Shopping for fashion like it mattered
H&M;, THE IKEA of fashion, claims to bring stylish clothing to the pecuniarily challenged masses around the globe. But not until this month -- six years after opening its first U.S. store -- did it bring its fashion-forward blend of “business casual” and “trendy clubwear” to that mecca of Los Angeles shopping, the Beverly Center.
Rumor had it that an L.A. store didn’t appeal to the Swedish chain because there wasn’t enough winter here for all their winter merchandise. (H&M;, according to representative Lisa Sandberg, is a “four-seasons clothing company.”) The majority of the chain’s stores remain north of the Mason-Dixon line and east of the Mississippi.
Or maybe H&M; just wanted to time its opening for the holiday shopping season. On Nov. 9, several weeks after opening its first Southern California store in Pasadena, H&M; arrived at the Beverly Center. Instead of trying to convince my bosses that I needed a full day to go “on assignment,” I went after work. I was glad I did when a cashier told me that the line to get in the store that morning was hundreds long and had been formed the previous afternoon.
Why the rush? H&M; markets inexpensive clothes and still manages to be cool, attracting top-shelf designers to craft their own lines and A-list celebrities such as Madonna to sell clothes. The hip factor can be alienating. But to me, it’s easier to stomach than Urban Outfitters’ market-tested edginess or Abercrombie & Fitch’s slavish worship of frat boys and rugby players.
The store was surprisingly orderly. Patrons were unfailingly polite; no one even fought me for a slouchy short-sleeve sweater by Viktor & Rolf. Surely you know Viktor & Rolf, the avant-garde Dutch duo who are among the world-famous high-end designers who have sold their style for cheap at H&M.; No? I have a confession to make: Neither did I. Before I bought the sweater, I knew them mostly as the designers who accessorized their models with antlers.
I left with the sweater and gifts for my nieces. It wasn’t my most successful shopping foray, but it was enough to remind me what I loved about H&M; when I first went there in New York six years ago. My fashion-savvy college roommate insisted that I go, regaling me with tales of an inexpensive store with daily shipments of new stuff. I had never heard of the place -- I was a cloistered Southern California suburban kid. Fashion to me meant board shorts and platform flip-flops. That H&M; trip cost me $80, but it corrected years of fashion abuse.
Giving women and men access to a cosmopolitan wardrobe has been H&M;’s strong suit for years. Along with its more expensive European rivals Zara and Mango, H&M; bridges the fashion gap between the American shopping mall, European fashion capitals and Middle Eastern cities. Mango has stores in Libya, Syria and Lebanon, among others; H&M; recently opened one in Kuwait.
Together the three chains have about 3,000 stores on six continents, thereby helping the fashion industry achieve the worldliness it has always pretended to have. Now looks inspired by the runway and (to adapt a common phrase) the “global street” are available to Midwestern mall rats or jet-setters in Dubai. That’s not a bad thing -- aesthetically or politically.
Swati Pandey
