Koolhaas Wears Prada

This week's discussion on "The Architectures of Capitalism and Congestion" has been very cyclical to me. Let me explain.

The first introduction of the idea of "Retroactive Manifestos" included four defining points:

1.) Specific: Linked to a city

2.) Ordinary: Use the innovation of Spontaneous Events

3.) Liberating: Open New Fields for Architecture

4.) Non-Critical: Not Challenging Social Order/Non-Utopian

This combination of characteristics was a little confusing to me when trying to decipher what it was exactly, that we would be talking about. Points two and three specifically seemed like they could be positive things, especially in the context of turning away from the strictly prescribed architecture of modernism. I was imagining Retroactive Manifestos could perhaps lean toward a more humanist perspective of urban design and architecture.

As we moved on to discussing Learning from Las Vegas, I appreciated the fact that Scott-Brown and Venturi recognized and celebrated non-conventional architecture. It is recognized that the design of Las Vegas is a direct result of capitalism, but so are modern American Main Streets filled with parking lots and lined with fast food advertisements. This style of urban design is likely not what people who live here admire in architecture, but it is still a specific architectural vernacular and represents people's homes. I am a huge proponent of recognizing "architecture" at all scale of cost, skill, art, et cetera. It is important to personal identity and the larger conversation of architecture as a whole. 

Where the discussion circles back again is the conversation that the wealthy and influential have regarding the ugly "style" of architecture that populates much of small-town America; disdain for the billboards and gas stations. Ironically, these are products of the haphazard capitalist greed that allows for fast and aggressive development like that so beloved in Manhattan and Koolhaas. 

I apologize for referencing fashion in both of my blog posts so far, but I can't help but think of Miranda's speech on cerulean blue in The Devil Wears Prada when thinking about the relationship between capitalism, clutter, and the average consumer.

Miranda Priestly: Where are the belts for this dress? Why is no one ready?

Jocelyn: Here. It’s a tough call. They’re so different.

Andy Sachs: (snickers under her breath)

Miranda Priestly: Something funny?

Andy Sachs: No. No, no, nothing’s… you know, it’s just that… both those belts look exactly the same to me. Y’know, I’m still learning about this stuff, and uh… (giggles uncomfortably)

Miranda Priestly: This… “stuff”? Oh, okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you.

You… go to your closet, and you select… I don’t know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back, but what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise, it’s not lapis, it’s actually cerulean.

You’re also blithely unaware of the fact that, in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns, and then I think it was Yves Saint Laurent, wasn’t it?… who showed cerulean military jackets. I think we need a jacket here.

Nigel: Hmm.

Miranda Priestly: And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic casual corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin.

However, that blue represents millions of dollars of countless jobs, and it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing a sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room… from a pile of “stuff.”