As anybody from Maine will attest, the state is divided into two parts: the civilized and the uncivilized. The civilized area consists of beautiful beachside towns, lobsters, lighthouses, and other endearingly picturesque sights. This is where I live. The uncivilized territories are largely inhabited by old men on potato farms, and pine trees. This is what everybody else thinks of when they think of Maine.
Since I've come to college, I've pretty much heard it all concerning my home state. And for some reason, when people ask where I'm from, Maine seems about as surprising and exotic a locale as Fiji. Either that or people just can't believe that anybody actually lives there.
"Oh, you're from Maine? Do you have electricity there?(snicker snicker)"
"Maine, huh? That's the place with the moose, right?"
My personal favorite: "You're from Maine?? Really? Really??? Huh. (Pause) You just don't seem like you'd be from Maine, that's all."
Now you may be asking yourself, what is the state of Maine's relevance to a fashion column? And this is precisely the issue I'm going to clear up, once and for all. Sure, Maine has lobsters and moose and beaches, and if you go far enough up north, Stephen King and Sasquatches, but there is more to this state than what's on the postcards. What many people don't know is that Maine has been, if not the apex of the fashion industry, a critical driving force behind many fashion moments over the past decade.
Hogwash, you say? Well let's just bring it back to the grunge trend of the early '90s. Okay, Seattle and Nirvana both had something to do with it. But before Doc Marten's and smeared eyeliner became mainstream fashion, Maine was already miles ahead of the fashion pack. First of all, L.L. Bean, the apple of Maine's eye, had been selling out of flannel shirts, long underwear, and big grimy boots long before Marc Jacobs sent combats down the Perry Ellis runway. Second, puffy vests and layered clothing have always been fashionable where winter weather regularly hovers around 0 degrees Fahrenheit. Third, as Maine is a haven for Old Money WASPs trying to cleanse themselves of capitalism, conspicuous displays of cash have always been considered gauche. Grunge meant that being in fashion didn't mean looking tarty. Or expensive. This was particularly popular at my high school, a private prep school where everyone liked to pretend they were maligned street urchins. No doubt Karl Lagerfeld and his fashion henchmen scouted the Maine scene for inspiration.
Maine can also be credited with the "sport-utility" movement of the mid-1990s, a look that is still maintained by countless weekend warriors anxious to forget they've sold their souls to investment banking. With its roads full of SUVs and citizens decked out head to toe in Patagonia and North Face, Maine is a welcome stop for corporate adventurers seeking to commune with nature (or at least look like they do.) In essence, the state perfectly embodies the Urban Explorer look popularized by Nike and every other designer making a statement about the concrete jungle. Arctic storms and flesh-searing winds will give anyone that rosy-cheeked look, rendering makeup obsolete. Environmental consciousness is inevitable: a walk down one of the many cobblestone streets in heels calls to mind a fox in a steel trap. And when the "Manifest Destiny" look went couture, what better to put in your Chanel water bottle-carrier than our very own Poland Springs, the underground-chic, girl-about-town's alternative to Evian?
Following on the heels of the Urban Adventurer trend was the Abercrombie and Fitch boom of a few years ago, arguably the biggest boost to Maine's ego since McDonald's introduced McLobster Rolls. Abercrombie and Fitch was not only clearly inspired by the unerring fashion sense of Maine natives, but also let the rest of America know what a swinging place Maine was. Once again, Maine youth and mainstream fashion formed another symbiotic relationship. Every Mainer aged 12 to 25, from Portland to Presque Isle, wore Abercrombie tip to toe, while the catalog flattered the Maine lifestyle to a nationwide audience, affirming that flannel-swathed threesomes and naked wood-chopping were indeed all the rage. With its studiously faded chinos and cropped wool sweaters, Abercrombie and Fitch was L.L. Bean's slutty little sister, proving that plain, uninteresting clothes could be fashionable if manipulated in the right catalog. Abercrombie and Fitch portrayed Maine as living in a new, R-rated, cellophane-wrapped light, confirming that one could be a preppy New Englander and do it with four chicks at once.
So you see, Maine and fashion are indeed closely linked, though it might appear otherwise to the naked eye. Of course there are some looks that will never catch on in Maine: any '80s fans, cyber-babes, and polished socialites are urged to stay home, and displays of conspicuous consumption are generally ill-advised. However, if the spring fashion shows are anything to go by, Maine has reappeared on the style radar. Nonchalant hippie style was all the rage, obviously inspired by Maine's throngs of Barenaked Ladies and Phish fans. Flowing shirts with comfortable pajama-sized pants showed up at Gucci. Patchwork influences reigned at Marc Jacobs. Balenciaga dressed down tattered evening tops with army green chinos. Once again, Maine looks to be au courant this season, so break out the Birks (that's Birkenstocks, not Birkin bag) and go native.
