Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty

Alexander McQueen dress The Horn of Plenty, autumn/winter 2009–10

Photography by Sølve Sundsbø via The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Go to the Met. Pay what you wish. See Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty.

The exhibition of about a hundred ensembles and seventy accessories by the self-described “romantic schizophrenic” is divided into rooms by theme, such as Romantic Historicism, Primitivism, Naturalism, and Exoticism. The distinct architecture, décor, and sound design of each room make Savage Beauty an all-sensory theatrical journey.

Medical slides, duck feathers, flowers, human hair, clam shells, and mud are some of McQueen’s raw materials. While seeing these nearly inhuman displays of precision and ingenuity, it’s no wonder he cites myriad preoccupations and inspirations unrestrained by time, space, or context, such as Flemish painting, Scottish nationalism, Victorian Gothic, China, Japan, India, Turkey, and Darwinism. These often recognizable references draw the eye in, but through distinctly McQueenian combinations, distortions, and silhouettes, they are rendered otherworldly.

The only negative to Savage Beauty is sensory overload. By the end of the exhibit you almost forget that you’re looking at clothing. It’s quite clear that McQueen was above all an artist, and expressed his vision through the medium of fashion. For those who are familiar with McQueen only through Lady Gaga’s famous armadillo boots and Kate Middleton’s wedding dress, this show will hit you in a big way.

Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty is on view at The Metropolitan Museum of Art through July 31, 2011

Bill Cunningham New York

You might spot him in the 5^th Avenue 50s straddling his bike, sporting a blue jacket (which is actually a Parisian street sweeper uniform), as he snaps a photo of some dazzling ensemble. But whether or not you can catch this 82-year-old in real life, see “Bill Cunningham New York,” the documentary portrait of the city’s most beloved street fashion photographer.

The doc follows Cunningham on his bike, weaving precariously helmetless in and out of midtown traffic. We see him in The New York Times office where his photos are distilled into the weekly style roundup “On The Street” and the high society event page “Evening Hours.” Interviews with New York fashion staples Anna Wintour, Patrick MacDonald, Annie Flanders, and more round out this sweet peak into Cunningham’s life. The central paradox at play is that he documents and works alongside the most glamorous people and institutions in one of the world’s fashion capitals, but he himself leads an ascetic life. He attends church every Sunday, eats few and modest meals, has about two changes of clothes, and lives in what looks like a janitor’s closet filled with file cabinets of his own negatives. We see him repair his ripped rain poncho with masking tape. He’s not so unaware as to not laugh at himself, but he’d never be wasteful for the sake of pride.

Some of the best scenes take place at the Times, where Bill and his assistant design the layout of his “On the Street” page. “Switch these two,” is the incessant phrase over the shoulder of the openly (though affably) frustrated lumberjack of a man accommodating the man’s whims click and drag after click and drag. These odd couple-y moments highlight Cunningham’s creaky methods being double-timed by a new generation of digital cameras and Photoshop. But Cunningham has been doing it his way since he got home from World War II­ and no one’s stopping him.

Cunningham seamlessly embodies the whimsy of a child and the wisdom of an old man. The duality allows him the moxie to embrace a single, simple passion and to do it everyday for over 60 years with monk-like devotion. To play a straight game in New York, he reflects, is like “Don Quixote fighting windmills.” And it’s true. Life can be tough here and we compromise ourselves to make ends meet or to roll with a certain crowd. But Bill knows neither greed nor opportunism. In the humblest possible way he demonstrates that it’s possible to honor your passion by keeping it the top priority, if you’re willing to improvise. If you let that be the great challenge, rather than a daily grind you fall into, life can be simple and beautiful.