The Four Ages of Fashion

Hello,

So for some reason my original post/ introduction doesn't seem to be up here, i'll try and rectify that asap but in the mean time my name is Matt, i'm 23, i'm straight, i like to write.

Now i'm going to cheat a little bit with the answer to the two recent questions posed about London and New York. Please note that this is not becasue i'm lazy, it's just that i think i can kill two birds with one stone.

There seems to be a fairly well defined set of stages within the fashion world that are represented by the four main fashion capitals, sort of like the four ages of fashion. They run in the following order:

Firstly, London.
London is the birth place of innovative fashion, the enfant terrible, the sulking teenager. This is the place to come if you want to be different, if you want to be noticed, it's where you come to go through fashion puberty. Each year the colleges of London give birth to hundreds of naive, awkward, gangly designers trying desperately to get their foot on the first rung of the ladder. In London a designer is free to do whatever they please, to show off, to shock, to scream for attention. It's the fashion equivalent of a child standing on its head in the middle of a family gathering; all the adults smiling dismissively at the precocious youth. The adults know that in a few years they'll have matured and will be embarrassed when reminded of their behaviour. It's this spirit though that makes London what it is, a breeding ground for dangerously exciting creativity.

Next comes Paris.
The spotty teenager's skin has cleared up and they are no longer so desperate to shock. Mindful of the incredible couture heritage that floods the city with romance, the designers are mindful not to mar things with brash, provocative statements. The adult's approval at the family gathering is still important but where there were once acrobatics, there is now an affected air of sophistication that is almost, but not quite right.

From Paris to New York and a coming of age.
New York is where lives in fashion are made. There's no childish innocence to fall back on. No Gallic indifference to hide behind. Either you make it here or you don't. New York is where shit goes down. By this time, you won't be standing on your head at the family gathering because it'll be you whose organising it. New York is the sophisticated adult that London hadn't realised existed and Paris tried so hard to be. It doesn't care about letting everyone know how dangerous or sophisticated it is, it just does it, and it does it better than any other city on the planet.

Finally, Milan.
Milan is the final stage in the four ages of fashion because it's where the serious players reside. The break neck speed and cut throat nature of New York has slowed to a reverential pace that speaks of confidence, maturity and security. Milan doesn't care about shock tactics. It doesn't care about feined sophistication and it doesn't care about success because it's been there and it's done it all. What Milan cares about is design, beauty and style. New York might have been organising the family get together, but only because it was Milan's wedding anniversary.