Some brothels have cut prices or added free promotions while others have introduced all-inclusive flat-rate fees. Free shuttle buses, discounts for seniors and taxi drivers, as well as "day passes" are among marketing strategies designed to keep business going.

Yeah, you read that right. AARP members and taxi drivers get discounts, which is probably enough to keep my from dating German taxi drivers or elderly German men for the rest of my natural life.

It gets worse, sort of.

Anke Christiansen, manager of the "GeizHaus," said the effects of the economic crisis were clear. "The regular customers who used to come by two or three times a week are only coming by once or twice a week now."

A "GeizHaus" client, who gave his name as Pascal, said: "Naturally we're all feeling the effects of the crisis." He added that he could no longer afford his usual two or three visits a week.

GeizHaus charges $50 American for sex acts, which means Pascal used to drop $150 every week for sex with a professional sex worker. Therapy costs less than that, dude.

One brothel has an all-you-can-[whatever] policy:

Berlin's "Pussy Club" has attracted media attention with its headline-grabbing "flat rate" — a 70-euro admission charge for unlimited food, drink and sex between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m.

But I'm totally sure the sex workers there are getting their fair share of money, right?

There are, of course, concerns about new sex workers entering the field because of the economic crisis.

[Stephanie Klee, a prostitute in Berlin and former leader of the German association of sex workers] and others said they were alarmed that amateur prostitutes — mostly women with low-paid careers — were increasingly turning to prostitution to make ends meet.

"More and more women are moonlighting on the weekends," said Ahrens. "They're not able to get by with their main job and are in pretty dire straits. For some it works out okay but it's tough for some others and they often don't stay very long.

Well, at the point at which one is sexually servicing elderly men and taxi drivers for half price, participating in all-you-can-fuck days and constantly renegotiating your fees downward, yes, I suppose the women who take up sex work to pay the bills don't find the rewards, such as they are, worth the risks.

Amid Recession, Oldest Profession Gets ‘Creative' [MSNBC]

Of course the feature is supposed to be inspirational. Or aspirational. But while some of the outfits are lovely, others are ridiculous. This "Uptown Classic" is fine. Nice, even.

What temperature is it that both "Undone Ladylike" and "Breezy Seductive" are appropriate? Also, the only place to go wearing that "Breezy Seductive" getup is to bed. In other news, the "'80s Minimalist" pants flatter no one, which is why we left them in the '80s.

You'd better love your arms and thighs if you want to rock that "Comfortably Cute" ensemble. The horizontal stripes on "Sleek Yet Slouchy" ruin it, in my opinion, and you basically have to be a model to get away with a belted tiered skirt ("Chicly Countrified"). Also, "Feminine And Fresh" has that not-so-fresh feeling. We've seen a navy skirt with a white tee before.

I can tell you right now that the blousy top and wide pants of "Neatly Offhand" will make me look even bigger than I already am. "Tomboyish Safari" is a joke, right? "Urbane Nautical" is pretty, though.

No and no.

And here we have "The Closet." The "38 Items You'll Want Right Now." Let's add it up, shall we?

• pencil skirt: $750
• tube skirt: $49
• mini skirt: $200
• boyfriend blazer: $270
• cropped jacket: $198
• tie jacket: $178
• maxi skirt: $99
• skinny belt: $25
• asymmetrical dress: $365
• sheath: $187
• belt: $64
• chain: $370
• ring: $68
• earrings: $78
• bangles: $7
• necklace: $98
• trousers: $245
• pleated pants: $242
• blouse $109
• shell: 175
• tank: $18
• vest: $109
• shirt: $69
• top: $175
• tee: $172
• cardigan: $195
• leopard dress: $160
• clutch: $285
• satchel: $60
• hobo bag: $179
• clutch: $169
• scarf: $30
• thongs: $79
• pumps: $75
• booties: $27
• platforms: $250
• flats: $36
• tank dress: $288
• TOTAL: $6,153

That's just for one month — in June, you're on your own!

