contemporary monkey

fashion faux pas: le beret est essential!

Forget about the art, the point of London’s annual Frieze Art Fair is to be an affected part of the art. It’s now my favourite thing about this typically posy British art fair – the living, breathing, accountants during the week, cool guys by weekend, semi-conscious sculptures milling around casually as cute art collectors. What other industry can you think of where the civilians come dressed like the heroes? Do you dine at your favourite restaurant in checkered trousers? Shop at the supermarket in an apron? Drop into a Birmingham Gentlemen’s club without a shirt? There’s real magnetism going on amongst the art crowd, but I doubt it goes the other way. Damien Hirst probably doesn’t dress up like an account executive, or a gallery girl (Grayson Perry on the other hand…).

best dressed man: Grayson Perry

Even that most witless and dim of the homo sapien, the English football supporter, is aware of la limitation de la couture du moment. There is no plumber that will slink to his seat in a rowdy, Chelsea versus Arsenal derby, catwalking to his seat in silver football boots and multi-coloured Petr Cech helmet. Art collectors and followers, however, are a brother from another mother. Looking around at Frieze, you’d think the typical West End Londoner was a card carrying artist. I’ve known only a few real artists, but they don’t, and never have, looked anything like the people ambling thoughtfully, but purposefully, amongst the merchandise on offer at Frieze. I don’t think I’ve even seen a single artist profiled in a magazine that looks anything like Friezers. However, as artists are busy creating stuff from messy material, they tend not to be wearing anything that screams Selfridges. In England, you probably couldn’t tell an artist from a farmer; so why is it that the hangers-on of the local art community feel the need to look so pseudo-arty? It’s not as if someone is going to ask them to dive into the thick of things to re-create a cor-ten sculpture, or add their own vision of Man’s Inhumanity to Man.

There is an undisclosed art-drone uniform, and the Frieze-ettes seem to have let slip the particulars amongst the membership. The time spent sorting out hair-do’s, scarves, beards, ponytails, colourful trainers, £300 distressed waistcoats, and that tattiest of all ensemble piece: the French beret, is time spent not doing something else. Like looking at, and talking about, art. On the positive side, at least they smell nice. Not like those filthy artists.