WEAR THE FUTURE:
2001 Fashion Predictions

by ELIZABETH DYE
243-2122 ext. 335

Fashion journalists for today's glossies rarely risk peeving the designers and merchants that butter their bread by dabbling in opinion. Daring to poke fun at the hype and histrionics of the spring preview might mean no invitation to the Prada sample sale--quel dommage! As a result, mags' predictions for next year's trends tend to be mindless, dingbat effusions: "The new rule is...there are no rules! Check out these albino python slingbacks! Woo hoo!"

It makes one tired. I crave a return to the old days, when the fashion press was dictatorial--and the high priestess of hemlines, editor-in-chief Diana Vreeland, ruled Vogue with an iron fist. For the last several months I've had my ear to the ground so I could deliver WW readers the fashion news for 2001. Now say thank you and take your seats. This will be on the test.

Hooves and Horns and Teeth
and Bones

The paint-gun '80s are by now but a flicker in fashion memory. In recent years we've seen all creatures, great and small, led to the slaughter in the name of couture, leading one to wonder what happens to the B-list bits of all those doomed ocelots, crocodiles and chinchillas. Never fear, an inevitable downturn in the economy will prompt thrifty designers to craft gutsy garments made of gall bladders and back teeth. Think Imitation of Christ meets Sensation meets Discovery Channel. Doubt me? Brit designer Alexander McQueen's spring collection was heavy on the offal: stuffed eagles, mussel shells, bloody feathers...yum, yum, yummy.

1990s Retro

It's the only decade we haven't rehashed...yet. And since the come-around cycle is ever shortening, it's only a matter of minutes before we'll see grunge (flannel, stocking caps, Doc Martens), hip-hop (butt-slung trousers, heavy gold, attitude) and the blue-hued "Monica" Gap dress served up hot on the runways. Halt that Goodwill donation--whatever you were about to throw away, it's back. Pity poor Donatella Versace, hamstrung by the limitations of her medium and driven to roll out the Reagan years one more time.

Through the Looking Glass

Now that we're all officially tech drones, the fussiness of clothes seems so...last century. Don't clash with your cubicle--those soothing blues and taupes were selected expressly for you. Enhance productivity by garbing yourself in a chic ensemble of Windows desktop folders. They can be color-coded according to the status and priority of your body parts ("hot," "essential," "in progress," etc.). Express individual style by customizing your "desktop" with downloadable icons, MP3 files and clever wallpaper.

Desk-calendar Dilbert cartoons show that you're a free spirit!

Heavy Metals

We did silver, we did gold, we did glitter, shimmer and glow in the dark. But the RIGHT NOW trend on the periodic table? Weapons-grade plutonium--in boots, slacks, bags and hats. Carlsbad Caverns is full of it, we can't do anything else with it, and introducing it in a new freedom fabric (a touch of Lycra adds stretch and lengthens half-life) brings the bonus of mixing yet another risk factor into the dizzying cocktail of modern environmental toxins. If the cell phones don't kill us, the hot pants will. And, really, who wouldn't rather die from hot pants?

Blame Canada

It's no secret that Americans are insecure about their culture--its existence, that is. Not so Canada, which seems to take its mongrel colony status in stride to forge a fashion-forward outlook all its own. We're not talking Frenchified luxuries from rogue Quebec but acrylic down vests from the snow hills of Manitoba and permadirty denim coveralls from Saskatchewan silos. If the new political climate has you considering northward emigration, crack open a Molson and start dressing the part.

You Can Can-Can

It's been years since a film launched a memorable fashion phenomenon, unless you count The Matrix (and I don't--no one really waited for Keanu Reeves to say it was OK to wear a tight T-shirt and carry a cell phone). Next year's unlikely and hopefully out-of-control Moulin Rouge musical, starring Nicole Kidman (she sings! she dances! she flashes creamy thighs!) and Ewan MacGregor (who should keep his thighs to himself) promises loads of opportunities for fashion knock-offs. I'll prance in a red satin corset if you will...

Black Is the New Black

It goes with everything, suffers a spaghetti stain without flinching, flatters the freakiest of figures and lends an illusion of sophistication to frumps and fashionistas alike. Forget the new neutrals. Forget image consultants. Forget those limpid, loose-limbed übermodels telling you half a paycheck is not too much to pay for an outfit that looks like the scrapings from a frat boy's laundry bag. In simple schwarz, you are beautiful, powerful and in style--at least for one more year.