Rebecca Traister's "So you still want to date a banker?" asks: why is the media so desperate to trumpet the anachronistic archetype of sugar-daddy and golddigger? In the past few weeks we've been hit over the head with the hoax group Dating A Banker Anonymous (which, as Traister points out, the Times lapped up eagerly in the unpleasant "It's the Economy, Girlfriend!") and the all-too-real douchebaggery of the Washington Post's "Market for Romance Goes From Bullish to Sheepish: Are Guys With Less to Spend Less of a Catch?" in which youngsters complain about how their reduced portfolios have put a crimp in their social lives.

The truth is, those who are pining for the days of free bottle service and the outmoded gender stereotypes it carries are a tiny minority. More to the point, the proliferation of such stories is misleading: in fact, as men lose their jobs in greater numbers than women, the workforce is increasingly female, and right now a female breadwinner is a more common phenomenon than the whiny leech the media is so fond of. So why do we keep reading about the outmoded dynamic of acquisitive strumpet and hapless douche? Traister suggests that in some wise we find it comforting: a sign that cliches are in their heavens and all's right with the world. Just as rom-coms traffic in well-worn stereotypes, so too do we look for their comforting familiarity in our real lives. As the article puts it, "In hard times, we want to be served stuff that is cheap and comforting: meatloaf, Campbell's soup and tales of women and men that conform to our most dated expectations of gender, money and power."

Of course, it's not just that: as much as anything, we want escapism, and these alleged golddiggers make for good copy. Then too, these women are presented, uniformly, as horror stories: a disgusting Other being forced to reap what they sowed while the rest of us sit back in pious judgment. Traister points out that part of this is our cultural love of watching the rich suffer: In a time when it seems like very few of the Haves are getting their just desserts, we're eager to seek retribution where we can find it. But I'd take it a step further, even if it's not a pleasant step: it would seem we, as women, take an especial relish in punishing those women who'd seek to cut the line with anachronistic wiles. In this regard, the phenomenon may be regarded as misogynistic, sure, but a less simple case than Traister would indicate: there's an element of girl-on-girl shaming that's ugly. Where she asks, why do we take comfort in sexist tropes, I'd say, why do we take such pleasure in seeing other women get their comeuppance? The DABA hoax was perpetrated by women, after all, who saw the rage such a phenomenon could provoke, and on both the Times' website and the blogosphere some of the the harshest comments have come from women. It's we who feel a visceral sense of shame and rage when we see the cause betrayed by such naked avidity and such blatant disregard for gains made and opportunities squandered. We may be pushed to the defensive, but it would be disingenuous to suggest there's no relish to such attacks. The fact that we can't see such cases as isolated but feel the need to distance ourselves is sad and telling. To dismiss this as a simple bit of patriarchal nostalgia ironically does us a disservice: while it may be forced upon us, we are complicit.
So You Still Want To Date A Banker? [Salon]

It's The Economy, Girlfriend! [NYT]
Market for Romance Goes From Bullish To Sheepish: Are Guys With Less To Spend Less Of A Catch? [Washington Post]

Earlier:Underemployed D.C. Douchebags Are Depressed By Recession

Nikki Finke posted the story of the DABA girls and the Hollywood frenzy that surrounds them; apparently, several agents were after the women, who eventually signed with United Talent. But perhaps more interesting than the headdesk inducing statement that "Now there's going to be a book, and maybe a movie, and maybe a TV series," about the oh-so-tough life of the DABAs is the vitriolic reaction of the commenters on Finke's Deadline Hollywood site:

Unbelievable. I cannot for the life of me see why anyone would support this. It's not a female-empowerment story, an inspirational love-overcoming-adversity story, or, judging from the "I didn't sign up for this" comments, a stand-by-your-man story. People are hurting everywhere and these bitches are…well, bitching. So telling that, rather than see if there's anything that they could do to help their men, they go hang out with each other and drink and bitch about their reduced allowances instead. This is the kind of story that makes me loathe women ("just remember these guys are math club nerds, girls" - what, but you were fine with it when he was pulling down six-figure bonuses, bitch). And, while I would expect this kind of attitude in LA, it kind of saddens me even more that these are NY girls…

I saw the article. These women are not sympathetic. They dump the banker-types as soon as the bonuses and beach houses cease. One of the banker boyfriends even becomes stressed out and less attentive. Quel Horror ! Golddigger stereotypes. No story here.

