DKMI Heil Team Style

I have worked backstage and front-of-house during Fashion Week, and, though I am not of late working for a living designer, just being in Manhattan right now means you can’t help but be inspired by the possibilities of what will be.  But, there’s plenty of time to make sense of next year’s fashions – this week’s Fall/Winter runway trends won’t begin to hit stores until July or even complete their delivery until late October or so.

Never one to be lacking in originality points, let me herald the arrival of Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week by bypassing New York’s catwalks in favor of the equally cosmopolitan and inspirational parade of fashions from the Olympic Games opening ‘Parade of Nations’ ceremony.

It is no small feat that Olympians train even when not actively competing, and successfully working in wholesale fashion demands a similar spirit and appreciation of warping seasons.  Case in point:  While next Winter’s collections are on view to buyers, we are approving mark-downs on ‘last season’s‘ Winter styles as this season’s Spring orders are completing their delivery to stores (by 4/15!) and decisions on fabrics for pre-Spring or Resort are again underway.  Even though it would seem it should be all too easy to become discombobulated in such a blurred state of seasons past, present and future, focusing on an event that occurs every four years feels manageably topical, if not especially timely.

Designing for the Olympics is nothing new.  In gear from Roots to Rodarte, the Olympians have never looked better.  At this year’s opening ceremony, an impressive roster of celebrity entertainers performed in custom-designed DSquared creations. But, as is done before and post any runway showing, my eyes were fixated off-stage.

It is a fact that, in New York, experiencing what the crowd at a fashion presentation is wearing is (sadly?) as much a part of the show as the runway fashions themselves.  You would never see the guest list conform to one another’s style – lest you threaten individuality, the very thing that, here, guarantees fitting-in.  It’s not, however, from this perspective alone that I was startled by the Vancouver crowd’s uniform donning of white ponchos:  While the virtual effect was beautiful, with the tiered stadium visually transformed by 60,000 spectators into a white backdrop meant to mimic the city’s snow-covered mountains, from a televised vantage, I could not help but see what appeared to be an insanely massive KKK gathering.

I then watched as each of the 82 competing nations was led into the stadium by fashion models cloaked in Moschino white hooded A-line puffers (that, by the way, were also benignly designed to resemble a snow top).

Further adding insult to injury, many of the models – in this case, the Olympians – sported a black armband in memory of the would-be contestant from Georgia, and greeted the crowd with a raised, one-arm salute.  Only the addition of a quarter of a mustache to the athletes’ upper lip could have been more suspect and likely to elicit responsive ‘Heils’ from the stands.

Color me Jewish and sensitive to war crimes – my mother was born in a concentration camp (don’t fret, she now shops at Neiman’s with the best of them).  But don’t put me in a hooded white anything or give me a black armband to wear, in a room where somebody is (or is likely to be) wearing the same thing.

BRONZE:

Even though I may be steadfast with respect to my individuality, I am very much a team player.

I appreciated Team Switzerland’s striped belts, cleverly influenced by the multi-stripe knit band you’d find on a varsity jacket.  More than I did Team Russia’s overtly Americanized ensemble of baseball cap, cowhide-sleeved varsity jacket, denim and sneakers.  Was Team Russia mocking the United States or defending themselves to those in the global community whom question whether the Cold War is really over?   In any case, the team’s outfit exceeded at overkill but made no fashion statement.

Uniforms worn by Teams France and Hungary looked great, courtesy of Adidas, but were, side from their colors, inexplicably identical in design.

It is, go figure, Team Germany that takes the medal, for looking like a team while retaining individuality.  Worn over a bright yellow track jacket, their black and white multi-pocketed zip-up vests, democratically color-blocked in fluorescent blue for the boys and pink for the girls, and spelling T-E-A-M across the chest, were literally inspiring.  To someone like me in the sales side of the fashion business, fit and functionality is of great import and I appreciated that the women’s vests were proportioned differently than the men’s and that Adidas effectively utilized color to highlight the many pockets and zippers (that appeared to be well-positioned).

