The concept of a mere “cultural exchange” glosses over the historical reality that made this “exchange” possible and leaves me (and I imagine many others) quite unsettled--how could we deign to discuss colonization in such simplistic terms? Although this is touched upon throughout the film, the apolitical stance of the exhibit is constantly stressed by the creators, as Bolton claims to be creating a “fantasy” (fantasy for whom, I dare to ask?). Repeatedly throughout the film, Bolton overlooks concerns from the various stakeholders he confers with about the depictions of Chinese culture--namely Wong Kar-Wai, the Chinese film-maker employed to help make the exhibit a reality, as well as Maxwell K. Hearn, the head curator of the Asian Art wing of the Met. Art historian Rachel Silberstein most eloquently summarizes this by saying, “The message of the exhibition is that politics can be glided over with the glint of a sequin and the sheen of a lacquered surface.” This failure to paint a holistic picture of history is the elephant in the room at the exhibit: with a majority of the designers showcased hailing from Western origins—Dior, Tom Ford, Ralph Lauren, and Roberto Cavalli—as opposed to the mere three Chinese designers showcased: Vivienne Tam, Guo Pei, and Li Xiaofeng. My biggest question in regards to this exhibit, though, is who benefited from this exchange? It seems the “cross” in “cross-cultural exchange” largely loses its meaning when it clearly attempts to describe a one-way relationship. Ultimately, I was left unsettled and concerned about the ethics behind the museum existing as a space which is bereft of responsibility for the controversies it plays into. Sadly, this isn’t the only instance in which the Met has dropped the ball regarding its inherent mission to represent history and encapsulate all of its political dimensions...we can’t forget about punk!

As a child of a former punk-rocker herself, the spirit of punk has always had a soft spot in my heart (after all, two year old me’s favorite song was the Ramones Beat on the Brat). Although I am the last person to claim complete disavowal of institutions (I go to Brown...need I say more?), it feels inherently wrong to institutionalize punk! Punk subculture sought to disrupt the establishment, push back against normative conceptions of beauty, and resist social control...and now you want to place it in the institution of all institutions, especially in terms of codifying taste and beauty, the ultimate arbiter of cultural capital: the Met? Not only does the Met serve as a site of social control by institutionalizing punk, it also exerts control over how the narrative of punk will be displayed to the public. While there is an abundance of Vivienne Westwood, Rodarte, Alexander McQueen, and Yohji Yamamoto, what conveniently is not in the exhibition is the Swastika. The Swastika was worn by many punk musicians and designers either as an attempt to subvert its meaning or signify alliance with neo-Nazism. Whatever the case, by silencing a symbol of hate, the political dimensions of the punk movement are not holistically articulated. The attention to more innocuous and eye-catching pieces—such as Dior Homme’s SS2002 red-sequin chest lapels or Versace’s 1994 cut out dress, which was pieced back together with safety pin brooches—alongside the loud silencing of clothing items with oppressive connotations does little but give strength to these symbols of oppression. 

This brings me to one final exhibition worth discussing: the MoMA’s Items: Is Fashion Modern? The motive behind this exhibit was to display “garments that changed the world,” showing 350 pieces ranging from Spanx to maternity clothing, even including the simple sock. Not to be confused with the more theatrical and thematic exhibitions that are typical of the Met, the MoMA sought to provide a comprehensive depiction of influential aesthetics over the past century. Similarly to its counterparts at the Met, though, the exhibition’s silences were some of the loudest aspects of the show. I would like to draw our attention to two particular pieces on display: Polo shirts and Doc Martens. Kudos to Conall’s piece published a few weeks ago (excuse my shameless plug, but it is truly worth the read!), where he so eloquently gives a history of how a timeless, function-forward garment such as Fred Perry’s polo shirt can so quickly turn awry—transforming skinhead subculture and the emblematic polo shirt into one that connotes white nationalist neo-nazism. But, back to the exhibition. While the MoMA makes note of the polo shirt’s ties to mod and skinhead subculture, it is conveniently silent concerning the alt-right’s adoption of the same polo-shirt uniform. Doc Martens are another function-forward, working class fashion item that were co-opted by racist groups, where differently colored laces came to signify which “type” of racist (or anti-rascist) you were: white for white pride, red for neo-nazism, yellow for anti-rascist, green for neutrality, black and white for racial unity, and blue for killed-a-cop. Once again, this history was not accounted for. By incorporating these “influential” garments into the exhibit, but not accounting for the entirety of their political dimensions and how they came to signify oppressive groups, these messages of oppression are ultimately strengthened. 

This article has definitely raised more questions than it has answered, and my intention is not to disavow the importance of fashion in the realm of museums (I enjoy a good fashion exhibit just as much as the next fashion junkie...and I will most definitely be streaming the next Met Gala), but what I hope it does do is help us think a bit more critically about what we are seeing in the museum--and, most importantly, what we are not seeing. Curators quite obviously can’t incorporate everything into one exhibit, but that doesn’t excuse them from failing to include crucial details. The cultural capital that accompanies having one’s work placed in a museum cannot be overlooked; however, for movements like punk, this insertion into the museum world is directly juxtaposed with the movement’s main purpose: fuck the system. For who do these exhibits truly serve, if they are not paying proper homage to the countries and fashion movements they purport to represent? All I can say is that I’m left questioning the intentions behind exhibiting fashion in museums, especially if we are paying more attention to spectacles such as the Met Gala and the millions of dollars it pulls in annually, rather than the influence museums can exert over inscribing history into our collective consciousness--and, chiefly, their ability to reinvent the cycle of exclusionary storytelling.