We already knew that sometime Presidential candidate John Edwards cheated on his wife -- while she was battling cancer.  And that he spent almost 2 years denying paternity of his daughter, despite all evidence to the contrary.  So perhaps it should come as no shock to be told that Edwards also attempted to lie with his fashion labels.

According to a new book by Andrew Young, formerly Edwards' loyal associate and partner in deception, Edwards had the author remove a "made in the USA" label from his suit to sew in place of Edwards'  own "made in Italy" label prior to a union-sponsored event in Las Vegas.  The alleged alteration wasn't illegal, unless Edwards tries to resell the mislabeled item, but it does seem in keeping with the rest of Edwards' execrable ethics. 

With pseudo-patriotic stitching switches like that one, it's no wonder the U.S. garment industry is concerned about maintaining domestic production.  Or that the theme of an excellent ALMA event at the Italian Consulate in New York last week was "Protecting 'Made in Italy' through Intellectual Property Law."  (Nice speaking to you!) 

Oh, and John?  When you're done pushing the buttons of garment manufacturers on both sides of the Atlantic, you might consider giving Andrew his label back.

Via WSJ. 

Magistrate Judge Theodore H. Katz of the Southern District of New York must be glad that getting dressed for work involves hiding his suit under a black robe.  After having his decision in JA Apparel Corp. v. Abboud overturned by the Second Circuit, reading another round of "hefty" briefs from the corporation and the designer, and writing a  new 59-page opinion released yesterday, the last thing any judge would want to think about is menswear. 

Still, the name game may not be over yet.  While the designer may use his name in a descriptive fashion that is not likely to cause confusion with the JOSEPH ABBOUD trademark he sold to JA Apparel, the parties will likely continue to spar over details like the size and placement of Mr. Abboud's name in his print advertising. 

A bit sad, really, to consider all of the creative layouts and ad pages that could've been purchased with the money spent on legal fees -- unless, of course, you're doing the billing.

Previous posts:  A Rose By Any Other Name, More Name Games: Joseph Abboud, Still More Name Games: Joseph Abboud

For the online discount retailer Gilt Groupe, it's a Monday.

This morning's comment thread on a routine Gilt blog post about an upcoming theme sale -- merch to make those New Year's resolutions a bit more palatable -- turned into a forum for concern about the alleged sale of a counterfeit handbag on the site.  After Zun39 posted a claim that a previously purchased Cole Haan bag was fake, but that (s)he was keeping it anyway, other users responded with concern.  After all, approximately 50-80% off retail is a tremendous bargain, but only if the product is real in the first place.

Gilt should be proud of its loyal member/customer base, however.  Dozens of satisfied customers joined the thread to contradict the allegation.  Many surmised that Zun39 was from a competing site, perhaps engaging in a bit of sock puppetry -- so last decade.  By the time that Gilt CEO Susan Lyne weighed in to note that Gilt does not sell fakes and in fact deals directly with Cole Haan as a "brand partner," the extra assurance was almost unnecessary.   

Nevertheless, the consumer anxiety apparently provoked by the post speaks to a real concern.  It's one thing to spot fake merchandise on a street corner; it's quite another to figure out whether a website is selling the real thing or not.  Gilt is an authorized discount seller of each brand featured on the site and posts a guarantee of authenticity with each product description.  But the success of Gilt Groupe, its French predecessor Vente-privee, and other legitimate online discounters like Rue La La, Ideeli, and OutNet has spawned many copycat sites that only pretend to sell the real thing -- often at prices low enough to be irresistible but higher than those for admitted "replicas."

As always, Counterfeit Chic's rule for the cautious consumer looking for an online bargain is caveat emptor.  But Gilt, like other established sites, really is golden.  

As cultural property goes, there may be no symbol more contested than the swastika.  But whether it calls to mind Hitler's horrors or Hindu/Buddhist blessings, one place that Counterfeit Chic didn't expect to see it was on the new Marc Jacobs Fluo Passementary Lily Hobo bag at Barneys. 


True, Marc's presumably inadvertent passementerie faux pas is a left-facing version rather than the right-facing symbol used by Nazis and other right-wing nasties, but it still packs a an unpleasant psychological punch for the unwary shopper.  As in right hook.  