Whereas a year ago most of these girls were nothing more than arm candy for their millionaire hubbies, they and their book and TV deals will now be responsible for supporting their broke ass husbands. It IS a new era.

This is where this industry misses it. We're stocked with too many out of touch, privileged players that don't get what the broad swath of America cares about. This is so tone deaf to what is going on for most people. Nobody cares about Carrie Bradshaw and her difficulties with expensive shoes when they are having trouble getting a job and making the rent. Watching a bunch of over-privileged trophy wives bitch about having to cut back isn't a ratings winner today. The door has slammed on this latest gilded age.

So what say YOU, commenters? Will the DABA girls go on to make a kerbillion dollars at the box office, supported by a frilly pink ad campaign and a sassy soundtrack, or are the days of rich girls and their problems crowding up the screens finally coming to an end?

The DABA Girls Get A Hollywood Agent [DeadlineHollywood]
Earlier: Would A DABA Lie To You?

Our source says that StyleCaster's Laney Crowell (who now it appears I knew in college), was fired for "being on the phone with her new agent." Crowell (third from left in the picture seen here) is described as "distraught" and "can't figure out why her [ex] boyfriend is pissed at her."

Same goes for Brandon Davis, new husband of Dawn Spinner Davis, says the source. Apparently, having the entire world think his wife is a dissatisfied gold digger "isn't sitting too well" with him. (At least Dawn implied to the Times that she gets more sex in difficult times.)

We contacted the PR firm for StyleCaster — "the Web's first truly personalized, integrated fashion channel" — and they're confirming Crowell's departure. Here's the official statement:

"Laney played a part in helping to launch StyleCaster. She has a tremendous opportunity in front of her and we wish her success. At this time it was deemed best for Laney to pursue her opportunity while we bring on new talent that can focus all of their time and energy on making StyleCaster the ultimate fashion experience.”

Crowell's StyleCaster blog was updated yesterday, but no mention of the recent... unpleasantness.

Whether it's satire or not— and personally, I think the blog is a satire while the article and the quotes from the DABA meetup seem genuine — the consequences sound real enough.

Earlier: DABA Girls Ain't Messing With No Broke Bankers
Would A DABA Lie To You?

Related: It's The Economy, Girlfriend [NY Times]

NPR's Linda Holmes says the whole thing stinks. It's obviously a hoax, she says, put on by a few women who tapped into our "deep societal hatred of the recession and hatred of privileged women who get away with everything" and turned it into a book deal.

She cites several examples, including the fact that the dabagirls domain was registered on January 16 yet has posts backdated to September, as examples that the whole thing's a fake.

Is it possible? Did we get played by DABAs?

'Dating A Banker Anonymous': Did The New York Times Get Punked? [NPR]
Did The NYT Get Punk'd By The DABA Girls?

Fashionista reports that Laney Crowell, Megan Pertus, and Dawn Spinner (who, if we're playing that Sex and the City 'who's the Carrie' game, I'm totally claiming as my favorite DABA.) are teaming up to write a book, presumably based on their adventures in bankerdating.

Is it too early to start in on the vodka gimlets?

Dabas Get A Book Deal [Fashionista]

Earlier: DABA Girls "Aint Messing With No Broke Bankers"

Take Dawn Spinner Davis. The 26-year-old "beauty writer" — who, incidentally, has stolen my life's dream of confessing marital dissatisfaction to The New York Times while drinking hard liquor — says the bad economy has stressed her husband and strained their marriage: "One of [my husband's] best friends told me that my job is now to keep him calm and keep him from dying at the age of 35," she moans. "It isn't what I signed up for."

