Fashion: The Soup
Fashion scouts are cracking containers with clothes discarded and donated to the hillbillies. In line (together) with the homeless, they’re waiting for the Red Cross handout bringing heaps (containers) of clothes into the ateliers of the renowned designers of the fashion metropolises. As the gap between rich and poor widens, the urban-versus-rural barrier breaks. Country boys are turning into adventure undertakers. Suntanned studio-types are casting themselves in front of beauty salons. They’re all wearing camouflage suits in the city or the country, and now and then it protects them from their own species. Perfect!
It’s not just their weekday, but the weekday of the most westerly men and women, which (the weekday) undergoes a discreet decentralized Balkanization. Ships and boats, ships and people, noble boatpeople, cruise the Danube in search of friendship and restitution. They return with rakia, brass and… an artist, and his friends. As video performer the artist is integrated into the national clubbing-costume. The lady next door likes it and consequently introduces him as a curator at the next Street Stringtanga Awards. That’s why a fashion designer purchased a villa full of puke in the 18th or 19th district of Vienna for € 1.8 million – as an expression of his delightful presence.
Versace, Gucci, Helmut Lang… only the finest in clothing, what all the friends keep in their trunks. Surprisingly enough somebody turns the friends in. Now everyone points at the Fashionistas and everyone pretends to know about chic. Tapping on their wallets everyone feigns elegant homelessness. As the villa gets progressively dirtier, mundane clochards attend a lingerie show or take part in a porno charity at a exquisite location. “More Helmut Lang is what this country needs”, the lady curators scream after the barriers fall. Since then the everlasting fight for the world’s most expensive bra takes its turn. While trunks and rooms worldwide are opening a question pops up: Which top models will wear the 10 million dollar bra? Some claim not to give away the names of their world-known clients out of juridical concerns.
But we can. It’s the grandmother!
She brings with her a small dowry – a malnourished Styrian – to her marriage. With the help of Nanud and Kosud he forms the human wall. After leaving the circus he wears a blue apron on top of brown trousers. This combination is turned down three times by the fundamental lower-southeast-capital’s national costume lodge “Zur einfältigen Knopfampel” (”The Naive Stoplight of Buttons”), since it looks suspiciously Croatian. They also presume his e-mail address comes from somewhere in the South Pacific. But they let the Albanians wear their “Lederhosen” country-cross-wise and perform their own skiptarian weekday within (the Lederhosen) to keep up with (to the tune of) their time management.
The Used Look has become a highlight. Now the “The Legend”, “The Preworn”, “The Shitted-In Jean” are promoted since the Albanians did so well. You add your bought weekday and therefore live longer and in absolute safety. And now they have so much time to think about their previous lives. Paco, for his part, used to be a courtesan. In his prophecy “The fire of the sky” he announced the end of the world on August 11, 1999. He claimed that the space station Mir would crash over Paris due to the solar eclipse.
At the same time we were having our first meeting with a Tyrolean glasscutter. As the valley darkens the meeting comes to an end, proportionally to and to such an extent that, as the snatches of conversation fall increasingly silent, the visitors and PR-ladies climb the roof of the factory in something of a trance. Sparkling wine is being served as the ideal completion to this natural phenomenon. Some of the participants are wearing rustic tailcoats, although this is considered inappropriate during the meetings. On top of the glittering world they realized they were nothing without the sun and thus started praying. Shortly after a PR-lady might be asked to come into China’s “Forbidden City” in order to hand over a cut-glass water lily to the crown prince. It is as easy as that.
And so it happens. The master ceremonies performs with a layering of tweeds, diamonds and other classical ingredients, a twist of punk and freshness. A list of objects, styles and agreements is made and from them, newly promoted objects, styles and agreements, because they hadn’t appeared for a long time and were therefore seen as lucrative. While wading through piles of clothes the HundM-customers utterly lose their innocence. Destinies are created out of luck, castings and revelations. The “Designers of the Minute” are being replaced by internationalized “Heavenly Hosts of the Second”. Meagre scouts carry on roaming the hinterland in search of rare sorts, spots and words.
We back the only right horse: We do not move at all.
Author: Joseph Berger
Photos: Wolfgang Zajec
re: Susanne Bisovsky
[lives and works in Vienna
her work refers to the national costume]
www.bisovsky.com



































