012 - Our Very Own Uncanny Valley
We spent the first weekend of September at the Who's Next Fashion Expo in Paris. You wouldn't have known; we didn't do all the things that digital marketing instructs. "Documenting the journey" "vlogging" "posting multiple times a day". We know we need to get with the proverbial programme but bloody hell; we hate it. We like being in the moment. And when the moment includes carrying 60 kgs of product through three international airports, dealing with customs officials and the general frenzied stress of an international expo; some things are better left unphotographed.
Screenshots from a short video we took as we walked in on day two of Who's Next.
Who's Next was definitely designed and built to be Instagramable. Visitors were greeted, not with a red carpet, but carpets of real grass laid on tarmac that lead into the gigantic Porte de Versailles (we were tickled by the fact that the French Armed Forces Ministry was next door). It was sensory overload: a darkened maze scented with artificial something, artfully placed textiles and furnishings giving way to this vast space that had been curated to the nines. There was a bit of everything: beachwear, evening gowns, accessories, casual wear, denim, shoes, women's wear, and on and on and on.
Quick shot of two of the other booths.
There were real and fake flowers everywhere. In the booths, on the rails, on the clothes – an abundance of florals. It was eerie. Imagery so far from the urban sprawls we live in and dress for. With our bullet shaped paper clips, war and death imagery, Gündem stood out like a sore thumb. It is easier to feel intimidated when you know you don't belong.
The stalls were arranged in such a way that invisible borders appeared. In the suppliers section, there were several Indian and Chinese companies. Walking past once, I spied a few folks sitting around the table in their stall, eating pani puri out of tiffin boxes and thought to myself: "those are my people." The Chinese booths were offering beer and wine to anyone stopping by. Those are our people, too. The quality of the textiles at some of the Indian companies were unreal, other-worldly, heavenly.
As Gündem, this was our first time attending a B2B expo. We were not surprised when on the first day, an older gentleman told us in no uncertain terms that he was VERY offended by the Resistance tee. He explained why, as a Lebanese Christian, he believed Hezbollah should never disarm. He was even more dismayed when he saw the Charm El Sheikh tee: "Why did you put a jihadist on a t-shirt?!"
Our humble little booth on day two.
A lady explained in part-English, part-French that our designs are "too heavy." Why don't we do pretty florals instead, the cloth and print quality is evidently good, why expect the customer to deal with these intense and meaning-laden designs? I could see she was not wrong in her own way; much of the casual clothing on offer was exactly that: unoffensive and easy-to-digest. Reactions like these are always welcome because they remind us of what we are as a brand. Real streetwear, what we grew up around and grew up wearing, should be offensive and thought provoking.
There was a DTF print tee at a neighbouring stand which read 'Lobster Lovers Club'. What does that even mean. Is the wearer signalling a very specific fetish? Or is it aspirational: they want to be able to afford lobster regularly and do so by wearing a €19.99 tee where the print will peel off after a bunch of washes? Who's going to believe the wearer has any good taste – in clothes or in food – wearing that?
I get it: maybe the majority of people don't think as deeply as we do. The headlines stay as abstract sentences that ‘happen to other people, elsewhere’; they are not meant to inspire tangible objects. Yet we do get inspired by what is happening around us. I gotta ask: Do you feel overburdened, dear customer?
We spent a fair amount of time at one of the Chinese booths, checking out their latest textile tech (insane and beyond anything Turkey can hope to do) and having a beer. By 4 pm on the last day, they were busy getting drunk and facetiming their colleagues back in Guangzhou, who were 干杯'ing with Baiju. The kind of work-life balance we strive to have – inşallah someday – at Gündem.
Trying to colour match off our business card at one of the Chinese booths to find the right pull cord for one of our next products.
I met a lovely South African gentleman who farmed Nile Crocodiles and produced beautiful leather; some tough like armour, others soft as can be. His family have been doing it for over 30 years and I couldn't help but ask if crocodiles, after a while, developed any sort of affection for their keepers. He understood why I was asking: most other reared and herded animals do develop bonds with humans. Never, he said. To them, all we are, is something to devour. No wonder the ancient Egyptians thought of them as the embodiment of a god.
I packed up our stand thinking about death rolls: crocodiles do not chew; they rapidly spin their bodies so that the prey they have sunk their teeth into are torn into swallowable pieces. A limb, half of a leg. Much like the way the mannequins and the flowers came apart.