Le sigh. But Dawn and her friends aren't just complaining about high stress or tight finances. That would be petty. No. These poor, put-upon ladies have a deeper problem. You see, with the market in a tizzy, Lionel, or Richard, or Heathcliffe or whatever his name is, can't do the one thing a guy without money is good for: lay them right.

One frequent topic among the group is the link between the boardroom and the bedroom. “There’s actually the type of person who has a bad day on the trading floor and they want to have sex more,” Ms. Spinner Davis offered as she sipped a vodka gimlet (!), declining to say how she knew.

Not everyone is so lucky as braggy Ms. Davis. 27-year-old Megan Petrus implies, through pulls on her cocktail, that sex with her finance guy has been relegated to the weekends. This is sad and wrong and shameful for Ms. Petrus on many levels, but mostly because the weekends are when colleges kids and working class people have sex.

The article also quotes Raoul Felder, a Manhattan divorce lawyer, who says that he sees higher divorce rates in times of financial turmoil because “there aren’t funds or time for mistresses any more.” (One mistress writes on the daba blog that "when she pouted about not having been taken on a trip lately, her married man explained that, with money so tight, his wife had taken to checking up on his accounts.")

Limp husbands who can't afford Per Se? Mistresses who have to endure movie nights and staycations? Wives forced to sort through their husband's big, heavy numbers?!

It's almost like Almighty God is smiting the worst people in the goddamned universe.

It's The Economy, Girlfriend [NY Times]

Renton's vitriol, not surprisingly, is reserved for those people not actually adversely affected by the economic downturn. "Thrift is of course the latest middle-class indulgence; where once we spent on goats to Africa, this year we're spending nothing. Why? How many people are actually poorer this Christmas?"

Well, stateside, quite a few of us. But the point is well-taken: those most ostentatiously hoisting the thrift flag are not always those for whom it is necessity. Renton is angry that these folks aren't supporting the economy; I find this somewhat disingenuous, as I'd be very surprised to find that most of these folks against whom he rails — that is, those not economically affected — are really denying themselves in a significant way — even if their public consumption is curtailed. But what's not curtailed? The platitudes. It grows wearing to see the well-compensated Today show hosts furrowing their brows daily over coupon clipping and Martha Stewart droning conscientiously about the cost-benefits of homemade gifts. And where socialites' naive utterances about the economy were briefly entertaining in a Petit Trianon-sort of way, the mounting body count renders this sort of philosophizing very trying indeed. Mused model/heiress Margherita Missoni to The Observer, "I find it a bit ridiculous actually, almost like it's the cool hot topic to talk about at fancy parties is the economy, which seems very decadent.'" The zeal of thrift is such that it feels less, "we're all in this together" than that it's a passing trend in which those who have the luxury will quickly lose interest - something we've anticipated for a while.

It seems inevitable that, as in those Halcyon days of the French court, My Man Godfrey and the seething unrest of the 1970s, anger is inevitable. There has been something distasteful about this full-scale embrace of novelty economizing not merely for the usual 'let-them-eat-cake' platitudes, but because in some ways it seems to deny the gravity of the situation. Look! Everyone seems to say. There's nothing we haven't seen before! There's nothing we can't handle! This part here is like the 1930s and this bit there is like the 1970s and we're smarter and more post-modern than people ever have been before and your individual problems are being taken care of - see this segment on clothing swaps?!

Not only does this roll-up-your-sleeves-let's-put-on-a-show! mentality in some wise trivialize the very grave realities of those being literally dispossessed; it also paternalistically strips the country's upheaval of some of its power for change, for reflection, for achievement. For all the panic many of us are experiencing for the first time, there are things to challenge us, things to push against. Whether this has the power to spur any artistic or philosophical achievement (or just thin the ranks of the Peaches Geldof-style slash/slash generation) is an open question; there may be nothing but a small-scale bout of decadent nihilism. The only thing that's certain is that this resolutely cheerful managing of tragedy as a game can't keep up: some of us don't have the luxury and those who do will tire of it. And for every penny "thrifty chic" might help one to save, it's surely going to breed a lot of resentment.

