Fashion Rocks

These days everyone wants to be a rock star--those who can do, all others design. Speaking of which, John Varvatos opened his newest store on April 7, in the former New York landmark CBGB/OMFUG. While running in diametric opposite of last year's Tom Ford's piss-swosh opening, Varvatos' newest store promises to be just as hyped.

For those of you who do not live in NYC and may have never heard of CBGB, here's the abbreviated back story. CBGB (Country Bluegrass Blues and Other Music For Uplifting Gormandizers) was opened in 1973 in the Bowery, a no man’s land where derelicts, prostitutes and drug addicts once called home sweet home--that was before gentrification hit the lower East Side. The bar and music venue quickly caught on with the music’s burgeoning punk culture, attracting artists like Patti Smith, The Ramones, Blondie, Mink Deville The Talking Heads, The Velvet Underground and the Dead Kennedys. Middle-class suburbanites from Jersey flocked in droves to gape at the punks, score drugs, and defecate in the toilets. Post Studio 54, it was the place to OD if you were anybody. So infamous was it that just surviving the restrooms and stepping over the rat poop gave one instantaneous street cred. Ah, sweet youth. Life was so much simpler. CBGB became an institution, but tastes change. Blondie is 63 now, and punk music has gone the way of hot pink striped Mohawks and black rubber gasket bracelets. Despite its importance to the music scene, the club closed a few years ago when escalating rents forced its closure.

Varvatos may not be a social historian or landmark preservationist, however, given what could have gone into the space it may be a far better site to have a retailer like him than the generic Gap or Duane Reade. Varvatos has fumigated, taken down the stage, but left the graffiti collaged walls and vintage LPs nailed into it in tact. They are now encased under a sheath of glass. The walls, like hieroglyphics, are wheat pasted thick with neon colored ads made at local copy shops in poison pen font, artfully ripped and revealing a kind of runic poetry, which traces the history of the modern music industry. The chewed up floors, black sprayed ceilings, and grit and grime remain as artfully preserved as King Tut’s tomb. The toilet stalls have thankfully been removed and much of the original contents have already been auctioned off on eBay. Where sweaty bodies once careened in mosh pits and warm beer was served has been replaced by Varvatos’ hang-and-fold fixtures filled with jeans, $190 cashmere t-shirts, $130 suede blazers, $1,600 fragrance and accessories. The former postage-stamp sized stage is now a tailoring shop.

There is a spirit of youth in Varvatos' fine designs; however, no one that ever went to CBGB would be caught dead in his clothing. That being said, Varvatos is a talent. Varvatos is relevant. He’s one of a handful of American designers who remains authentic. His works epitomize a fashion dialectic that is classic, casual and sexy. The man knows how to cut a pair of jeans. But all of that is at odds with the store. The venue was ground zero for post-teen rebellion. It was anti-establishment, rank and vile. The fusion of fashion and music could work very well if the store was filled with some off-the-beaten-track heroin chic designers; however, Varvatos works from a distinctively different aesthetic that is astute, and appeals to a clean, urbane athleticism. Varvatos deserves kudos for the inventiveness and exuberance expressed in the store interior; unfortunately he cannot take credit for it. Still, I guess I’d rather see him there than at some lousy mall.

--Ron Knoth, Guest Blogger