After an evening show during fashion week last month, I wandered over to 39th and Seventh Avenue to hail a cab. Amid corporate offices and mega-delis hawking hot buffet lunches, an iconic button statue declares the area “The Fashion District.” Not exactly the rows upon rows of fabric, notions and design shops that probably draw tons of tourists and fans of Project Runway each year. Enter: the current movement to save it. Big-names like Anna Sui are crying foul as their relied-on vendors and local factories are out-priced by cheap international labor, Sbarro, and local lawmakers planning to rezone the area as a whole to pave the way for luxury residences. I’ve even gotten emails in support of Sui’s new “Save the Garment Center” t-shirts.
As a native, I find it hard to know where to stand, having two contrasting sensibilities: One says, “It’s as New York as the Central Park Carousel!” while the other says, “This is a city born and bred on competition — we make it work, or we pack it up.” Much like the Flower Market below it, the Garment District sometimes seems like a shadow of its former self, one that begs less for preservation than rejuvenation. Well-respected designers like Sui and Narciso Rodriguez and Vera Wang rightly talk about its historic importance in the development of New York design, but it’s… I’ll say it… a shithole. And it’s kind of always been a shithole, right? Is the sentiment really, “But, it’s OUR shithole?” Being affiliated with several fledgling designers, I know it sometimes feels more like a necessary evil: It’s still the official source of materials for New York designers, but it’s in godawful Midtown and it’s full of swindlers who’ll give you nylon instead of silk and charge you $20 instead of $12. It’s so classically New York! I believe in preserving the city’s artistic legacy, but gilding the gritty reality of the district does it a disservice and smacks of misplaced nostalgia.
I remember Times Square when it was Broadway and nudie bars. I remember Soho when it was for artists. It is wonderfully, quixotically New York to complain about the status quo and wax romantic about the past, because it was gorgeous. And I want New York to be the capital of the Arts again. But let’s be brave enough to discuss a way to compete and be successful that doesn’t limit the realm of fashion’s soul to a few gritty blocks in Midtown Manhattan. Let’s figure out how to herald a new fashion district — if it’s in Long Island City, so be it. Look at P.S. 1! It’s cool! Who knows — with more space, you might even be able to find the silk (and the nylon) yourself.
To learn more about the garment district and the movement to save it, visit gidc.org and
savethegarmentcenter.com