Humbug To thrifty Christmas [The Guardian]
At Winter Wonderland Ball, Margherita Missoni Wonders: 'Am I In The Sinking Titanic? I Think I'm In The Sinking Titanic' [New York Observer]

Earlier: Playing Recession: What'll We Do When The Novelty Wears Off?
The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Recession
Luxury Shame Will Be Big For Winter
[Image via New York Times]

Obviously, this is an oxymoron; a "luxury" is nonessential. But the concept does raise ideas about what special things make the difference between treating yourself and being sensible. It's a fine line, too: even someone who hasn't denied himself much can probably find that he does without 90% of those pleasures he considered "essential" before. But it's pretty well-documented that overdoing it — like crash dieting — can be a false economy. As we all look at what we need, and don't, it's interesting to see what we decide makes us happy — and putting a price tag on it.

Anna, for her part, budgets for daily lattes and one nice dinner a month. Megan will skimp on everything but highlighting her hair, pasta with a low glycemic index, and good wine. Jessica hangs onto her car (a luxury in New York). Dodai's glamorous luxuries are the three C's: cashmere, cocktails and cabs. As to me, besides Pearl tampons, I've found I'm willing to cut out a lot to hold onto the expensive curly-haired non-shampoo that keeps my hair manageable, whole-milk yogurt, and name-brand meds. One person's luxury is not another's. This can of course get touchy when your "essential luxuries" don't mesh with those of someone with whom you share a budget — not, I guess, as much of an issue for the celebs in the magazine — but in general, one small up-side to any financial trouble is re-learning to appreciate. When times were leaner growing up, I remember that my mom made a point of always getting fresh juice oranges. My grandmother tells me that during the depression, she and her siblings would save to buy their mother some of her favorite candy, to keep up morale and a sense of normalcy. Even thinking about "essential luxuries" is of course one of the greatest luxury of all — and maybe one of the essentials?

Necessary Luxuries [Departures]

Broyard writes that she hates her parents "for raising me to want a lifestyle that they can't pay for." She continues (all in present tense, despite the fact that her narrative spans twenty years):

Growing up, I take for granted that I will one day be wealthy, too. To make or marry money was the natural trajectory for young women like me — women who attend prep school and a "public Ivy," who know how to tack into the wind and volley a tennis ball and keep their skis clamped tightly against each other. No matter how mortgaged my parents' lifestyle has been, I have apprenticed as a rich person for all my young life and am prepared to move into the position. But that's not what happens.

Instead, she becomes a writer. "As long as I can earn enough to cover the basic necessities — rent, food, and health insurance," she says, "I prefer to avoid long hours in a job I don't like or a marriage in which my responsibilities and power will be predicated to some degree on my earnings." First of all, a writer who can comfortably cover rent, food, and health insurance is rich to me. Second, although she later swears she has friends with fun, high-paying jobs or fun, rich spouses, it's clear she actually looks down on her rich friends.

When getting free clothes from her rich friend Olivia, she notices that it's hard for Olivia to be giving handouts all the time — "everyone grows increasingly pleasant and solicitous around Christmas [...] and then the feigned surprise and exaggerated gratitude when the cash or check appears." Broyard, though, is different:

I give my wealthy girlfriends something, too. As a reminder of how the other half lives, I help keep them grounded amid charity auctions, private jet rides, and vacation plans that cost more than their kids' tuition. [...] Having me in their lives is proof that their kind of people aren't only rich people. And I allow them one of the great pleasures of having money — spontaneous generosity without guilt or expectation.

See, Broyard is totally different from those freeloaders, because she makes her friends feel good about themselves. Because otherwise they'd feel awful, with all that money. And maybe (although she doesn't explicitly say this in the article) something about her difference has to do with her faux-wealthy upbringing — she's just like a rich person, except she's poor! Her recipe for hanging out with rich people seems to be: wish you were rich (like you were supposed to be)... then feel superior when you're not!

