2008 Woodie Awards
Rural Banter
BY ERICA GOODMAN
Issue date: 2/17/05 Section: Local News
- Page 1 of 1
As those who lust for labels and pricy garments may know, last week New York City hosted its annual fall preview fashion week. Designers from around the globe exhibited their latest and greatest material masterpieces - Ralph Lauren, Donna Karen, Vera Wang, John Deere. OK, so maybe the last is a stretch. The agricultural machinery giant has yet to make an appearance on the catwalk. Yet I am convinced that there is a conspiracy brewing.
The names filling the aisle in the local farm apparel store may someday be written in lights above the runways of Manhattan. Laugh not. Area 51 has got nothing on this one.
The first wave of the sinister plot came with the infiltration of clothing generally reserved for the rugged rural worker into the youth generation. Dickies were perfect for the rebel skateboarder, the durable material hardy enough to survive numerous bails onto the pavement.
The heavy-duty denim Carhartt work jean, appreciated by many a farmer milking his cows on a chilly Vermont night was easily adopted by the wannabe woodsman. The company's oversized hoodies traveled beyond the mean streets of small-town America to keep the inner-city hip-hop culture cozy.
Phase two took a step beyond fashion integration. The indigenous rural fashions gave rise to suburbanized interpretations. The John Deere (who, by the way, spent his young life in our very own Middlebury, Vt.) logo was strategically placed at the center of the T-shirt and trucker hat phenomenon. One would be not hard pressed to find the emerald green and gold emblem plastered in the window of any "hip" clothing store or branding the front of a cute, pink hat adorning the head of a Middlebury student.
Steel-toed boots, most practical for working with heavy machinery, overtook the urban style market. Could Lugz really be a subversive satellite of a more powerful rural manufacturer? Who knows, but I do wonder if the title for Russell Simmons's clothing line, Phat Farm, is merely a coincidence. I think not.
Attempts to bring fashion to the farm have been less successful. An Armani suit costs nearly as much as 10,000 tons of hay, but is highly impractical for farm endeavors.
Ever try driving a tractor in stiletto heels? And when a farmer wakes up at 3 a.m. to milk his cows, the last thing on his mind is whether or not his Ralph Lauren Polo is properly popped.
For the fashion snobs out there, beware. The wave of farm trends is coming to a runway near you.
The names filling the aisle in the local farm apparel store may someday be written in lights above the runways of Manhattan. Laugh not. Area 51 has got nothing on this one.
The first wave of the sinister plot came with the infiltration of clothing generally reserved for the rugged rural worker into the youth generation. Dickies were perfect for the rebel skateboarder, the durable material hardy enough to survive numerous bails onto the pavement.
The heavy-duty denim Carhartt work jean, appreciated by many a farmer milking his cows on a chilly Vermont night was easily adopted by the wannabe woodsman. The company's oversized hoodies traveled beyond the mean streets of small-town America to keep the inner-city hip-hop culture cozy.
Phase two took a step beyond fashion integration. The indigenous rural fashions gave rise to suburbanized interpretations. The John Deere (who, by the way, spent his young life in our very own Middlebury, Vt.) logo was strategically placed at the center of the T-shirt and trucker hat phenomenon. One would be not hard pressed to find the emerald green and gold emblem plastered in the window of any "hip" clothing store or branding the front of a cute, pink hat adorning the head of a Middlebury student.
Steel-toed boots, most practical for working with heavy machinery, overtook the urban style market. Could Lugz really be a subversive satellite of a more powerful rural manufacturer? Who knows, but I do wonder if the title for Russell Simmons's clothing line, Phat Farm, is merely a coincidence. I think not.
Attempts to bring fashion to the farm have been less successful. An Armani suit costs nearly as much as 10,000 tons of hay, but is highly impractical for farm endeavors.
Ever try driving a tractor in stiletto heels? And when a farmer wakes up at 3 a.m. to milk his cows, the last thing on his mind is whether or not his Ralph Lauren Polo is properly popped.
For the fashion snobs out there, beware. The wave of farm trends is coming to a runway near you.