SILVER:

The teams not outfitted in Adidas were curiously formal in their approach.  Albeit less formal than a blazer, whose buttons are tone-on-tone or the same color as the base fabric, the sport jacket was by far the biggest ‘trend’ of the ceremony.

Teams from Austria and Bermuda looked outright laughable in their flight attendant-like jackets (think polyester, worn back to a white dress shirt and solid tie or neck-scarf for the women) – and this declaration came well before I even picked up on why the latter team was wearing (bermuda) shorts.

The men of Team Great Britain followed suit (black pinstripe, actually) and the women teammates juxtaposed the dark pant with a white 2-button closure safari pocketed jacket.

Regrettably, ALL of the above failed to style their jackets.

My gold medal-worthy unisex styling rule is to ALWAYS leave the last button of an un-tucked garment undone, be it a shirt, a coat, a cardigan or a blazer.  This styling mandate is for for all seasons and for anyone from ages 1 to 92; following it will not make you look sloppy or unkempt but, instead, project that you are comfortable in your own clothes.  And know how to wear them.

So, if it’s a 3-button suit jacket (which, in men’s circles is going, if not already out, in favor of a 1- or 2-button version), either the top two or just the center button should be closed….but NEVER include the last button into the mix.  It follows, then, that for a 2-button garment ONLY the top button should be closed.  Hugely on-trend right now is the most formal double breasted jacket; this cut also benefits from strategically leaving the bottom corner button undone.  If you have a coat that is button-less but with a French (or two-way) zipper, the bottom zipper should be pulled up from the hem at least an inch, and up to a foot high.

Note: The one exception to the above is for a ladies black-tie or evening suit jacket, where you are likely to find over-sized decorative or jeweled buttons that can look too bulky or hang heavy and pull-on or compromise the fabric if left unsecured.

Of all the athletes who made the decision to button-up for the opening ceremony, only Teams Italy and USA succeeded in their efforts.

Team Italy’s militaristic look may have been channeling Mussolini, but Italian style proved supremely elegant, with the last (one to two) buttons of their longer, 4-button ticker-pocketed top coats strategically – and stylishly – left undone.

GOLD:

Possibly using the same backstage team of stylists secured for his upcoming runway show in New York, Ralph Lauren managed to ensure that the last snap on each and every Team USA members’ cropped black Polo ski puffer was perfectly un-buttoned.  In some cases, the zipper sharing the placket was also inched up from the hem.

Considering the competition was outfitted in extremes, Team USA’s sporty outerwear was particularly fresh atop the more traditional tonal base layers of an off-white cable-knit turtleneck taken back to a winter white fleece bottom.  A pairing of the color white that I am most comfortable with.

And, a winning look that would hold its own even amongst a New York crowd.

BONUS:

Nordic or Fair Isle knit accents were abound at the Parade of Nations.  Team USA happened to be sporting a great hat in the print.

Well, this week’s New York runways carried forward the look, as seen at Marc Jacobs and Rag & Bone to Yigal Azrouel.

So, take care not to lose the arctic-themed mittens, scarves, hats, etc., that you already own.  Or, best yet, considering that current styles are now marked down and on sale, in expectation of being on-trend next Winter, may you be inspired to shop off-season.

DKMI A Mile In My Shoes

Even in Manhattan there are bargains to be uncovered.  And shared.

Imagine how thrilled I was to find operating as a clearance center the Filene’s Basement located on Ladies Mile – the nostalgic name for the stretch of 6th Avenue from 14th to 23rd Street where the city’s first department stores flourished specifically as a result of Civil War-era society’s then-novel allowance of women to shop by themselves or with each other, sans male accompaniment.  The neighborhood’s current reputation for housing a high concentration of discounters or off-pricers, such as Loehmann’s, is actually not really a recent incarnation:  As urban planning and development necessitated a geographical move uptown for the city’s premiere department stores, their vacated high ceiling buildings would come to perfectly accommodate fabric suppliers and traders’ multi-yard-high bolts and, in-turn, localize jobbers (or clothing wholesalers) who required competitive and timely access to those base materials.