No, the importance of Little Edie is that her variation on a towel dress is representative of the can-do spirit that we're all being urged to adopt now that we're in a Recession. What she wore — the countless bizarre "costumes" and outfits and mix-and-matched pieces — was cool, yes, but what made her a true Recessionista (as it should be used) was that she used limitation as a jumping-off point and did more with that than had she had a huge clothing budget. Did she sew? Re-use? Reinvent? Yes! But even more important, she dressed without fear, for self-expression. She reminded us of the redemptive powers of clothing and how little they have to do with frivolity. There is nothing of the clotheshorse in Grey Gardens: the point is never acquisition, but the actual purpose of the clothes themselves. When designers took inspiration, it was literal: replicating a bejeweled sweater turban or a skirt made from safety pin trousers. But it was the spirit of her dressing that's a help to the rest of us. Nowadays we're inundated with tips for essentially how to manufacture the illusion of an unchanged lifestyle, and that's not tenable. Little Edie, from madness or wisdom, didn't do that. She created a new reality for a new set of circumstances.

It's easy to see why fashion types are enchanted with the famous eccentric, but still a bit jarring. When the Grey Gardens musical first hit the stage, suddenly Little Edie wasn't just the property of those of us who'd long loved the cult Maysles documentary — and maybe wrapped sweaters around our heads in high school: everyone loved her! A film of cut scenes was released. Philip Lim's 2007 show, Marc Jacobs, the Olsen Twins and Italian Vogue were all competing for her favors. Rhapsodized Isaac Mizrahi in 2006: "The way that we now make mistakes on purpose comes from Edie Beale. I'm still and always trying to match her sense of the absurd, her playfulness, her sense of the drama of clothing." The stylesmith for the newest Grey Gardens stage production, Alex Jaeger, had this to say in Sunday's Washington Post:

Her fashion sense comes out of a deep need to be creative. And she was fabulously creative. These outfits, she made them out of whatever she had. As strange as they may be, there was a lot of thought put into them, and she would make 10 or 12 a day. She would change her clothes all day long.

But all of this is really beside the point: Little Edie was poor — very poor — and she was obviously not well. Said Simon Doonan, seldom a slave to fashionable bromides, in May: "[Said my friend Deb] who works in a psychiatric hospital and has a front-row seat at the unwitting fashion show that is mental illness. 'Walk around any in-patient unit: Lots of people are sitting around with things tied around their heads, just like Little Edie. They are not making a fashion statement; they are trying to block out the voices in their heads.'"

It should be said that Little Edie was probably more concerned with covering a bald pate, but there is something exploitative about mining what is essentially tragedy for inspiration (while crying homage), but whereas the Little Edie fashion moment of the past two years had me cringing, I feel like now her true fashion moment has come. Because the times in which we live are unprecedented, an unprecedented role model is called for; we're left not with a scant pile of threadbare basics that need to see us through the next half-decade, but, rather, the detritus of petty decadence: trendy, cheaply-made things never intended to last, that now reproach us from our overflowing closets. In this, Little Edie is a great help. She made the clothes work for her, remembered that they were nothing more than fabric — not a season, not a style, only raw material. She had nothing to do with Fashion, but a lot to do with everyday clothes and the people who wear them. People embraced her a few years ago because they were jaded, hungry for novelty, and sick of perfection. We can embrace her now not ironically, not patronizingly, but as a true role-model, and a boon for our times.

Standing on Fertile Ground for Creative Expression [Washington Post]

Related:
One Flew Over the Couture's Nest[New York Observer]
Little Edie, Big Style [New York Daily News]

It's no secret that a lot of people are losing jobs, and obviously in such a situation cutting back on luxuries is a necessity. Then too, the unstable market makes rash spending feel, well, rash. But as the piece points out, even those on solid financial footing find themselves abstaining from shopping sprees out of guilt — or sensitivity. Says one former shopping maven,"When I see people around me who are struggling and frightened, it really doesn't feel like a good time" to shop, she says. "It's not appropriate."

Plus, thanks to the media's wholesale embrace of the novelty of economizing, cutting back is fun!

