Face the fashion

“Why do you go to Columbia if you want to work in fashion?” I get this question all the time from everyone—professors, floor-mates, friends, acquaintances, my parents, and random strangers who email me. It usually comes with a slight tone of hesitation, as if the person asking the question doesn’t want to offend me.

The problem with this question isn’t that Columbia happens to be a breeding ground for sartorial talent (it’s not). And it isn’t that I’m offended by the question (I’m not).

The problem is that the question insinuates that being intellectually driven and curious—a common trait of Columbia students—and caring about fashion are mutually exclusive. It implies that a degree from Columbia University is a waste of time and money for anyone who wants to work in the fashion industry. My fellow campus fashionistas and I spend much of our time trying to prove that we, too, can read and discuss Kant intelligently in our CC classes—while wearing five-inch heels.

For the past week or so, Lincoln Center and its downtown sisters, The Standard Hotel and Milk Studios, have been bustling with fashionistas, celebrities, and paparazzi—but most Columbia students couldn’t care less that it’s New York Fashion Week.

And while we, the fashion-obsessed of Columbia, do not expect everyone to care about fashion as much as we do, we’d like for everyone to see how fashion applies to the typical Columbia student’s life.

Columbia is not the most conducive environment for sartorial exploration. For example, the cobblestones on College Walk have injured many brave fashionistas who have attempted to walk across in stilettos. I sprained my ankle because I thought it would be a good idea to wear my platform boots to Pupin. It wasn’t, and I looked really idiotic hobbling my way to Health Services.

But fashion is not just about vanity or exclusion. It’s a reflection of culture. It can be empowering. Robin Givhan, a Princeton graduate, Pulitzer Prize-winning fashion columnist, and style and culture correspondent for Newsweek and The Daily Beast, once wrote, “[Fashion] is not the most important thing in the world, certainly. But it does tell us a lot about who we are as a society in the same way that great architecture, music and art do.”

Clothes don’t have to be “haute couture” to be fashionable. When you’re debating whether to wear a blue tie or red tie to your Goldman Sachs interview, that’s fashion. When you choose to roll out of bed and change into something slightly presentable for your 9 a.m. seminar, that’s fashion. When you decide not to wear a miniskirt to 1020 in subzero temperatures, that’s fashion. When your grandma knits you an ugly Christmas sweater and you guiltily throw it in the back of your closet, that’s fashion. You’re attempting to manipulate how others perceive you through conscious and unconscious sartorial decisions. There is a reason why President Barack Obama wears suits made by union workers instead of Armani or Brooks Brothers.

In my sociology class with lecturer Victor Corona, The Culture Industry, we discuss how fashion, music, art, film, and other sectors in the culture industry work together to produce innovation and millions of jobs. Who would Lady Gaga be if she didn’t wear something to make her stand out amongst the other blonde pop artists? Your perception of her would undoubtedly be different if she wore pantsuits (or pants, for that matter).

Like politicians, many Columbia students pretend not to care about fashion while paying close attention to their appearances in certain situations. You don’t have to care about this multi-billion-dollar industry that drives much of New York City’s economy, but you (should) probably care about how you look at your next job interview. Wear the blue tie.

The author is a Columbia College sophomore majoring in anthropology and concentrating in art history. She is the editor-in-chief of Hoot Magazine, co-costume designer of the Varsity Show, and co-director of the CSC Lunar Gala fashion show.