THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, September 16, 1996 TAG: 9609140041
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MONIQUE WILLIAMS, SPECIAL TO THE DAILY BREAK
LENGTH: 120 lines
She likes to wear fly dip gear,
Tommy Hilfiger, Polo and Donna Karan sportswear
- Rapper Da Youngsta from his single ``I'll make you Famous.''
TOMMY HILFIGER.
Suddenly, he is everywhere.
Walk through Norfolk State University campus or down the Virginia Beach Boardwalk and what you'll see is a sea of Hilfiger's clothes, with his name emblazoned on T-shirts, shorts, sweats and jackets. Young African Americans are walking billboards for the designer.
But who is Hilfiger and why are rappers Rae Kwon, Grand Puba and a host of others singing his praises?
``He is an incredible merchandiser,'' said Ruth P. Rubinstein, fashion sociologist and author of ``Dress codes: Meaning and messages in American Culture.''
``He takes the colors that appeal to African Americans - bright and striking - and uses them.''
Hilfiger's marketing approach is not incidental. He has carefully cultivated African American youth - particularly the label-conscious MTV generation - by appearing on shows like VH1 flanked by rappers who say that the only thing they'll wear is Hilfiger.
His calculated efforts have rewarded him with a cultish following, and he has crossed the threshold from unknown designer to media celebrity.
When asked about his cornering of the young African-American market, Hilfiger, who is white, denies that he caters to it and says that he designs for everybody.
Fashion, of course, isn't just about functional duds that cover our bodies. Fashion is - and always was - about lifestyle.
And for the very impressionable twentysomethings, it's about who they are.
Wearing identifiable labels, Rubinstein says, is an act that gives the younger generation identity and power.
``It implies wealth,'' said 20-year-old Demar Alley, an NSU student who wears Hilfiger. ``I gain confidence wearing Tommy Hilfiger.''
And whether we like it or not, fashion is also about the status we hold in society.
``When someone is wearing Hilfiger,'' said 21-year-old NSU student Andre Howell, ``I think, `Hey, he must be doing pretty good, because he is wearing Hilfiger.' ''
That would be a fair assumption, because a Hilfiger-heavy wardrobe will definitely sap the bank account. A simple T-shirt runs about $35, a tri-color cotton knit shirt was spotted at $78 locally, and lightweight windbreakers cost about $100. While the prices are high in the Hilfiger boutiques found in department stores, including the major retailers in Hampton Roads, merchandise from previous seasons can be found at a discount at the Hilfiger outlet in the Berkley Commons shopping complex in Williamsburg.
Interestingly, Hilfiger may have unwittingly achieved some form of fashion desegregation.
Fashion segregation is a topic the industry seldom talks about. Few designers want to be associated with any particular segment of the population. It used to be, as one insider said, the kiss of death.
``When the U.S. was more of a segregated society,'' said Jack Herschlag, director of the National Association of Men's Sportswear Buyers, ``there was no possible crossover of men's fashions between blacks and whites.''
With 478 million in annual sales and 1,300 department stores carrying his merchandise, Hilfiger cannot possibly just design for African Americans.
He is backed by a major Hong Kong corporation, has 1,000 employees worldwide and is listed on the stock exchange. Dozens of licensees produce everything from socks to eyewear bearing his name, and this fall, he'll be introducing a womenswear collection.
The 44-year-old designer has toiled in the fashion industry since the 1970s, when he owned a successful chain of shops in upstate New York. He began offering his own designs to his customers, and the rest is history.
The fashion industry, however, didn't embrace him wholeheartedly. He was, for years, snubbed by an industry that considered him a good merchandiser capable of packaging and marketing but who lacked real design talents.
Last year, that industry awarded him the Menswear Designer of the Year award.
What immediately stands out in Hilfiger's collections is his inimitable signature. One senses that this man isn't happy riding that fashion fence.
His clothes are not for the meek. They are simple in design, yet bold in color.
Bright yellows, flaming reds and royal blues are color-blocked on much of his clothes. His name is placed ostentatiously on every garment, running across the chest or along a sleeve.
His logo is a reflection of his own design philosophy - strong and bold.
In an industry that lives and dies by its own laws of perception, a logo can make or break a manufacturer.
Hilfiger's is a marketing feat of genius. It's neither cutesy like the once-ubiquitous Izod crocodile nor elitist like Ralph Lauren's Polo. It's a '90s logo, clean in design, bold and devoid of flourishes.
``He is absolutely on the mark,'' says Herschlag of the Association of Men's Sportswear Buyers.
Herschlag credits popular culture for making designers household names, and last year's first VH1 Fashion and Music Awards proved the undeniable link between fashion and music.
``Today,'' he says, ``music is interracial, and black male models are the hottest thing on the runways.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photo by LAWRENCE JACKSON\The Virginian-Pilot
``When someone is wearing Hilfiger, I think, `Hey, he must be doing
pretty good,' '' says NSU student Andre Howell.
Color photo by Lawrence Jackson
Norfolk State University students Demar Alley, left, and Andre
Howell model their Tommy Hilfiger wardrobes.
Photo
Tommy Hilfiger by CNB