Although what was once referred to as downtown is now more-so midtown, you just need to understand that you don’t have to shop uptown to be fashionable.

In general, I personally don’t buy much at Filene’s Basement because the limited amount of high-end designer ‘Vault’ merchandise that they carry, which emanates mostly from the venerable Connecticut specialty store giant Richards (or, for the women, from its sister-store Mitchells), is usually priced too high to be enjoyed (or afforded) by this savvy shopper.  And, as it goes, I’m certainly not the only one to feel this way:  This Filene’s location will formally shutter March 6^th after – gasp! – losing its lease.

My bankbook (like yours?) is currently on a recession so I suppose it’s still worth the time to visit the basement space before then (yes, this Filene’s is actually in the basement of a building), though, in advance, be prepared to feel as if you’ve missed out, as there is already a lack of merchandise, highlighted by lots of vacant racks.  To further forewarn, there is an unforgiving Final Sale policy in effect.  And, while I will continue to pop in the nearby Union Square Filene’s when in this area and will inevitably re-visit the 79^th & Broadway store once it’s expansion is complete at the end of this year (slated for August), I’m all too happy to announce here the replacement tenant, coming this April:  Marshalls.

In the interim, upstairs, in addition to Bed, Bath & Beyond, you’ll find Marshalls’ sibling and doppleganger, TJ Maxx, my reliable favorite for ‘necessities’ always priced well below retail, be they my Ralph Lauren boxer shorts or Village Candle Company jarred candles (don’t become complacent with ANY other candle or look-alike brand such as Yankee or Colonial).  This location just finished renovating its store, complete with a newly expanded home furnishings section (where you’ll find the Village candles) and a red fleet of pushable mini-sized shopping carts to boot (while this branch’s limited number of oft-broken and difficult-to-maneuver traditional gray carts remains available for use, their hand held shopping baskets are, thankfully, no longer.  Who really liked lugging their finds around in those baskets anyways?).

Know that the chain’s buyers purchase on such a large scale that, regardless of which state you live in, there really is product uniformity across all stores (I buy my boxers and candles in the Michigan stores, too).  And, even if you don’t live in or plan to visit New York City anytime soon, you’ll be able to experience the best of it at your local TJ Maxx, being that 57^th Street’s Bergdorf Goodman is one of the main suppliers of TJ’s designer goods.  This means that even on a budget you truly can shop high-end labels.  In future blogs I will reveal how to make the most of your discount shopping excursions.  There happens to be more to it than just luck.

Embracing the evolution of Ladies Mile definitely makes for good cents and sense.  In the same vein, I’m offering a concession to all the single ladies:  If you’ll have me, I’m open to shopping alongside you!

BONUS:

As proof that my good palette extends beyond fashion, enjoy: Casaville, 633 Second Avenue (between 34th & 35th Sts), 212.685.8558

Upon entering through this French-Moroccan tapas restaurant and bar’s velvet red curtains, and once seated inside, I always feel outside of New York, like I’m in the Marais district of Paris, and privy to eating where only the locals do.  The sexy candle-lit decor or the eclectic, sometimes Euro-trash-like clientele definitely detaches me from the fact that I am only blocks from my studio.

To start, order one of their specialty cocktails: my favorite is the East Cider (Kettle One Vodka, Navan Vanilla Liqueur, Warm Apple Cider).  Food-wise, their escargot, served traditional style, and the honey and grape-baked brie are unforgettable, as are main courses, such as the grilled salmon Brochettes (or skewers) served with couscous, beets and spiced carrots or the ‘Casaville’ burger with monchego cheese and a side of freshly hand-cut fries (Note: I order both the salmon and the beef rare).  For dessert, enjoy the warmed poached pear in chocolate sauce or the pudding-come-soufflé ‘Chocolate Pot.’

The reasonable prices are a bargain you would be hard-pressed to find in Paris, let alone alone Manhattan, so, Bon Appetit!  Say hello to chef-owner Lahsen or the manager, Sarah.  Be sure to tell them how happy you are that I sent you their way.

