Once, a long time ago, a man I was dating stood at a buffet and heaped a ridiculous amount of food onto his plate. When someone raised an eyebrow, he simply looked at them and said, “I like more.” I like “more” too.
That’s probably why one of my favorite current trends is maximalism – that piled-on look so popular for the past few runway seasons. Largely and quirkily pioneered by Alessandro Michele at Gucci – think Geek Girl chic with cat-eye nerd spectacles, granny knit sweaters over brocade dresses, socks with disco-cool platforms and random, but somehow completely stylish, headwear. (Seriously, why don’t we wear more turbans? What could be a better way to mitigate a bad hair day?)
The trend was also embraced by the iconic Miuccia Prada and other top-line design houses such as Dolce & Gabbana, where maximalism is demonstrated with a voluptuous “La Dolce Vita” vibe replete with cartoon butterflies and cats on curvy-cut dresses and skirts perfect for a 1960s Fellini femme fatale. This year the trend also popped up as a twist on athleisure wear at Louis Vuitton, while Fendi mixed media with 1970s color palettes in fur-trimmed wrapped leather skirts decorated with pop art flowers and worn with wildly contrasting prints.
Maximalism seems like a direct response to previous seasons’ embrace of the cool, straight-line minimalism that walked the runways a few years ago. But even then, the Olsen twins at The Row telegraphed fashion’s coming obsession with volume by showing oversize knits with head-swallowing cowls and wide-legged trousers in a discreetly neutral palette.
With minimalism, a friend once told me, “too much good taste” could be boring. And I think, that’s what maximalism has been rebelling against. It’s not a backlash; it’s an exploration and a yearning to break out, a reaffirmation that fashion can be fun, pointless and joyful.
Those are the qualities I love the most about fashion. Despite having lived an unremarkably easy life, I have a tendency to be morose, and fashion’s pointlessness, its ability to simply be fun-loving without trying to solve my problems, lifts my lowly spirits even if it comes in the form of a simple LBD. Add explosive color mix, riotous prints and goofy layering and it’s like I’m walking around with cartoon bluebirds on my shoulders singing like Snow White.
But more to the point, maximalism lends itself to maximal experimentation.
I don’t really have any creative ability. (I don’t count writing; I’m serviceable at best.) I cannot paint or draw or sculpt; I play no instruments. I am a failed DIY-er, so my home does not have a bespoke nailhead dresser lovingly rehabbed by my capable hands, and try as I might I do not have a pantry filled with perfectly labeled Mason jars.
But I can get dressed.
Clothing is my ultimate creative expression. When I come up with a new outfit combo, I feel like I’ve birthed something special; I spend the whole day floating on air because I got it right. Or sometimes, like an artist who can’t seem to get the light right in a painting, I fail. When it turns out that silver leather skirt just doesn’t go as well with the Kate Spade poppy-print sweater as I thought, I am ruined; certain I have lost my touch (which usually leads to a week of wearing nothing but black as penance).
For me, maximalism is like a get-out-of-jail-free card: out of the all-black-work-wear jail, out of the no-sequins-in-the-daylight jail, out of the I-might-be-too-old-for-this jail, out of the premium-jeans-and-T-shirt-sameness jail that so captivates many OC women.
No, an outfit of jeans, heels and a cute going-out top is not the height of style, but an oversize striped shirt worn wrapped instead of buttoned with a pair of neon track pants and strappy sandals embellished with pink fur? That’s fashion’s pointlessness taken to high art.
Maximalism has also rendered fashion more accessible by embracing not a single genre or style (or body type, for that matter). Whether translating maximalism into voluminous denim at Vetements, cartoon monster sweaters at Emporio Armani or the over-the-top (of the thigh) boots at the Yeezy spring 2016 show, it’s all about too much. On fall and spring runways, shoes were supported by platforms and heels that rival early-era KISS levels, jewelry was oversize and plentiful, bags were embellished within an inch of their lives. Sleeves in more than a few collections reached epic lengths. Even strictly classic collections such as Tom Ford’s fall 2016 (shown contrarily yet logically in September as part of a see-now-buy-now strategy) encouraged maximum layering and demonstrated the trend with its extreme luxury and lusciousness. Maximalism was also on full display at master tailor Thom Browne’s spring 2017 show in New York, where vibrant prints mixed with Looney Tunes colors and seriously delightful shoes.
Nothing, it seems, is off the table when it comes to maximalism.
I see fashion as an art adaptable to the individual – there are others like me out there whose creative challenge is how to successfully mix a floral, stripe and tweed into one outfit — and maximalism offers so many opportunities for translating the runway to real life. Even if you don’t plan to walk around in the full-on ’90s Goth look from Marc Jacobs’ fall collection – and, really, why wouldn’t you – you can decide to rock a plaid frock coat over your go-to black skinnies with your worn-in Doc Martens and not risk looking too much like a mindless trend whore.
You don’t have to walk around in a metallic pleated skirt with a rosy-hued organza pussy bow blouse and an embroidered silk varsity jacket to look current; you can pluck out each of these pieces to up the style quotient of your everyday basics. That metallic skirt gets a lot less quirky but still sparkles when grounded with a black V-neck sweater and a pointed-toe pump; the blouse gives a dose of whimsy to an otherwise office-appropriate suit (which is in again!), and the jacket – wear it everywhere with anything.
As lovely – and still relevant – as a simple polished silhouette can be, there is something to be said for the out-loud volume of maximalism because it creates possibilities.
And that is the point, I think, of fashion’s full-throated support of “more” – it leaves the door open for you to be you and me to be me.