This isn't the first time in recent memory that a swastika has found its way onto an otherwise innocuous bag.  In 2007, the Spanish fast-fashion chain Zara reportedly recalled a bag decorated with cheery flowers, bicycles, and yes, a swastika.  Perhaps Mrs. Jacobs' charming son will consider doing the same.  In the meantime, however, travelers to Germany and other countries that legally restrict the display of the infamous symbol should play it safe and choose one of Marc's other designs for spring.


P.S. For an in-depth study of actual fashion in Germany from the end of WWI through the Third Reich, check out Prof. Irene Guenther's Nazi Chic?

Counterfeit Chic is incredibly surprised and honored to have been named among the top 100 law blogs -- sorry, blawgs -- by the ABA Journal.  (L)aw, shucks, guys -- thanks.  Given that "Fashion Law" wasn't even a recognized field when I started writing, it's a victory for legal fashionisti everywhere to have Counterfeit Chic among the top 10 in the "Practice Specific" category. 

On a personal level, I'm particularly touched since life's been too busy to post as regularly as usual this semester.  (And if you think that Counterfeit Chic has been neglected, you should see my houseplants.)  

The good news is that Counterfeit Chic's wonderful readers, email correspondents, and now the ABA Journal editors -- not to mention the end of the semester -- have inspired me to fire up the old laptop and get back to writing on the 1-2am shift.  As for you all, please get out there and VOTE for your favorite in each of 10 categories!  (You'll have to sign in, but it's quick and painless.) 

And before the music starts and I get pulled off the stage by glamorous amazons, let me also congratulate colleagues and friends who made the list -- and those who didn't but surely deserve recognition for all of their hard work.

 

Lee Eisenberg is.  And now the former Esquire editor-in-chief and Land's End creative director has written a new book,  Shoptimism, to explore how we're sold products, why we buy them, and ultimately -- in the words of the subtitle -- Why the American Consumer Will Keep on Buying No Matter What.

Interestingly, even in the depths of a recession as our buying behavior has changed forever (or at least we've vowed that it has), Lee isn't rushing to condemn consumerism.  Instead, he's more interested in the "is" than the "ought," and he's done everything from becoming a Target employee (briefly) to researching the neuroscience of shopping in his quest to explain both the sell and the buy.  In the tradition of insightful books like Rob Walker's Buying In and Paco Underhill's Why We Buy, Lee holds up a magnifying mirror to his readers while we shop -- and ultimately reassures us that we don't look fat in that.    

And yes, there's even a descent into the world of counterfeit goods, with your favorite law prof playing Virgil to Lee's Dante for a visit to Canal Street.  (In chapter 15 -- not that you should read that bit first!)

Has Colbie Caillat plunged into shark-infested waters with the "Fallin' For You" video from her Breakthrough album?  Watch the video here, or just check out the image below.  There's something awfully familiar about that surfboard...

...or is there?  It's not quite the Louis Vuitton toile, and the initials are "JN" rather than "LV."  In the context of the video, it's just the sort of obvious fake that the comically less-than-appealing guy who's not Colbie's type -- but whom she's falling for anyway -- might own. 

We've all seen imitation goods so poorly rendered that they wouldn't fool a myopic Martian on a dark night.  And there must be a market out there beyond mere video fiction, or LV look-alikes wouldn't keep showing up on shady street corners and in dark corners of the internet, next to the "Prado" and "Channel" bags.  But why would any self-respecting counterfeiter turn out such bad fakes?

It turns out there's method to the madness.  In theory, these inept imitations could allow a manufacturer/importer/seller to avoid liability under the rationale that there's no likelihood of consumer confusion.  In practice, however, courts don't like apparent bad actors.  Take a look at the evidence from a case decided last year, Louis Vuitton Malletier v. Ly USA, Inc. et al.:

Not even close.  But to say that the district court didn't buy the "Ly" would be an understatement; the total judgment in favor of LV, including attorney's fees, totaled over $3.5 million. (Appeal pending.) 

So, Colbie, a word of advice:  Don't take the plunge.  He's not worth it!   