DKMI 2010 GRAMMY AWARDS FOLLOW-UP

Never one to advocate hit-and-runs, let me backtrack to where we left off (last post dated 2/1):

Being that this inaugural post comes post-Grammy’s, before Joan Rivers shares her fashion review tonight, let me just declare:

The Grammy’s are like the Rotten Tomatoes awards – the worst of the worst of fashion was on display last night.  Style-wise, 90% of musicians have none or just bad taste.  100% of the country music stars had dress disasters.

So, at the feared risk of single-handedly challenging my reputation, in protest of the E! Red Carpet Fashion Police and their voting both of my LEAST favorite looks – and country stars, nonetheless – as ‘Best Dressed’ – YES, REALLY! – I am ballsing up and offering a follow-up post to let you in on what I saw.  Know that my plan to comment on fashion still comes from a place of good intentions but it feels especially necessary to – sigh, once again – speak out.

As Tracy Chapman teaches in the song ‘Bridges,’ “Sometimes the best intentions still don’t make things right.”  The sentiment is directed, in this moment, to E!’s ‘Best Dressed’ winners Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood.  And trust me, I NEVER thought I would be addressing anything about either (I really don’t care for country music, side for some Willy Nelson now and then).  To salvage face with the dress designers, whose overall aesthetic I respect, I ultimately chose NOT to specify their names/labels in this hallowed space.  Though, should you encourage me to include them within this blog, I am open to de-editing the below post for your benefit and opting for more transparency in future reports.  Because, sometimes the best intentions still don’t make things right.

Taylor Swift in XxxxxxxXxxxxx:

In this dress, with its sea green turquoise color, and, with her blonde locks wave-swept to the side, T. S. looks exactly like the mermaid from the Chicken of the Sea advertising campaign.  The large square cutout at the breast line is too harsh (emphasized by the non-proportionally narrow shoulder straps) for such a classically-silhouetted gown.  Part-nostalgic (the Chicken of the Sea campaign was conceived in the early ’50′s) and part-futuristic (high-sheen sequins and creative bust cutout) usually successfully breeds ‘modern,’ but here, the result is pageantry tackiness.  I suppose it is fitting that I find the dress awkwardly reminiscent of a fish out of water.

Carrie Underwood in Xxxxxxx by Xxxxxxx Xxxxxx:

C. U., in this design, looks like a 3/4′s-unwrapped mummy.  The asymmetrical silk bust line coupled with the odd-lengthed and -placed silver leather straps, flatten her chest a la bandages on a breast implant patient.  She likely tried to get out of the dress but had to keep it on once the straps became tangled and just too difficult to maneuver over the shoulder.  Here, again, old (mummies circa ancient Egypt) and forward-thinking (unusual placement of the straps) pair together as awkwardly as do [this dress'] silk chiffon and metallic leather.

In a karmic balancing effort, I’ve humbly opted to focus on two dress ‘standouts.’  Mind you that, at the Grammy’s, this title is difficult to place/award.  It is, of course, no coincidence that my appreciation of both selections hearkens back to my Michigan roots:

Fergie in Xxxxxx Xxxxx:

Sexy, sexy.  This blue dress shows off her great legs (it was near-to-vag short) and the gold strap detail, which looks best from behind, perfectly silhouettes her upper curves.  Let’s here it for maize and blue (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor is my alma matter).  And, my high school colors were gold and blue.  So there.

Ne-Yo in Xxxxx & Xxxxxxx-

Though his outfit was degraded as too ‘pimp’ by Joan Rivers and crew, the Detroit in me appreciates the white tie back to white shoes, and the black and white print scarf, tucked under the lapel of his tux.  His arrival and walk down the red carpet with two women notwithstanding, fine materials and proper fit trump any pre-conceived associations with this descriptor.  To whit, my father, a physician, embodies this principle, be he donning custom-fitted suits and handmade french-cuffed shirts or casual wear replete with brightly colored exotic accessories (snakeskin, eel, crocodile) and Coogi (or, to offer-up a more fashionable spin, Missoni-like) knits.

