Nostalgia isn't a dirty word for fashion-forward films

The Devil Wears Prada 2 and Marc By Sofia draw from past inspirations for their new works.

Nostalgia isn't a dirty word for fashion-forward films

If there is indeed nothing new under the sun, then how are artists supposed to keep creating? Sometimes in order to move the culture ahead, creative talent looks to the past to draw from the forces that shaped them or even revisit favorite pieces to find new ways to use them. That nostalgic pattern can be found both in the glitzy success of The Devil Wears Prada 2, which has dominated the box office for the past few weeks, and in the conversational documentary Marc By Sofia, Sofia Coppola’s film that’s now available to watch at home. In movies, often nostalgia is just remaking the past, a reprint of what we already have at the house. But in the fashion industry, nostalgia is more likely to evoke the past instead of recreating it. 

Instead of reheating leftovers—as is the case for many a mediocre sequel—the filmmakers behind The Devil Wears Prada 2 took a more somber approach to the much-changed world of fancy photo spreads and glamorous fashion shows. The media landscape of the 2006 original simply no longer exists. Instead of bragging about pricey hauls of expensive luxury items, the sequel’s characters share how they thrifted or found online deals for their fresh looks. With corporate unease hanging over everyone’s head and job security, the trend du jour is “belt-tightening,” with favors being called in to substitute John Legend and his expensive piano for Lady Gaga and a much more portable microphone. And even she’s just looking to land a cover. Everyone is learning to do with less, upcycling a beloved old cerulean sweater into a new vest. 

Designer Marc Jacobs appears in a brief cameo in The Devil Wears Prada 2, working on his new collection, which is also what he’s doing in Marc By Sofia. Playing with Jacobs’ naming convention for many of his famous products, the documentary explores the designer’s life from childhood to his time at Parsons School Of Design that launched his career. The most revealing parts of Coppola’s documentary, though, are when Jacobs discusses his many inspirations, ranging from photographer Cindy Sherman (who influenced his striking ad campaigns) to director Rainer Werner Fassbinder (who influenced his use of color) to Bob Fosse (who influenced the theatricality of his shows). Early in the film, Jacobs cites Fosse’s Sweet Charity as one of the influences for his latest collection, borrowing the big 1960s updos and chunky masquera-lined makeup. By the end of Coppola’s doc, Jacobs refashions the look to be less retro and more modern, adding in a billowy mix of textures and fabrics that make the clothes look slightly too big for the models, like a doll’s clothes that don’t stick to the skin. It’s a look that’s echoed by another tangible piece of nostalgia in the show: an oversized chair and table set that the models walk under like toys on a catwalk. 

For a designer like Jacobs, nostalgia is always part of the conversation, whether as a springboard for a new idea or as a guardrail against repetition. The challenge of always creating something new is that it’s impossible to find inspiration in nothing. Everything must start from somewhere. As Jacobs parses fabric samples and works through different sleeve designs, viewers are treated to a front-row view of the million little decisions that go into the design process before the first model ever hits the runway. As Jacobs points out, all of this pomp and circumstance for his seasonal collection is for a one-time performance, its own work of ephemeral art. 

At the Met Gala earlier this month, Jacobs dug even deeper into history for inspiration, incorporating the event’s theme, “Costume Art,” into his designs. For Cardi B.’s striking dress, he found inspiration in Hans Bellmer’s The Doll (La Poupée), a photography series of surrealist imagery of deconstructed then reassembled dolls. His multicolored dress for Rachel Sennott took inspiration from conceptual artist John Baldessari. Jacobs utilizes these inspirations in playful, unconventional ways, which as seen in Marc By Sofia, is in line with his overall approach to design. From his time at Louis Vuitton in the early 2000s—when he added graffiti scrawl to the brand’s signature logo print and partnered with artist Takashi Murakami to refashion its bags into eye-catching portable works of art and mass production—Jacobs and other designers like him have armed their palettes with everything from pop art to classical works in order to come up with the next big thing. 

In fashion, the saying goes, “what once was old is new again.” If you’re ever horrified that the 1990s are in style again, take comfort in knowing that generations have been refashioning and remixing inspirations long before the return of 2000s-era skinny jeans. Perhaps one of the reasons The Devil Wears Prada 2 was such a nice surprise is because it doesn’t serve audiences a lesser version of the movie they fell in love with years ago. Instead, it reunites these familiar faces and their headstrong personas for a story inspired by but different from the past, defying the diminishing returns of most other sequels. While Jacobs, the fashion world, and the media around it adjusts to new trends and social and economic realities, the past will always provide something of a starting point. The pressure to create something new will always remain, and while the well to dip into for inspiration grows bigger and bigger, it’s up to artists to make something new out of something borrowed. 

 
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