Issue link: https://www.balharbourdigital.com/i/262375
000 BAL HARBOUR 'm a big fan of tassels. I love to see them swinging from Marc Jacobs' latest neo-Victorian frocks; Dries Van Noten's golden trim makes my heart skip a beat; and I swoon for the creations of Junya Watanabe, whose ideas for spring include swaying suede filaments. But I have never, in what has been an endlessly long life reporting and writing about fashion, encountered the fellow who was apparently the father of it all—one Julius Fringe, a clothier in the 18th century who supposedly invented the stuff that bears his name as a means to chase flies away from the body. I learned about this Julius from Yahoo! Answers, and if that site is not the soul of veracity (no other trace of Mr. Fringe turns up, despite my assiduous research), there is some truth, maybe, to the idea that fringes can shoo away, if not flies, at least rainwater—which purportedly is the reason that Native Americans edged their garments in just this way. But of course, moisture repulsion hardly explains why, in addition to the designers cited above, everyone from Altuzarra to Alexander Wang has jumped on the fringed surrey, if you will. For this, I propose two delightful explanations which may in fact happily coexist: first, the current fringe fad is part of this season's enthusiasm for "tribal" fashion, an exploration and embrace of other cultures, mostly imaginary lands where happy, bright prints clash merrily and jewelry is bold and wooden; and second, the sexy peekaboo nature of the fringe itself, which reveals and conceals with each of the wearer's minutest shakes and sways and has a charm that has enchanted us for at least a century. Could it be the confluence of last year's "The Great Gatsby" and the enduring appeal of the Crawley women from "Downton Abbey"—the current season begins in 1922—that is also informing the present appetite? In the 1920s, as hemlines rose precipitously, fringe was a way of making abbreviated skirts appear longer, even though they most obviously weren't. It was also wonderful on the dance floor, hanging from piano shawls and shimmying enthusiastically to the Black Bottom. Alas, when the market crashed on that sad October day in 1929, the fringe style largely shrank as well, retreating into sartorial hibernation until Elvis donned a particularly stringy leather jacket, and, 10 or so years later, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper roared across movie screens in "Easy Rider" resplendent in shaggy buckskin. Before you knew it, millions of young people were suiting up like High Plains drifters. Well, that was then, I can hear you saying right about now. It's all very historically fascinating, but am I really flippy enough, flirty enough, to handle a passel of fringe? Here is what I recommend: start slow. Pack your flip-flops, your gym togs and all those things you carry around every day in a devastatingly handsome fringed tote from Céline, Gucci, Valentino or another rarefied label. Pretty soon, you'll be moving up to Phillip Lim's delicate patchwork fringe skirt or spinning around town in a Pucci poncho, feeling like a modern-day version of Lady Mary crossed with Janis Joplin—and won't that be a groovy way to greet the new season? Clockwise from above: Valentino Zodiac fringe clutch; a look from Chanel Spring 2014; Gucci's black suede Bamboo shopper; a look from Marc Jacobs Spring 2014 52 BAL HARBOUR I