You can take the boy out of the inner-city but…

BONUS:

LOVED: Ashanti in Xxxx Xxxx Xxxxxxx, who shows class and cool can go hand-in-hand

LIKED: Keri Hilson in Xxxxx & Xxxxxxx, whose dress and jewelry paired together perfectly, though maybe better suited for an affair more classy than the Grammy Awards

DKMI

DKMI

Who I am is not what you will come to know in this blog…

Having prefaced with that, this blog is called ‘DKMI’ because 1) my initials are D.K. and 2) growing up in (the suburbs of) Detroit, Michigan (MI), my “best” was always equated to NY.  Couple being the artist and creative one since pre-school and an obtained interest in fashion, formed from a confessedly obsessed focus on how people dress and what is cool or not and why, left me with this nickname before I knew what to do with it.  ‘DKMI’ because people would always say to me, “You need to be in New York” or “I see you in SoHo,” as if this would alleviate my angst or somehow normalize who I was.  Note:  I am now happy and comfortable living, for years, in Midtown East, though, with a preference to get closer to Gramercy (which is only blocks away).  In the same vein, I love Michigan.  My parents, eldest sister and her family and friends-who-are-like-family live there.  I still know people working in the store where I first got to test my sales chops.  I continue to do my best clothes shopping and wardrobe building in Michigan.   And I am proud of this!  There’s more to the nickname, but, my innate and learned fashion sense, together with my now working in New York City in the business of fashion, provides for the play-on-cities-title ‘DKMI.’

This fashion and popular culture blog, much like my realization of a life in New York, will (necessarily) evolve, so, I am open to hearing from those that know me: what do you think I know best?  For others turned on to this (a boy can dream), what do you want to know about style and fashion?  Actually, I’m counting on your replies!  (My first post and already I’m reminded how easy it is to be narcissistic, to catch myself wanting validation:  “But, enough about me.  Tell me what you think of me.”)

Know that this is difficult because, as public a person I am by day, I am wholly private.  When you’re single in New York City, as empowering the proposition, the reality is much time spent alone.  Not lonely, but, alone.  I am innately social.  But comfortably single come night.  I enjoy using my eyes to make sense of the world and it is easy to default on this front, to continue the research as a solo endeavor.  To observe and report, if you will.  My takes on style are framed from years of looking from the outside.  We all seek validation but I always believed that once I was in New York that all would fall into place.  Imagine, peace in a city as crazed and migrant as NY.  I now know that it’s not where you are but how you got there.  My eyes are of the world.  And, I’d like to translate them to print.

Because I am in the business, working for and alongside some of the biggest fashion names, I have to advise that I don’t and won’t kiss and tell!  In highschool, I was voted Most Likely To Write for the National Enquirer not because I gossip but because I was friends with so many different or random people that I was inevitably always in-the-know.   Being able to make sense of and respect many types of styles helps in crossing between different groups and people.

Be my friend, won’t you?  I have to clarify that I am in the fashion business even if not always in the scene.   But my fashion know-how is legitimate and will be explained as necessary and when without fear of litigation.  Still…family members be forewarned.  Jk (‘just kidding.’  Not my mother’s initials, hah!).  From the get, let me confess, I owe to my European parents my eyes:  My attention-to-detail to my mother, my discount shopping muse, who always made me look at two of the same thing, to compare to one another and inspect for defects; and, to my father, my taste level, for exposing me to the best, be it clothing, food, travel or education.  And my older sisters, in particular, who made their younger brother just insecure enough to set out to make sense of their opinions.  So, while I recognize that I will naturally be sharing who I am in reaching far back into my childhood to explain how I came to know what I know, this blog can’t and won’t share all of me with you.  Though I am sharing me for the benefit of [insert noun].   (Hopefully you inserted your name.)  This is a blog for the fashion outsider deep within each of us.

BONUS:

Being that this inaugural post comes post-Grammy’s, before Joan Rivers shares her fashion review tonight, let me just declare:

The Grammy’s are like the Rotten Tomatoes awards – the worst of the worst of fashion was on display last night.  Style-wise, 90% of musicians have none or just bad taste.  100% of the country music stars had dress disasters.