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2003 is now over: the year the High Street dictated what we should wear. Is this the end of the line for luxe labels?
Traipsing around Wolverhampton in search of a cut-price top for an occasion one acrimoniously doused evening, it struck me that the discount fashion chains had one thing in common. They all sold variations on the synthetic black, asymmetrical, batwing-shape theme with prices from £12.99 downwards. These contraptions had either a draped neckline, slanted hem or slashed sleeves (or, occasionally, all three) and were clearly designed with 15 year old Atomic Kitten wannabes in mind.
Not that I have anything against girl-bands or MTV, but the occasion I intended to buy my top for was black-tie, not the Black-eyed Peas: namely, the London Glamour Ball, a charity fundraiser for the Hawkswood Centre, a deaf school currently under threat with closure.
OK, not exactly the Oscars, but near enough, for it promised its own lookalike awards ceremony and casino. Certainly, the lone coffee-coloured taffeta prom skirt that waited forlornly at home demanded a companion far classier and better-made than any that shops called Effect and Tomcat could advise.
Star looks
Thankfully, the discount stores are just part of a far larger story that's got the fashion chains palpitating with excitement: the cult of the celebrity. In a world where Heat outstrips Marie Claire, previously the UK's biggest guilty secret (c'mon, who really bought the latter for its fashion?), in circulation figures, in no other place can you find clothing to rival your favourite luminary's than the High Street.
And it's not all black asymmetrical tops either. Britain has been privy to a rebirth of mass-produced fashion lately, with spanking-new stores opening here and there, and existing occupants being revamped and/or expanded: New Look, Dorothy Perkins, River Island, Zara, Topshop, Debenhams, House of Fraser, H&M, Selfridges, Monsoon... Which gives you a pretty broad spectrum of A-list clothing whatever your age, wherever you shop.
Mass appeal Why the resurgence? Accessibility is key. By wearing certain togs to high-profile events - and crucially, wearing it well - as we all know, celebrities boost a fashion label's visibility no end. Gwyneth Paltrow, Sarah-Jessica Parker, Jennifer Lopez, Kylie Minogue, Cameron Diaz, Sadie Frost, Cat Deeley and many, many others have capitalised on their heightened accessibility to Joe Public by going fashion-savvy - thus bringing fashion to the masses on a saturated daily scale that a six-monthly catwalk show could never reach.
Quick off the mark Duly, the chains have cottoned onto this (not to mention bagging a few stars for their advertising campaigns). Stock turnaround is now so fast it's almost indecent. The moment Victoria Beckham cocks her head in a trilby, copies wipe the floor clean at Topshop and New Look.
Weeks after being flaunted for the paparazzi, you get tempting green frocks (Demi and Julianne Moore), shimmering silver shifts (Beyoncé), and retro-'80s black-and-primary-colour striped sloppy joes (Kelly Osbourne). Whoever the celebrity, whatever the label, there's something for everyone to copy - and no-one does it faster than the British High Street.
Real women Before we scoff, let us consider the power of the celebrity for a moment. An object of derision though she may be to some, to others the celebrity fashion icon is a godsend, for rarely does she also possess a model figure.
Bar Gwyneth, Kate and Cameron, most celebrities are built like us and that's what makes them such popular fashion icons. We gloat over their physical failings because we can't afford their resources and we're jealous of the way they manipulate their own image.
Short of stalking them, what do we do? We head for the High Street and snap up enough diamanté to compensate for the lack of paparazzi in our lives. So who are we to condemn the materialistic trappings of our stars?
Home-grown
Then again, we should be proud of ourselves: no one does mass-produced fashion like we do. The French might have les Galleries Lafayette, the Americans the shopping mall, but Spanish imports Zara and Mango apart, foreign High Street fashion don't quite have the adaptability or zest of our own Topshop. Nor do they want to try: in France and America, the designer label rules.
In Britain, the echo of designer footsteps clamouring to work with Debenhams, Marks and Spencer or New Look - Luella Bartley, Anthony Symonds, Betty Jackson, Pearce Fionda, and lately Erickson Beamon and Matthew Williamson - clearly marks them out as the winners in the homegrown fashion stakes. And what's more, the celebrities themselves now shop there as well. What better endorsement to get you into your local department store?
By Melissa Mostyn
Well she has her opinion anyhoo. So true about the girl-band wannabes