As more people economize, it's become cool to pay less rather than more. It's worth boasting these days about buying faux-leather Anya Hindmarch for Target handbags for $30 — rather than the $500 versions at Ms. Hindmarch's boutiques. The digital marketing agency Zeta Interactive has measured a distinct increase in the buzz — recorded by the volume of Web-site and blog postings — surrounding discount retail sites. According to Zeta's research, for instance, discounter BlueFly.com received 25% more buzz in October than in September, while full-priced Netaporter.com received 19% fewer postings on blogs and Web sites.

As we've chronicled before, literally every day brings a new raft of tips and solutions on how to stay fab and save pennies. While it's nice, I guess, to feel like we're all in this together, something about this whole trend makes me slightly uneasy. It's like this level of enthusiasm and excitement for the "let's play recession!" game can't keep up, and as the months and years of economic hardship drag on, the everyday realities of cutting back and being sensible will feel all the drearier in contrast. Self-sacrifice is something most of us on modest incomes practice to some degree every day; while it's laudable that those women who were wont to throw down $800 a month on shoes are realizing they don't "need" them, they're probably the ones who will have the luxury of abandoning the game when it loses its novelty — even if in the process they gain the inestimable pleasure of wanting and valuing again. For the rest of us, it's called life.

The Latest Style: Self-Denial [Wall Street Journal]

How do you like your coverage? We've got everything from the straight to the analytical to the gleeful to the disgusted to predictably defensive statements by the McCain campaign. We've got commentary from other women in the public eye, stylists and prize-winning fashion writers.

And then of course there are all the servicey pieces! From high end — replicating Palin's spree at Saks and Neiman's (several times), attempting to spend $150k, to low end — creating her looks at Loehmann's and Wal-Mart! HuffPo helpfully puts the expenditures in terms of the average plumber's salary, ratio of clothes to Edwards-haircuts, typical American clothing budgets and "the cost of health care for 15 or so people." There are also polls and analyses of how much this would undercut her image, and photo essays of her ensembles.

For all this, the funny part is that there's really not that much to say. Here's the gist. Palin spent a ton on clothes, more than anyone can justify, even given arguments for the increased scrutiny on female politicians. She seems to have done so at a deliberate moment post-convention, once her Real American credentials had been established. She looks pretty good. But the timing could not be worse (global economic crisis, anyone?) and it flies directly in the face of her average Joe Six pack, hockey mom appeal just when the McCain campaign was trying to push a common touch agenda. Consensus? Republicans are pissed at the stupidity, McCain is pissed at having to talk about it, and whatever the eventual fallout, it's not good for them.

So, was it worth it? No. Obviously not. She doesn't look that different, she's undercut her sole selling point, and made herself look even more ridiculous. What was the RNC thinking? Having beaten the $400 haircut drum and played the elitism card with such enthusiasm, who could possibly have green-lighted this kind of excess, even were the economy not in free fall? Were they trying to make the most of her looks? Sure. Were they hoping to make her look like a politician? Probably. Was this shopping spree some kind of grotesque hail mary, a kind of attempt to bolster a crappy show with lavish sets and costumes? (And yes I know that's like five metaphors.) What's ironic about this is that in the past, Republicans have successfully marketed rich men of privilege like Reagan and George W. Bush as simple men of the people. And yet, they've taken a Sarah Palin and dressed her like a rich person!

I keep thinking about Stylista, the new show where magazine sophisticates whip kids into stylish shape. "Wearing the right label doesn't make something right," they say at one point to the designated villain. Meanwhile, the girl showing too much cleavage wails that she "loves her clothes" and "loves the way she looks in them," while the others pressure her into wearing something more tasteful and appropriate. They send the contestants to H&M and have them put looks together to show they have real style. Obviously the RNC didn't have that kind of confidence in their VP nominee. And sure enough, they'll pay through the nose.

