BY MEAGAN HU

In print | Published February 28, 2008

London is a city steeped in history. The winding, confusing mazes of roads that compose much of the city streets follow the paths that the Romans first constructed more than two millennia ago. It is still the residence of a much-loved monarch, who, while she now has only ceremonial significance, represents the oldest form of government in the UK. The Queen’s guards, stone-faced under their bearskin hats (despite repeated PETA protests) as they watch over Buckingham Palace, are physical manifestations of this unwavering tradition. But perhaps the most prevalent and relevant persistence of the past is the deep-seated English penchant for eccentricity and irony. A recent Vanity Fair piece by Christopher Hitchens documented the prevalence of this particular brand of wit among the British upper class, a fitting reminder if any of the persistence and seeming anachronism of old English aristocracy in today’s world. The Marquis of Bath, for example, is known as “Loins of Longleat” because of his 64 mistresses to whom he refers as “wifelets.” And then there is Sir George Reresby, who according to the article, created a “miniature revolver for the special purpose of shooting wasps.”

Perhaps it is true, as the article suggests, that the British upper class can do this because cultivating eccentricity requires a certain amount of leisure time. And if it’s leisure we’re talking about, then of course we must look at the fashion. The late aristocratic fashion icon Isabella Blow, for example, was famous for the crazy hats she wore, which were created by the milliner whom she discovered, Philip Treacy. Almost daily, she wore eccentric sculptural displays atop her head (a pair of red lips the size of her face, a mini replica of an 18th century French ship, a lobster) that made her look like a living animation. She was responsible for discovering and mentoring the controversial designer Alexander McQueen, whose first collection in 1992 introduced a low-cut style of pants that he called “bumsters,” which re-imagined cleavage for those other lady lumps. That same year, Vivienne Westwood, who brought punk into the mainstream, went commando in a dress, which people discovered when she twirled around in the courtyard of Buckingham Palace after being knighted by the Queen. It was an incident that the Queen herself apparently found amusing. Interestingly, Christian Siriano (fierce y’all) has worked for both designers while at fashion school in London. I hardly think it is coincidental that he is also one of the top contenders to win Project Runway.

But this eccentricity and sarcasm is not just reserved for the upper crust. It exists in all levels of English society. Indeed, what makes British fashion so unique and unlike that of most other cities is the fact that there is less of a divide between street fashion and high fashion. For example, Gareth Pugh, Christopher Kane and Henry Holland, all emerging designers who are fast becoming big names in the fashion world, are all still closely tied to the youthful London party scene that inspired them before they made it big. Holland, for example, got his start when he and model/BFF Agyness Deyn decided to make t-shirts in his apartment silk-screened with dirty rhymes about fashion designers and models: “My Flies are Undone Lily Donaldson,” “Give us a Tickle, Richard Nicoll” (Racier slogans can be found on his website. Mummy reads this, after all). And just last week he established himself as a legitimate designer in his first show at London Fashion Week, in a collection that was filled with tartan prints that recalled an aristocratic English sensibility interpreted with street sense.

Who knows how long Henry Holland’s fame will last, but his sudden appearance onto the fashion scene, coupled with his humorous designs, are testament to the playful, do-it-yourself spirit that make the streets of London a veritable runway in itself. People thrive on seeing and being seen in a way that shows the individualism that makes this a city of creations rather than copies. And perhaps the most unique aspect of this is that these changes and this sense of modernity do not outshine the past, but rather pay tribute to it and play alongside it. It’s a respect for tradition in a whimsical sort of way. After all, everyone still reveres the Queen of England, but she’s probably likely to get more attention and respect nowadays for the fact that she likes playing her grandson’s Nintendo Wii (Sports Bowling, apparently) than for executing her monarchical duties. And for that, I say long live the Queen.

Meagan is a senior. You can reach her at mhu1@swarthmore.edu.

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