Fashion 88 : Chic Is a Rule in Some Circles Around L.A.
At the entrance to Hollywood Park’s exclusive Turf Club, a man in a Donegal tweed jacket, smart gray flannel slacks and spiffy Italian shoes was pushing his luck.
He wasn’t wearing a tie. Even in laid-back Southern California, in every neighborhood, there are places and there are places-- from Pasadena to Sunset Plaza--where people know the rules, spoken or unspoken, and put on the ritz accordingly; anything from conservative chic to trendy glitter, depending upon the scene and who’s doing the seeing.
More often than not, the goal isn’t to be a perfect 10; it’s to be dressed to the nines for the occasion.
A man who arrives at the Turf Club in faulty haberdashery (no tie, no jacket or the wrong type of jacket) can usually remedy the situation. In exchange for a $5 deposit, he borrows a cravat--albeit wide, dated and decidedly used--or a baby-blue sport coat that conjures memories of Lawrence Welk. But a woman with too much of her body showing will politely be asked to leave. The Turf Club spells it all out in the membership booklet.
Elsewhere, it is simply known that effort dressing goes with the terrain. At the Bistro Garden in Beverly Hills (where the designers du jour include Lagerfeld, Ungaro, Chanel, Adolfo, Bill Blass and James Galanos), anyone who arrives in something as gauche as a sweat suit will get the cold shoulder from maitre d’ Freddie Kernbach.
“Jeans are accepted. But sweat suits definitely don’t belong. I’ve never seen a woman wear one here. And if a man has one on, I tell him he shouldn’t eat before he exercises. If he tells me he’s already exercised, I tell him to go home and take a shower,” the restaurant’s fashion guardian says.
He faces a bigger problem every Friday, traditional day of the Bistro Garden power lunch. According to Kernbach: “People definitely dress for the location. And ladies dress to be seen, especially by other ladies.”
Amid a barrage of precious gems, pricey ensembles and well-publicized faces, he carefully decides “the whole idea of the power lunch: who sits up front inside, who sits up front outside, who has the window seat.”
There are no special seating arrangements at the Pasadena Showcase House of Design or on the bus that takes people to it. But an estate, always decorated for a worthy cause, has a way of bringing out worthy wardrobes.
Each spring a different Showcase House, refurbished and furnished by specialists, is open to the public for one month. Proceeds from the project, organized by the Pasadena Junior Philharmonic Committee, go to the Los Angeles Philharmonic and to music-education programs.
During the recent final days of the 1988 Showcase, women matched the mood of the blue-chip real estate. They toured, lunched and shopped for arts and crafts, dressed in tasteful summery clothes, inevitably worn with an extra touch of class. Typical of the crowd were friends Eileen Wohlgelernter and Lisa Fennenbaum, who wore pastel cotton separates and identical Paloma Picasso silver brooches.
Eclectic elegance is the name of the game at the annual dinner and graduation show given by the Otis/Parsons school of design. As many as 1,200 people associated with the fashion industry attend the event to salute a star among them (this year it was Hollywood costumer Bob Mackie) and future stars.
It’s hardly a night to wear just any old thing. And graduating senior Karin Miller, in a leather jacket tossed over a short, tight, bare Betsey Johnson floral sheath, was typical of students determined to look outrageously hip.
“This is me ,” said Miller, whose legs were very visible. “I couldn’t bear to wear something long.”
Elsewhere, the room was awash with more standard black-tie fare: beads, brocades, chiffon gowns and Christian Lacroix knock-offs.
Local museum and art gallery openings usually attract the artfully dressed. Sometimes it’s black tie, sometimes it’s string tie. For opening night of the Elvis Presley commemorative show at La Luz de Jesus Gallery on Melrose Avenue (open through Sunday), many guests wore styles celebrating “the king of rock ‘n’ roll.”
Out of the past came beehive hairdos, suede shoes, tulle gowns and cowboy hats. The gallery supplied nostalgic music and Elvis’ favorite foods, such as deep-fried banana-and-peanut butter sandwiches. Those who craved mementos bought vintage buttons, T-shirts, $50 hound-dog hats or $500 white leather jackets with hand-painted portraits of Elvis on the back.
Upscale trends crop up constantly along Sunset Plaza Drive in West Hollywood. There, fashion on the street often mirrors the merchandise in the boutiques. And strollers, aware of the deluxe reputation of the area, arrive put-together. When the well-coifed and well-heeled aren’t going from shop to shop, they’re sitting in one of the outdoor cafes.
“It’s one of the smarter streets in the city because of all the European-influenced ‘in’ stores,” explained Ellen Grutsch, who was smartly dressed in leather for a recent rendezvous with friends. “If you want to see what’s new in L.A., this is the place.”
But you can’t wear the new everywhere. Certainly not back at Hollywood Park’s Turf Club, where tradition demands traditional finery.
Club director Barbara Caganich notes that under the official dress code, denim is not allowed. Neither are tennis shoes or blouses and dresses that are backless, strapless or too revealing. Nor is “any style or condition of clothing for ladies and gentlemen that the club director may consider inappropriate,” she reads from the rules.
Inappropriate includes “a skirt that’s too short: a really mini mini. It has to be reasonable, about a hand’s length above the knee.”
Of the celebrities Caganich has seen at the track, two come to mind immediately: Elizabeth Taylor, memorable for a chartreuse satin skirt, matching tights and shocking pink top she once wore. And Eva Gabor, “who wears hats and looks beautiful every time she is here.”
Caganich makes it easy to understand why some people wouldn’t come to the races in anything less: “This is supposed to be the sport of kings.”