Fashion flashes by on the runway in minutes, but the behind-the-scenes design and production work is much more painstaking and less glamorous.  In New York, that gritty reality of fashion production -- so key to turning creative visions into actual clothing -- is being eroded by rising rents, the movement of manufacturing overseas, and the potential re-zoning of New York's Garment District. 

Didn't realize that there was a specially zoned area for fashion production in NYC?  Or a long and influential history of garment manufacturing here?  Check out the documentary film Schmatta tonight at 9pm on HBO.  (An early copy didn't arrive in the mail as promised, so no review -- but I'll probably take a look anyway.)

Then, to learn more about the current concerns of those who fear losing the crucial remaining production capacity left in NYC, read the op-ed from Nanette Lepore and Robert Savage that was published in the New York Times on (of course) Labor Day.  And take a break this Wednesday at noon and head over the the Button & Needle sculpture (7th Avenue & 39th Street) for a "Save the Garment Center" rally. 

The dress code is fashion-forward, of course.

Is Michelle Obama the new Barbie?

First she chooses an inaugural gown by Jason Wu, who got his start designing dresses for dolls.  Now Brooklyn-based sculptor Jason Feinberg has created a series of Michelle Obama dolls -- er, make that "action figures" -- wearing dresses in which Mrs. O appeared during the campaign.  Yes, there are the red-and-black Narciso Rodriguez from the acceptance speech in Grant Park, the purple Maria Pinto "fist bump" sheath, and the black-and-white Donna Ricco dress from White House/Black Market that entranced watchers of "The View." 

While the First Lady made her displeasure with Ty's "Sweet Sasha" and "Marvelous Malia" dolls known, it's unclear whether she'll object to seeing her own image in plastic -- or whether it would be good politics to attempt to decapitate the dolls with a right of publicity claim.  (Yes, she's a public figure and the First Amendment protects speech; no, these dolls don't seem to constitute commentary of any sort.)  Suffice it to say that the action figures were not authorized, but that overt legal action is not terribly likely.

And what of the designers whose dresses have made fashion history?  Paradoxically, if Feinberg had reproduced the dresses themselves and sold them in a Brooklyn boutique, their original designers would have had little or no claim under U.S. law.  However, the same may not be true of the 6-inch versions. 

Let's consider each dress individually.  Apart from the purple Pinto, which is probably too simple to trigger any sort of protection (belt sold separately), the doll-maker may run a slight risk of playing (court)house with his creations.  Either Donna Ricco herself or whoever created the black-and-white fabric pattern might have a copyright claim, depending on how closely Feinberg copied the print.  And if either Narciso or Donna created a sketch of his or her respective dress before stitching it, the drawing (though not the dress) would be subject to copyright -- making the doll theoretically an infringing derivative work.  Of course, Feinberg presumably copied the dolls' dresses from a source other than the designers' original sketches (if any), most likely a press photograph.  That brings up another copyright issue entirely, one with which Shepard Fairey is all too familiar.  But then, which copyrighted photos served as Feinberg's source? 

At the end of the day, the doll designs strike Counterfeit Chic as more darling than daring, legally speaking.  Perhaps a coordinating Pennsylvania Avenue Dream House will be the sculptor's next project?

Many thanks to longtime reader Jamie Kiburz for the tip!

Via the Chicago Tribune.

Alexander McQueen may have incorporated his signature skull motif into this fall's "Faithful" motorcycle jacket bootie (below left), but it wasn't enough to scare away a true pirate.  Steve Madden copies creative shoe designers so frequently and so, well, faithfully that it's often quicker to identify the few changes than to catalog all of the similarities.  In this case of the Seryna bootie (below right), only the substitution of a plain zipper pull and a few minor details of construction (quality of materials, sharpness of the foldover points) give away the game.

The real difference this time around, however, is that the knocked-off designer hasn't accepted being K.O.'d -- and the next round will take place in federal court.

But wait, you say, U.S. law doesn't protect clothing designs against copying.  Hence Steve Madden's apparent business strategy:  copy everything from sole to shoelace, but avoid the legally secured trademark. 

