Fashion serves many purposes beyond covering us to shield us from the elements. It demonstrates our values and advertises our preferences. It lets the world know who we are through subtle psychological aspects and obvious bold statements. It is our affinity or rejection of our culture versus our individual nature.

The giant that is fashion is powerful, and it's effect is not to be underestimated. The same person in different dress can evoke emotions with whoever we come in contact with, even though we know, deep down, that the person we see before us is the same regardless of what they wear. And yet our affinity with clothing betrays us; our wardrobe is evocative to the degree that it shapes our interactions. We cannot deny that fashion is a very important complement of our identity.

The industry knows this, and spends a great deal or time, energy and resources to tap into who we are, what we want and what we aspire to, translating this into what seems like an innocuous item on a hanger in a store. A previous article in this blog already laid out how much work is involved in creating a garment ("What It Has To Do With The Price Of Eggs In China", November 11th, 2012). What is interesting is interpreting what comes out in collections as of recent,. For these are the most current expressions or, rather, translations of who we are.

In Jeremy Scott 's collection for Moschino, his commentary on consumption was evoked through the associations of symbols of mass consumption (in this case, fast food) applied to another industry that glorifies the same but from a different price point and with higher aspirational associations. Meanwhile, Karl Lagerfeld's collection for Chanel created a presentation that mirrored our consumption bin the form of a Chanel-infused Costco, replete with supermarket items and signs indicating prices are actually raised. The audience unwittingly underscored the point when they rushed to the set post-presentation to take home items off the shelves, much to the delight of the designer who hoped others got the point. Iris van Herpen went further, encasing models in plastic in the runways while indicating in a post presentation interview with Style.com the revelation that parts of our DNA have been and are being patented; in effect, we are become a marketable product.

The Financial Times chimed in on the subject of marketing, featuring an article on fashion and the marketing machine while drawing comparisons to Andy Warhol's wry commentary of mass consumption and success through mass appeal with designers such as Hedi Slimane for Yves Saint Laurent or Fausto Puglisi as examples. In the former, Mr. Slimane's collection was seen by some critics as a well-thought offering that was repackaged or appropriated design, ironic as his influence was Californian artist John Baldessari, known for appropriation as a component of his creativity. In the latter, criticism was levied that the amicable creativity of Mr. Puglisi seemed to be tempered to bring in profit by making his collection more appealing for a larger audience.

Looking at many collections, one sees the checklist of trend factors that show an awareness of conformity to mass expectations. You can't blame designers for this as fashion is a business. They have to make clothes that sell. Comme des Garcons knows this; their dual presentations this season cover the artistic expression of the designer blanched with a secondary presentation that features clothes one would actually wear. To ensure the public didn't get turned away from the conceptual aspect the designer must have known that it had to present the alternative to ensure the public would view it as relevant to practicality.

Fashion gets that it is a product that has to have mass appeal and affinity with familiarity, especially in the face of recent reported turndown in luxury spending in the face of affordable luxury encroaching on its territory. To compound this concern, another seemingly innocuous trend has emerged that reminds of a less favourable influence that plagues fashion in the 90s, and it's been given a catchy name to market its presence already: normcore.

Just before the economy showed signs of collapse in the late 80s, fashion got creative to capture the attention of the buyer and excite the public. But the price points were out of reach and the game of keeping up proved unappealing when looking at business closures and job losses. The game of fashion got lost in the race for a luxury market, and a hunger for status fuelled by vanity propped up by abuse of easily accessible credit. The current climate of seeing attrition and threats of more through the introduction of 3D printing, algorithms and robotics as a way of thinning the workforce without any plan of where people will fit or even survive next is not helping consumer confidence.

With decreased opportunity, labour abuses through exploiting desperation in the form of unpaid internships, and talk of workplace environments becoming a contract and temp environment, and increased debt in the vain quest to amass relevant marketable skills, the newer generations do not see participation in the current environment as remotely possible. To save face and preserve esteem, this generation has taken ownership to cultivate a trend that rejects a game they lament they cannot possibly participate in, and, in the spirit of our times, have branded it with a catchy name and a philosophy of reclaiming individuality through conformity of mediocrity.

Is this new? Hardly, In fact, the reference to the style is cited in 90s fashion, with the sitcom “Seinfeld” in particular as an example. Those who lived in the late 80s onwards know it better, though. As the credit crunch brought world economies to their knees and homelessness became frighteningly rampant, it was deemed distasteful to wear the creative expressive fashions of past. The youth that embraced rejection of fashion consumption gave birth to grunge. No investment in hair, cosmetics nor clothes here, this movement was the bane of every person who made their living in the industries that supported these things in the past. Layers and second-hand hand-me-downs, workwear from surplus stores and utilitarian clothes became the order of the day.

The difference here is generational perspective. If the kids of grunge faced expulsion of the material world with resignation, this generation is raised to be seamlessly integrated into the world that supports the very mechanism they are rebelling against, and isn't divorcing themselves entirely from it as much as recognizing their inability to participate at this time. They have hope of overcoming it because they have access to knowledge and history online that shows every generation overcomes its obstacles in the formation of its new identity, and know that they are a generation that knows how to use the tools that inspire fear: technology itself. They marketed themselves into a better angle to cope, learning to do so because that is the world they were raised in.

And so we see the critique of consumption and marketing in fashion, a transparent admission of shilling for profit and shamelessly doing so while a younger generation sets the stage to embrace the method of the message in lieu of participation in the status quo.