08/08/07
Text: Jess Scully
LOVER
We had an institution in this country in the late 1970s and early 1980s (around the time we were all chubby and cute) called Pixifoto. It was a simple operation: bored photographers toured suburban shopping malls, armed with backdrops of snow-capped mountains and a truckload of patience, shooting snotty kids in their Sunday best. I have more than a few photos of myself, in velvet pinafores and frilly lace shirts, grinning gap-toothed in front of falling leaves.
They might cringe at the comparison, but that’s what Lover is to me. Yes, it’s classic and beautiful, fresh and desirable, but also comforting and familiar. A dorky kind of cute, a new interpretation of your favorite dress as a kid. Over the past six years designers Susien Chong and Nic Briand have turned their shared passion for old music and movies into the label every Aussie girl wants to wear (we’re not the only ones: chicks like Joanna Newsom and Rachel Bilson are into it too). Their current Altamont collection is best showcased in a short film called Waiting for Mick: long haired chicks in thick woven tights, sheer lace dresses and short denim pinafores lounge backstage, lovingly, longingly, anticipating the arrival of the object of their affection. They’re the big sisters whose wardrobes and record collections I wish I’d inherited.
MATERIAL BOY
While our advertising executives conspire to convince you that this big brown land is populated by rugged, unwashed and heroically macho characters, the truth is this: our cities are packed with sissy boys. Steve Irwin and Mick Dundee aside, the modern Aussie male of Melbourne’s alleyways and Sydney’s pub scene is far more likely to be found wearing a pair of print leggings and fluorescent cardigan than sweat-stained khakis.
We can lay the blame (or thanks) for this style shift squarely at Mic Eaton’s label, Material Boy. First, his super-tight, super-low crutched jeans had the sneaker set walking like penguins. Next, his vomit-inspired technicolor yawn collection introduced guys to the idea that color—all of them at once, preferably—wasn’t just for chicks. This season, his edict: “embrace your inner gay”. For Mic, this affectionate tribute to the new man takes the form of fuchsia stirrup-pants, oversized cobalt shirts with acid lime detailing, accessorized with black nail polish and fake lashes. I can live with it, as long as it doesn’t make my boyfriend look prettier than me.
GAIL SORRONDA
A favorite Aussie phrase: the ‘good sort’. It denotes a female, usually a good looking one, who has a sense of humor. A complimentary phrase (which usually follows) is to be described as being ‘good value’. This fiscal-sounding flattery means the good sort in question isn’t ‘up herself’ with some inflated sense of self worth (a capital offense around these parts), but instead can hold her own in an argument, arm wrestle or drinking contest, no wucking forries.
Gail Reid is definitely a good sort. To start with she’s got a killer laugh, the kind of hearty gleeful hee-haw that means she really means it, and as a former model she’s as cute as they come. The thing that really tips her into good value territory is the fact that she has an alter ego, a dark side: Gail Sorronda. While Reid decks herself out in multi-colored sequined vintage finds and wears plastic toys on string as jewelery, Sorronda is severe and sexy. Sorronda dresses in black and white, plays up as a flirty French maid or a bird-like 1940s vamp. Sorronda has just opened her first store in her hometown of Brisbane while Reid is ready to take on the world, the first stop being a show in (suitably dramatic) Berlin at the end of the year. Whichever of these personalities win out, Gail is onto a good thing.
ROMANCE WAS BORN
While you were gluing macaroni onto paper plates in kindergarten Australian pre-schoolers used their art hour to engage in more vital defensive maneuvers. At a young age each of us is instructed in the art of suburban camouflage in preparation for Magpie season. For a few months of the year it’s not uncommon to see children running across parks, streets and sports grounds with plastic ice cream buckets as hats—googly eyes and gaping mouths painted on top—to ward off attacks from the vicious swooping birds.
This colorful local tradition is one of the key inspirations for Romance Was Born, an equally colorful young label that is Australia’s answer to Bernard Willhelm. Designers Anna Plunkett and Luke Sales are “romantic about everything”, from the ugly nylon leisure suits they wore as pre-teens to those painted protective hats. “A friend in fashion asked if we had decided on our colors for the next season,” Anna says, “We were like, er, all of them?” They’ve transformed their all-encompassing enthusiasm into wild looks for the likes of Karen O, Lily Allen and Architecture in Helsinki, while their recent Australian Fashion Week show (based on 80s geek fantasy, Weird Science) took designer dork to new heights. Hologram tights, bunny hoodies and high-waisted stonewash denim were paired with prints from artist Del Kathryn Barton, providing high-voltage shocks any mad scientist would be thrilled by.
