Marc by Sofia by Ali
How a night at the movies reminded me to have more fun getting dressed
There’s still time to get your applications in for the À La Carte inspiration trip to Milan and Turin! It’s shaping up to be, frankly, one of the best trips of all time. Don’t miss out.
Last Friday, my friend Sarah and I caught the 7:30 showing of A24’s Marc by Sofia, a documentary celebrating Marc Jacobs’ career by his longtime friend Sofia Coppola. We started the night with a stop at the Cheesecake Factory and grabbed Cherry Coke ICEEs on our way into the theater, so it really felt like a bona fide mid-2000s Mall Night in all the best ways.
Fashion documentaries tend to have a weirdly emotional impact on me. I dramatically shed actual tears at the end of Dior and I (2015), which chronicled the design process of Raf Simons’ first Dior couture collection, and I’ve seen Diana Vreeland: The Eye Has to Travel (2011) and Very Ralph (2019) more times than I can remember. I just have such a reverence for people with real vision, and the process of producing a fashion show is the ultimate example, from the clothes themselves to the casting to the set design to the music. Plus, I’m a product of the America’s Next Top Model generation, a class of millennials that left college hoping for a job at a magazine or somewhere with a fashion closet.
Marc by Sofia didn’t quite move me like the others did—it traded any narrative arc for something that felt more like a 90-minute moving mood board than anything. But it did remind me of that awe my younger self used to feel when watching these iconic creative directors have an idea, then build a world around it. And, like anything Sofia touches, it has a great soundtrack.
The main thing I took away from the doc, though, was a reminder of the Marc Jacobs’ Fall/Winter 2020 show. The film only touches on it briefly—when Sofia asks Marc about his favorite collection he’s ever made, he says that he could have ended his career after Fall/Winter 2020, which he sent down the runway right before the pandemic, and he would have been happy. It was just a beat in the film, an example of how Marc cares about the theater of a show (in this case, one that weaves choreographed dance vignettes in and amongst the model walks) as much as the clothes themselves. But it triggered a memory for me of what it feels like to truly be full-body inspired by something.
The collection showed on February 12, 2020 in a version of New York City that didn’t know that a future of face masks and empty grocery store shelves was right around the corner. I happened to be in the city that week for work, and even though I wasn’t attending the shows or anything, there was a palpable creative spirit in how everyone was getting dressed. I watched Marc’s show the way most people did, via still images of each look uploaded to WWD, screenshotting every third image as I flipped through them on my phone.
The collection was a parade of ‘60s-inspired silhouettes: monochromatic shift dresses paired with matching head scarves, A-line car coats and Peter Pan collars, structured little hats and gowns that looked like they were made for Jackie Kennedy herself. Kaia Gerber walked down the runway in a fuzzy yellow coat with a matching hat and black patent knee-high boots. Bella Hadid wore white leather opera gloves, sequins, and a beehive. Miley Cyrus was there for some reason. Models wore heavy black eyeliner, socks with heels, and pieces of jewelry that looked like props from an afternoon of playing “dress up”.
I loved it, every bit of it. I didn’t know how Marc Jacobs himself felt about it back then, but in retrospect, I shared his pride—if it was the last thing he ever made, I’d be fine with it. (Ironically, it's the only collection of his that was never produced—the pandemic made sure that the runway looks were the only ones ever made.) I spent each morning of that New York trip cobbling together copycat looks using combinations of the black base layers, cashmere coats, and candy-colored dresses I packed in my suitcase, straightening my long, bluntly-cut hair to match model #57’s and topping it all off with a pair of glasses we just happened to have made at ban.do that season that eerily matched the pair worn by model #46. I even had serendipitously packed a yellow dress that referenced Kaia’s look almost too specifically. I was all-caps INSPIRED.
Last weekend, this bit from the doc playing over in my head, I scrolled back in my camera roll to find my outfit photos from the days leading up to lockdown. I felt a pang of nostalgia for a version of myself that had so much more fun getting dressed, one that was just six years younger, but filled with a playfulness that has dulled a bit in the years since. I still love clothes, maybe even moreso than I did then, and I’m much clearer on my taste now, but I miss what going to an office every day allowed me: a daily opportunity to experiment. Life looks different now—I work from home, I’m in the second half of my 30s, and I live in a part of town that’s beautiful, but certainly not known for its fashion. In all the ways I’ve grown up and into myself, I’m realizing that I’ve slowly and accidentally retired from a time of experimentation and self-expression, and I think I’d like to come out of retirement, just a little bit.
Marc by Sofia, unrequited in its potential as it was, reminded me what it feels like to click into inspiration, to embody it and play with it and try it on like a costume. Sarah mentioned that she’s feeling inspired by fashion for the first time in years, and I agree—it feels like we’re collectively coming out of an era of Khaite-coded minimalism and stepping into a Matthieu Blazy-induced phase of color and imagination. I don’t pay enough attention to the runways to speak beyond my own evolution with authority, but for me, the fact that I’ve just added a giant pink rug to my otherwise neutral living room speaks volumes—it’s time to have some fun again.
I don’t know exactly what this will look like; as I write this, I’m wearing black from head-to-toe while waiting for UPS to deliver a fresh three-pack of plain white tees to my doorstep. I don’t see myself making a dramatic shift, but I don’t know, I feel something stirring inside me, a craving to feel what I felt back in February 2020 again. I think I’ll start by revisiting those old favorites—that particular Marc show, but also those fashion docs I loved, screenshots of former style icons, and the Audrey Hepburn library of classics—to see if they dig up the same feelings they used to. Maybe this Milan trip I’m planning will be the thing that brings me back.
Since there aren’t any pieces from the collection floating around the internet secondhand, I pulled together a little edit of things that have caught my eye in the spirit of Marc’s 2020 show, but more appropriate for spring:
Applications are still open for the À La Carte inspiration trip to Milan and Turin this fall! If you’ve already turned yours in, thank you—I’m in the process of reviewing everything that’s come through so far! And if you’re thinking about it, don’t wait too long…
x
Ali
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The Museum of Allison Bornstein
I’m introducing a new column here on À La Carte: The Museum! The Museum hands us a map to the objects, ideas, and references that represent a guest’s visual world, from the entrance hall to the gift shop. It only felt right to kick it off with someone who doesn’t just have good taste, but who helps others find their own: Allison Bornstein.
I relate to this! I also work from home and live in a city that doesn’t really value fashion. I keep looking for reasons lately to get “dressed” and have fun with fashion.
I love this, Ali! And look at those Light Summer colors making another (very chic) appearance 😍