Sarah Palin's $150,000 Makeover [BBC]
Sarah Palin's RNC-Funded Makeover: A Fashion Do Or Don't? [LA Times]
Palin's Fashion-Gate [WWD]
Republicans Disgusted By RNC Spending On Palin [Marc Ambinder]
For Women In The Public Eye, Looks Matter [CNN]
Stylist: Palin Fashion Buys Worth It [Politico]
After A $150,000 Makeover, Sarah Palin Has An Image Problem [Washington Post]
How To Spend $150,000 At Saks And Neiman Marcus [NY Mag]
The Saks Girls On Sarah Palin [Newsweek]
How To Spend $150,000 Just Like Sarah Palin [Slate]
If Sarah Palin Shopped For Her Campaign Clothes At Walmart… [The Frisky]

Palin Clothes Spending Has Dems Salivating, Republicans Disgusted [HuffPo]
Poll: Is Sarah Palin Elitist? [Guardian]
Look Is The Same; The Labels Have Changed [NY Times]
Sarah Palin's RNC-Funded Makeover: A Fashion Do Or Don't? [LA Times]
McCain Responds To Palin Shopping Bill [Time]

This contrast is really stark when you consider the 50 or so 19th-century Native American garments currently on display in at New York's National Museum of the American Indian. The woman who wore these, as the NY Times puts it, "could tell you exactly who had hunted the animals from which her dress was taken. She would know who had tanned the hides, stitched them together and sewed hundreds of beads onto them, and what the pattern of those beads signified." And they could tell us a lot about how to handle a recession.

The wealth of history and biography woven into each of these dresses is amazing: the implicit trajectories of colonization and changed hunting patterns, the changes in materials, inclusion of new ones and ingenious substitutes for once-plentiful decorations. The eyeteeth of an elk were "a way for women to show off the hunting skills of male family members. New brides often wore dresses made by their mothers-in-law and adorned with elk teeth collected by their husbands over many years." Italian glass beads or woolen fabrics showed the influence of European traders. Perhaps most fascinating are the tangible and valiant attempts to keep culture alive under the threat of extinction, as in the prevalent use of American flag imagery in many of the Sioux dresses. "On the reservation, Indian ceremonies (banned by the government) were replaced by Fourth of July festivities and other patriotic celebrations," but using these motifs on traditional garments was a subversive means of bridging the gap. The use of traditional motifs in clothing was also a means of silently evoking the "ghost dances," which were banned because the government felt they evoked massacres like Wounded Knee.

In sum, writer Karen Rosenberg concludes that "it’s hard to find a better example of art, labor, storytelling and female bonding" than this exhibition. I'd add that it would be hard to find anything more relevant to current discussions of the cultural ravages of fast fashion and, even more aptly, the nascent "slow fashion" movement. We've talked a blue streak about the human and environmental costs of fast fashion juggernauts like Forever21, as well as the cultural erosion it's helped precipitate - never have we valued things or quality so little, while paradoxically been so steeped in unwholesome materialism. In this sense, the current economic challenges could hopefully provide, if not a silver lining, at least the necessity of reevaluating our priorities.

So far, slow fashion is a tiny movement — far from the natural, traditional evolution of the garments featured in Inwood, the attempt to create small-batch cottage industries from fair trade materials can feel forced and somewhat twee. Much as local and organic eating is only beginning to shake off the stigma of yuppie luxury and become a slowly-growing cultural norm, so too must clothing with a provenance. However, the movement can also be a boon for small, old-fashioned industries — the Guardian mentions a new interest in traditional, hand-woven Scottish tartans and hand-made shoes - especially since the quality of such things usually qualifies them as those hot-button recession justifications, "investments." Anyone who has ever worn something homemade, however crummy-looking, knows how much more valuable it feels than something bought for $12 on a lunch break. Even a particularly exciting thrift-store find feels more special for the work invested. Slow fashion is obviously a virtuous enterprise, but the slight taint of self-righteousness it carries is worth it; like eating a really good heirloom tomato. We are not conditioned to save and invest and buy investment pieces — we are too conditioned for easy gratification, me and my eBay habit probably as much as anyone — which is why something like this exhibit is such an excellent shot in the anonymously-clothed arm.

In Tribal Dresses, Life Stories, Intricate Labor and Female Bonding[New York Times]