I’m going to be honest now. I have never understood fashion labels. For me, labels are for food items and corrosive materials. They’re useful in telling me what is in that suspicious looking container as well as informing me what flavour jam I might have purchased. Of course, my clothes do come with labels. I’m not a freak. Only, these labels usually tell me what size I am and have tiny little symbols on them which are apparently supposed to enlighten me on how they should be washed. Fashion labels, however, are a whole different ball game. A ball game I choose not to participate in. (I never was one for sport) These kinds of labels are for skinny Minnies who know what variety of legging is in this season and can afford to treat Topshop like a thrift store.
Last week, H&M launched their Versace Cruise Collection. Described lazily as ‘classically Versace’ (well, obviously), it was revealed that the collection would feature a range of items, from cardigans to ballet shoes. In the anticipation of release, Fashionistas everywhere waited with baited breath. What would these fashion masterpieces look like?
They looked awful. Yes, what wasn’t revealed is that all of these items would be ostensibly made from the same horrific material, adorned with berries and butterflies and other stereotypically twee embellishments. Having seemingly hired Maria Von Trapp as a designer, the pieces look like they were made out of curtains only deemed fashionable in Austria in the Second World War. Perhaps not the look they were aiming for. Still, the clothing flew off the virtual shelves! On the day of release, the H&M website actually crashed with the sheer amount of Versace grabbing and it wasn’t long before everything had a whacking great Sold Out sign upon it.
It still baffles me. Fashion labels do not make women happy. They think they need those Jimmy Choos and Prada jeans to make them happy, but much of this is due to the cruelty of marketing. Nice shoes don’t get you Nobel peace prizes and cures for cancer. If anything, they make you walk funny and hide in your wardrobe for years on end because you can’t bear the pain of wearing them again. In times of economic recession, how can I justify paying sixty five pounds for a vest purely because it was designed by someone whose name I can’t even pronounce?
My advice is to simply lie. Put together a little outfit by Primark, accessorise with household items and pretend your new ensemble is a Gucci creation. If you like, you can even write ‘Gucci’ on the label for complete authenticity. No doubt you’ll look like you’ve just stepped off the catwalk at Milan. Take that, fashion!