While the complaint isn't yet available online, lawyers for Alexander McQueen are part of an emerging trendlet, namely a return to trade dress claims.  Ever since the Supreme Court severely limited the availability of trade dress protection for product configurations almost a decade ago, such claims have been few and far between -- and as a practical matter limited to famous, classic designs or design elements that have been around for years.  The secondary meaning requirement hasn't disappeared, but determined attorneys representing clients from Louis Vuitton (against Dooney & Bourke) to Trovata (against Forever 21) have been working to reinvigorate this particular avenue of intellectual property protection.  Success has been limited thus far, but legal reasoning springs eternal. 

For Alexander McQueen, this means noting that Faithful devotees have included Lindsay Lohan, Mary-Kate Olsen, Rihanna, and the photographers who fall at their feet.  Surely, the argument goes, such extensive editoral notice has established a link in the public mind between design and designer sufficient to qualify for trade dress protection.  Time -- and the Southern District of New York -- will tell. 

From a big picture perspective, if this trickle of trade dress claims continues, will it have a significant effect on the frequent copying of creative clothing?  

Yes and no.  Established, well-known labels with large marketing budgets and/or celebrity clients -- in other words, those who could demonstrate that some of their most popular designs have secondary meaning -- would have more protection than they do now.  Of course, those are also the labels least in need of additional protection, as many customers already seek out their (legally protected) trademarks.  While counterfeiters of those trademarks abound, there is at least law on the books against such activity.  Emerging designers, by contrast, are less likely to have their still-obscure trademarks counterfeited than to have their designs copied.  And since emerging designers are relatively unknown and their designs are unfamiliar to the public, they are far less likely to qualify for trade dress protection and would suffer by comparison.     

Whatever the strength of the trade dress trendlet, it will be quite a few seasons before its full impact becomes apparent.  In the meantime, Alexander McQueen will simply have to hope that his clients keep the faith.

Via WWD. 

With the first crisp days of autumn upon us and the semester well underway, it's time for a counterfeit coffee break -- this time courtesy of Nescafe.  

"Really?" you ask.  "The brown powder that simulates fresh-brewed coffee when hot water is added -- about as convincingly as dirt might?" 

Yes, really -- but with a twist.  Nescafe has a new ad campaign accusing Starbucks, whose own trademark has been copied far and wide, of knocking off Nescafe's infamous instant coffee.  At much higher prices.  (In Counterfeit Chic terms, it's "knocked up" rather than "knocked off" -- but that doesn't make it any tastier.) 

Of course, the corporate baristi behind the Starbucks Via Ready Brew are well aware that you can't be held liable for copying a mere idea.  Even a bad one.

As for me, make mine tea.

Via Idea Sandbox and Gothamist.  

Fashion design is seasonal, ephemeral, and fast-moving. 

Traditional crafts, including textiles, are timeless, long-lasting, and slow to evolve.

UNESCO, however, has decided to examine the common ground between these two "polar opposites" in its first Forum on Cultural Industries, convened today in Monza, Italy.  The focus is on commonality -- fashion and crafts "share the same values of excellence, innovation and creativity" -- and on the culture sector's ability to contribute to both economic and social development.

From the sound of things, it will be quite the global quilting bee -- with Lanvin's master artist/craftsman Alber Elbaz at the center of the hive. 

Does she...or doesn't she?  Only her hairdresser (and makeup artist, brow stylist, cosmetic dentist, dermatologist, plastic surgeon, lingerie salesperson, and Photoshopper) knows for sure. 

Clairol's famous ad campaign may only date back to 1956, but humans have engaged in artificial enhancements of our looks ever since one of our prehistoric ancestors rubbed a bit of ochre on her skin -- no doubt scandalizing her future mother-in-law.  Some of those enhancements are obvious and completely unremarkable in modern Western culture (e.g. pale pink nail polish); others are more subtle and still a bit clandestine (that little nip/tuck over the holidays).  The same is true of representations of ourselves.  Surely medieval portrait painters chose flattering shades to depict their wealthy patrons, and presumably omitted a wrinkle here or a blemish there.  Today, photo editing software makes the process quicker, easier, and more universal. 

Want "natural" beauty?  Go camping.  Or maybe to Berkeley.

