For all my complaining about how early the grocery stores close in Geneva, the city has many wonderful things to offer: the United Nations, the Jet d'Eau (the world's largest shooting stream of water), and an awesomely multicultural population.
Geneva also offers, according to several of my male colleagues at work, one of the most beautiful and chic young female populations in Europe. While they gushed to me about the wonders of the smoldering filles, I sat back in my chair and seriously regarded the slightly dirty cuff of my Gap low-rise khakis. What's an American girl to do in a Europe of pashminas and ballet flats?
Way back in early August, dressed in running shorts and a bra, I packed my bags for my European experience. I dutifully tried to fill my Samsonite with a good sampling of versatile yet fashionable blazers, pants and tops. Realizing that I was about to enter a different realm of fashion, I borrowed my mother's pashmina and packed every piece of jewelry in my arsenal. My Gap khakis came along, supplemented with a funky belt. When in doubt, accessorize.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I arrived at my Geneva homestay to be greeted by a 37-year-old single woman wearing cutoff Levi shorts and a wife-beater. If I remember correctly, that had been my sleeping attire in the hot summers of 5th grade. The shoes parked messily at the door to the apartment were all grocery store-edition slip-ons, and her feet were couched in filthy and cracked soccer slides. Madame Hubert's French sounded authentically cultured and lovely - but her clothes, mon Dieu!
The next morning, trying to disguise my shock at Mme Hubert's sleeping attire (a Bugs Bunny T-shirt and lace thong), I walked out the door for my first day in Geneva, looking forward to sightings of diplomats and Gen??¶? chic. At the U.N., the men and women wore matching navy polyester suits, while at the Red Cross they sported ribbed sweaters and flowery blouses. Nothing inspiring, but international aid workers, I do believe, can be forgiven for their fashion transgressions.
By the end of the day, commuting through central downtown to return home, I turned my eye towards the crowds crossing the Rue de Mont Blanc. Internationalism (Geneva's middle name) is the sine qua non of my European fashion experience.
The men - bless them for their blind adherence to rules - stuck stolidly to Hugo Boss in charcoal and the quintessential Kenneth Cole black leather briefcase. This look I knew well - I call it the "guest speaker day at the Fletcher School look"- and I found it acceptably clean and crisp. The classically Swiss addition of the full-sized black umbrella provided the perfect end-of-day detail for the 5:30 p.m. male working crowd.
The women, on the other hand, seemed to have come not from the exotic far reaches of this world, but rather from outer space. Their laundry list of fashion indiscretions runs long, but high at the top is a faux pas that has come to define my problems with European fashion: forgetting the time of day.
Yes, I know that Europeans approach their schedules with a relaxed air. And I have to admit that two-hour lunches and four-hour dinners are not without their charms. However, wearing bleached rhinestone-studded jeans with a faux-furred nylon waist jacket - all in the late afternoon - is most certainly without its charms. Every afternoon on my walk home from work, I see bevies of these poor young women who, even in Swatch's home country, seem to have lost their watches.
And while I don't like to snipe at big business, I have to say that the stores appear only to encourage this terrible fashion state of affairs. Store racks abound with track pants sold as daywear and perfectly good white linen pants ruined by slits running from ankle to thigh. Even at H&M, the venerable and extraordinarily popular European retailer, I cannot find a single black belt without studs or a giant buckle that says "Hottie."
Here is the question I ask myself: what is Europe coming to when fashion in its most international city subsists on rhinestones and polyester? Has the suave, chic and cultured Europe of my fashion daydreams disappeared under a tide of Chinese textile imports? (The European Union might say this is indeed the cause.) And what force is responsible for this terrible European fashion reality?
Jacques Chirac and I have not thoroughly discussed this dilemma, but I would say bad European fashion is a result of a situation on Mr. Chirac's mind quite frequently: the state of the European economy.
While the Rue du Marches is admittedly dotted with Louis Vuitton and Benetton, ask any Swiss person where she shops and the answer is H&M or C&A. Both of these chains offer fashion in the global age incarnate: sweaters made in Nepal, belts made in Mexico, chopsticks as hair accessories. And while I won't deny the spiffiness of wearing underwear from a country I've never visited, the art of the fashion itself is seriously lacking.
Yet I cannot blame H&M and C&A for falling victim to mass production of ugly fashions. While everyone would probably love to afford the unique and remarkable handmade items at European boutiques, it is the low prices at mass market retailers that draw in the Saturday crowds. Whichever giant retailers can get a good price, consumers in Europe will be, in a sense, forced to buy.
While Switzerland has one of the world's highest standards of living, any Swiss citizen will tell you that as the cost of living keeps going up, maintaining European standards of living becomes increasingly difficult. Thus fashion, malheureusement, falls to the wayside as consumers weigh paying for car insurance versus paying for a new pair of shoes.
And that, my friends, is something to complain about.
