic, and the ability to clock any changes in it required the attention, say, of witnessing an hour hand's nearly imperceptible shift on the face of a Timex.

Not surprisingly, the typical male attitude toward their wardrobes used to be one of, if not disinterest, then studied nonchalance. Given the available choices, it wasn't hard for the average man to believe that his wardrobe needn't be a large one, and that his clothing choices ought to be few but well-loved. On the other hand, if a man appeared too interested in clothes, heads would start shaking, eyebrows would start rising, and jokes would start to fly. Of course, every generation has produced a few risk-takers willing to push the envelope of fashion and social acceptability. But for the vast majority, less inclined to strike out in their own creative directions but nonetheless yearning to feed their inner clotheshorse, there was little more to choose from than cotton shirts and silk neckties, the fashion equivalent of hay.

Since those times, of course, there have been many changes - little events like the women's movement and the Vietnam War, the '60s and the fights for civil and gay rights - all of which have conspired to shift, both subtly and not so, the way men and women view themselves, and by extension, what they extend across their bodies. While the changes that have transformed women's fashion have been well documented, there has also been a revolution in menswear and in men. We've lived through periods in which it was not unusual to see men with hair to their waists, or when a man's political beliefs were most nakedly expressed by his decision to wear nothing at all; times when a man in women's clothing garnered not just widespread recognition. but a kind of appreciation, too (granted in the way one would feel about a cartoon character), and when, conversely, clothes an earlier generation would never have considered wearing out of the gym or off the playing field have muscled their way into daily life. And while men may not have decided to make the symbolic move of burning their jockstraps the way women a generation earlier burned their bras, they have, as they say, come a long way, baby.

In the past fifty years, of course, no period has been more explosive and more conducive to change - both of the immediate and future varieties - than the '60s.

For participants as well as for those who remained on the sidelines, the period brought on the storms those gray, cloudy skies had been promising so many years before. It hardly mattered that the skies didn't open up evenly on everyone - the atmosphere had changed irrevocably nonetheless. That fact was reflected in many ways far weightier than what men were putting on their backs. And in perhaps one of the most admirable - if unintentional - examples of collective male chivalry ever, the '60s and '70s were a time when men finally stood back and the spotlight was allowed to linger on the changes that affected the lives of such groups as women, minorities, and the underprivileged. Men couldn't change until the world that men created had changed. And despite those who would want to turn the clock back to an earlier time, when men were above being questioned, when men felt - excuse the expression - as though they were kings of the world, the truth is that men really have gotten better, albeit some of them kicking and screaming along the way. So has the way they're dressing.

But it sure has taken a while. It would not have been unreasonable to expect that out of all the social changes of the '60s, a newer, freer way of dressing would have presented itself to men by the '70s, and while the cut of a man's suit adopted an undeniable flair, while the soles of his shoes might have risen an inch or two off the ground, while his ties may have grown wider at the ends and his trousers closer to the thigh, it is also true that things didn't really change all that much either. A man's clothing options were still more defined by the sorts of activities he participated in - business, leisure, athletics - than by an ability to express who he was by his choice of sandals and swim trunks. If ultimate freedom of dress had for a moment seemed within a man's grasp, as the '70s went on it remained elusively at arm's length. Still, whatever stasis may have existed on the sartorial surface of things, changes - in the form of body-clinging cuts and fabrics and high-cut athletic shorts specifically, and a more open acceptance of the idea of male narcissism generally - bubbled just beneath. The gay liberation scene of the late '70s would take care of that once and for all. It was a party that looked like it would go on forever, but AIDS brought up the house lights with alarming swiftness, transforming the mood from one of joyous (critics would say hedonist and escapist) celebration to one of fear and survivalism.

But before that, at Studio 54, on Fire Island, along the length of Christopher Street, men were taking back the plumage they'd given up centuries before, and whether that took the form of a Nick-Nick shirt or a Hanes tank-top, the era of male-denied vanity was coming to a close. Not everyone was taking to the streets in tight Levi's and cowboy boots, of course. (Nor was everybody suddenly gay, although, because of the influence that late '70s gay culture wielded on mainstream style and nightlife, it may have felt that way to some.) Besides, something monumental had begun to happen. A new consumer had been identified: the fashion-conscious male - gay, straight, and everything in between.

Of all the trends and cultural movements that have gotten men to where we are now, one can't ignore the effect of the financial boom in the early '80s, which in turn led to the next chapter in the menswear revolution. Newly rich, often creative types adopted a style of dress that would come to say as much about being part of the establishment as it would about the power of style. It wasn't long before being stylish became part of the recipe for being powerful. Think studio head - in need of appropriately professional attire, but unwilling to go back to the uniforms of their fathers. Think a looser look, led by Giorgio Armani, with pleated pants and unconstructed jackets. Think about how many other designers in the '80s were answering men's need for self expression. There were Versace, Valentino, Byblos, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, and a handful of stellar others, but compared to today the list was small, and the options presented much, much fewer.

Which takes us to the question, has menswear changed? And its answer: You bet. As the images on this and the preceding pages suggest - all rendered from the men's spring/summer '99 collections presented in Paris, Milan, and New York - we are now in a time of tremendous options and seemingly endless variety, with no hard and fast rules about shape and color, and with the onus placed snugly on the consumer to choose what's right and most comfortable for him. While none of the issues that has affected men's fashion over the last ten or twenty years has gone away, the last several years have nonetheless seen a flowering of the assorted ideas that have come out of the various passages of our collective history. Smart designers (and there seem suddenly to be many) are listening to both themselves and the people around them, and the result is the rainbow you see here.