A member of the French Parliament, Valerie Boyer, begs to differ.  Concerned about the negative effects of enhanced media images of women's bodies, she and 50 other legislators have proposed adding warning labels to such images.  The text, which Boyer believes should apply to everything from press photos to advertisements and product packaging to art photos, would read, "Photograph retouched to modify the physical appearance of a person." 

The effort is part of Boyer's ongoing campaign to combat body image-related psychological problems, in particular eating disorders, among young women.  Last year, she was the primary proponent of legislation intended to outlaw advocating "extreme thinness."  The goal is undeniably laudable -- and quite timely, given the skeletal parade that has just walked the runways of New York, is currently in London, and will next head to Milan and Paris.  But is it likely to be effective?  Is there a scientific link between undeniably unrealistic images and eating habits -- and if so, why is obesity on the rise?  Given the availability of "before" and "after" pictures online -- some authorized, some not -- aren't image-obsessed individuals in particular already aware of the prevalence of digital enhancements in their favorite magazines?  And in any case, isn't it a bit overbroad to require a warning label on every image that fixes a stray hair or shiny nose?   

In other words, would a law adding text to virtually every editorial or advertising or art photo out there really add anything at all? 

Intellectual property law doesn't eliminate copying -- any more than homicide laws eliminate murder or rules about crossing the street eliminate jaywalking.  Law is just one tool used to combat unwanted activity.  Smart creators, whether in IP-protected fields or not, have a few more tools in the box and tricks up their sleeves, including one that I've frequently discussed:  Knock yourself off -- before the other guys do!

In the fashion industry, those auto-knockoffs are more elegantly known as "diffusion lines."  Sometimes they work, and sometimes they don't.  Well-capitalized designers like Ralph Lauren and Giorgio Armani have created whole families of brands, with loyal clients at every level and plenty of crossover customers who may splurge or scrimp, depending on the occasion.  On the other hand, Halston's notorious creation of "Halston III" for J.C. Penney in the early 80s nearly destroyed the value of his name, and even in the current era of fast-fashion partnerships, designers proceed cautiously. 

Now a t-shirt company in Johannesburg has taken the idea one step further.  Love Jozi didn't merely create a diffusion line, which wouldn't make much sense for just t-shirts anyway -- they secretly created a counterfeit line.  Or so it seemed for a couple of years, until they finally revealed their marketing scheme to the press.  The ostensibly fake "Luv Jozi" t-shirts that had been selling briskly on street corners and in dodgier flea markets weren't made-in-China knockoffs at all -- they were deliberately misspelled imitations, complete with a fake website and marketing.


Since the big reveal, Love Jozi continued to sell both lines, the higher priced one with more fashion-forward cuts and designs and the boxier budget version.  A replicable strategy for introducing a diffusion line?  Probably not, or at least not for most established brands.  We're talking misspelled t-shirts here, not high-end handbags whose buyers wouldn't be thrilled to learn that the same company had been secretly selling real fakes.  When it's an indie company in South Africa, the customer may appreciate being let in on the joke; if it were a venerable European fashion house, she might not be quite as amused.  Even Love Jozi couldn't pull it off again, having fooled everyone once -- in fact, it would be interesting to see what would happen if the company had to protect its "Love Jozi" trademark against the sales of actual counterfeits. 

All in all, far more clever and unexpected than the usual press release crediting  a new diffiusion line to retailers' demands for lower price points or even the designer's desire to dress a wider range of customers.  Love Jozi's t-shirts are cute, but I'd love/luv to see what the brains behind this coup could do if they were in marketing!

Many thanks to all of you who emailed the story, including the first, longtime Countefeit Chic reader Pam Chestek!

Are all the good fragrance names taken? 

Last month, it was Ali Hewson's company, Nude Brands Ltd., suing Stella McCartney in an attempt to block the release of "Stella Nude" by L'Oreal.  (Injunction denied, but the trademark infringement case is pending in British court.  Not to be rude to Nude, but did you think it through before you sued?  The fragrances Nude by Bill Blass and Bijan Nude have been around for years.)

Now WWD reports that Abercrombie & Fitch is defending its "Fierce" men's cologne against Beyonce's forthcoming fragrance by Coty.  While the recent announcement of the planned launch didn't name the scent -- presumably because of the trademark dispute -- Beyonce last week filed an intent-to-use trademark application for "Sasha Fierce," the name of her alter ego.  The complaint, with exhibits, is here. 


Fragrance fights are especially fierce because under most countries' laws (including the U.K.and U.S.), only the scents' trademarks and trade dress have protection, while the "juice" has none.  Thus the marketing relies heavily on name and image, rather than the actual product.  While it's unlikely that "Stella Nude" smells much like the scents of the "Nude" skincare line or that a "Sasha Fierce" fragrance would mimic the "Fierce" citrus scent that A&F not only bottles and sells but sprays throughout its retail outlets with the intent of having all garments leave the store with the scent attached to them, the names alone are key to the products' value.  If similar brand names are likely to cause confusion, the concern is that consumers may sniff no further. 

After all, what exactly is a fierce scent?  Whatever it may be, expect it to be wafting from a courtroom any time now.

Given human instincts with respect to what is edible and what isn't, it's amazing that we've survived as a species.  The average child won't even consider putting brussels sprouts or cauliflower in her mouth, but when she sees a tasty pile of lead paint chips, it's snacktime.  And then there's the problem of too many uses for a good thing:  learning to fasten buttons if fun; trying to swallow them is even more fun.

Sadly, our aptitude for eating all the wrong things sometimes leads to tragedy -- and not just on the scale.  Several years ago, a small boy died after swallowing a lead-infused charm given away with Reebok children's footwear.  The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission subsequently identified many other potentially toxic pieces of children's jewelry, with labels ranging from Juicy Couture to Twentieth Century Fox.  Amidst the bold headlines, the recall of nearly a million tainted toys by Mattel alone, and a diplomatic dustup with China over its export of unsafe products, a desire for additional protective legislation was formed.  Last year, Congress responded with the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act.

Never heard of CPSIA?  Count your blessings -- and put your plans to roll out an adorable line of children's clothing before Christmas on hold.  It's an act with so many ramifications that even the federal agency charged with implementing it hasn't figured out all of the details yet, though it's already gone into effect.  The basic theme involves new limits on lead content, both in the surface coatings of children's items and in the underlying substrate, and restrictions on a class of chemicals whose name looks something like Bill the Cat coughing up a hairball:  phthalates.  (Pronounce it without the initial "ph.")  These are the compounds that might be used to make your rubber duckie soft and squeezable, as opposed to as hard as PVC pipe, and apparently you really don't want them incorporated into your baby's bib or your toddler's Halloween costume.

Luckily there are dedicated souls out there who live and breathe product safety rules and international trade laws.  And so it was that your favorite law prof spent several extremely informative and surprisingly entertaining hours during Fashion Week listening to David Callet and Robert Stang, both of the Greenberg Traurig law firm, and Louann Spirito of SGS, a consumer products testing company,  review the latest developments involving CPSIA and the fashion industry, as well as a glimpse of what's next on the safety and sustainability horizon.

Who knew that Fall 2009's ubiquitous metal studs could cause such nightmares if they were to be translated into children's wear -- or that the fate of an entire shipment could get caught in the teeth of an untested rogue zipper?  Tailors to the 12-and-under set, beware.   

When Verizon FiOS was celebrating its arrival in New York City, challenging the Time Warner Cable monopoly, Verizon called its service "the biggest thing to hit Canal Street since the knockoff purse."  At the time, Counterfeit Chic wondered whether that was supposed to be a good thing.

Now a Time Warner Cable ad is extending the comparison, likening Verizon's "fake" HD channels to knockoff "imported" sunglasses...from New Jersey.  Whatever the merits of TWC v. Verizon, the combination of a Canal Street-like setting, the vendor's ambiguous accent, and the rows of handbags, jewelry, and sunglasses are clearly intended to remind you of the time you bought the cheap fake watch that kept time for all of two weeks and turned your wrist green besides -- and to taint the cable company's competition by association. 



Of course, TWC's New Jersey customers may be less than flattered.

Google "eBay" and "counterfeit," and you'll get over half a million hits.

Which is reason enough for the repeatedly sued online marketplace to seek out a bit of couture cred in the form of a partnership with celebrated designer Narciso Rodriguez.  The popularly priced collection, "Narciso Rodriguez for eBay," is planned for next spring.  In the words of the New York Post:

The pact with Rodriguez -- who recently has won notoriety as a favorite designer of First Lady Michelle Obama -- is a victory for eBay, which has long battled its reputation in the fashion world as a venue for cheap knockoffs and deeply discounted, off-season or out-of-style clothing.

For Narciso, it's an opportunity to reach a wider audience, not to mention get paid on time.  In other words, it's a win-win -- everybody gets to "shop victoriously."

And you won't even have to misspell  the name to find a bargain.

Back in the 90s, when I was in law school, Ann Taylor was the go-to store for a young woman who'd just landed her first summer associate position -- or was trying to.  The classic, tailored, Audrey-Hepburn-wins-a-moot-court-competition vibe was just the right thing at the right price point, filling a wardrobe niche for women of all ages and sizes.  The fact that the original Ann Taylor store in New Haven, Connecticut, was just a short walk from campus -- and was also a familiar storefront in seemingly every mall in America -- was a convenient bonus.

Then Ann Taylor lost the plot.  The styles and colors were off, the quality was lacking, and the fits were frumpy.  A young professional woman could do better with Theory or even H&M, and much of Ann's more established clan moved on. 

This season, Ann's got a bit of buzz back, with accessories in particular garnering editorial attention.  And when I wandered into a store and expressed pleasant surprise at some of the pieces on the racks, a sales associate who actually looked happy to be wearing them whispered conspiratorially, "New designer."  Lisa Axelson, most recently at Club Monaco and formerly at Abercrombie & Fitch and Gap/Banana Republic, seems to have an eye for updated classics. 

OK, there are still a few too many fibers that owe their existence to a chemical plant somewhere off the New Jersey Turnpike rather than to sun and rain.  And the costume jewelry is very Lanvin from several years ago via last season's Vera Wang, although not so close as to provoke copyright concerns.  It was the small shoe collection, however, that reavealed a real misstep.

Why, exactly, is a stylistically invigorated and financially savvier Ann Taylor turning Christian Louboutin's "Armadillo" bootie (above left) into plastic-heeled knockoff roadkill (above right)?  From a corporate perspective, AT's route back to success won't be competing with the makers of faster, cheaper copies.  And for the next gen professional customer, facsimile footwear isn't exactly the way to make a good impression on Ms. Hiring Partner -- who may very well own the real thing.  

In fashion, there's nothing more difficult than positioning oneself as an outsider.  If a designer's signature work really is appealing and comprehensible to only a select subcultural few, the label isn't likely to last long.  On the other hand, if those cutting-edge designs have broader marketplace appeal, key elements are likely to be absorbed into the vocabulary of fashion -- and their creator is no longer an outsider with a unique vision but a mainstream trendsetter.  How edgy are Alexander McQueen's signature skulls when they appear on a collaboration between Americana-loving Ralph Lauren and the global charity Toms Shoes?  How eyebrow-raising is YSL's androgynous "Le Smoking" when most Western women now wear trousers more often than skirts? 

Today's New York Times chronicles Rick Owens transformation from a "shadowy figure" with a "creepy aura" to "fashion's most imitated designer" -- an overused designation, to be sure, but one that always invites a photo essay.


The imitator's dilemma is captured nicely at the beginning of the NYT article, which opens not with Owens himself but Maya Yogev, a former Owens apprentice who now offers similar leather jackets under the Grai label:

"I've been told it's kind of copycat," Ms. Yogev said of her work. "That can be kind of frustrating at times." But comparisons to Mr. Owens "can also be useful," she added. "Once you mention his name, everyone is automatically drawn."

True design pirates, of course, are not intent on building artistic reputations and thus flaunt rather than cringe at cries of "copycat," a limitation for an industry that in the absence of law relies in part on social norms to control copying.  For professional designers, however, the line between inspiration and imitation -- or being on trend and being a mere copycat -- has real effects, and not just when the source is recent.  As Teri Agins notes in today's Wall Street Journal, "[D]esigners have a way of tweaking older styles so that they always look newer on the next go-round."  

As for Rick Owens, his growing influence raises a different question:  How does a self-styled outsider respond to becoming mainstream?  Let's just hope it doesn't involve reality television.