MANILA, Philippines - I was in college when a friend first brought up The Sartorialist. We were idling through a long break between classes, and as a group of us nibbled on snacks and prattled over gossip, she suddenly declared, "You need to check out this site." She breezed through the cool photography, eclectic style, and exploitable splendor of a New York backdrop, but all I could muster in response was, "Sarto-what?"
Nowadays, anyone with an interest in fashion is familiar with the website and the man who created it. Scott Schuman, the self-taught photographer behind those atmospheric fashion portraits, has managed to make The Sartorialist an industry mainstay since it debuted six years ago. More than that-it has essentially become the place to be seen.
"In fashion, one day you're in, and the next day, you're out," Heidi Klum intones on every episode of Project Runway-and she's right. So how has one man's blog out of thousands of others not only survived but flourished, with no signs of stopping, in the fickle fashion universe?
To begin with, his is not your conventional fashion blog.
"What do you think a blog is? It's just 'me me me' day after day!" Amy Adams says in Julie & Julia. Thus was the general idea pre-Sartorialist: a fashion blogger would chronicle his or her daily looks in an online photo diary, and in doing so, garner a likeminded following.
But Schuman changed all that. His own appearances on The Sartorialist are scarce. In fact, the first time I saw his photo was when he posted a magazine interview in late 2006, with his mug shot through someone else's lens. By then I had been checking the blog every other day for the better part of a year, and I had no idea that "Sart" was as dapper as he turned out to be.
To put it simply, his whole blog revolves around other people's style. In the early stages, when he was based primarily in New York, Schuman shot "real" fashion in the five boroughs. Sleek sophisticates in Manhattan. Artsy, vintage types in Brooklyn. Ghetto superstars in The Bronx. Male or female, young or old, slim or stout, any New Yorker who caught Sart's eye would probably end up on the site within the week.
But "catching his eye" was a whole other story. As his reputation grew and his repertoire expanded from the Big Apple's style scene to the other fashion capitals, you began to see the Big Twist.
No, that rugged youngblood in a soiled shirt at the fish market was not a fluke. No, that darling girl in a blah dress and flip flops wasn't just filler for a slow day. Yes, he thought those two Milanese barbers in their matching white smocks were worth snapping.
The Sartorialist seeks out the details, the unique points of interest that make a "look," rather than an "outfit." This is what sets him apart from everybody else. Some of his subjects' clothes might not cut it for a fashion editorial, but the sensation captured in each of his photographs always gives the spectator something to mull over. It doesn't matter who you are, or in fact, what you are wearing-if he likes the fraying on your jeans or how the wind ruffles your hair or the way you smile, he clicks. And the strange thing is, the end result always feels stylish, even if it's just the light.
Of course, that doesn't mean he avoids fashionistas in favor of photogenic characters. A healthy dose of insiders appear regularly on the site, in all their Prabal Gurung frocks and Thom Browne suits and vintage finery. For every scruffy Italian gent on a bicycle or ethereal Parisienne with a scarf and cigarette, Schuman presents you with models, editors, photographers, designers and the occasional celebrity. Editors Anna della Russo, Giovanna Battaglia and Carine Roitfeld, for instance. Photographers Mario Testino, Bill Cunningham and Sart's blogger flame, Garance Doré. Kanye West, many, many times.
It is the way he photographs them in this natural, unstudied light and the insights he affixes to their portraits that put a spin on things-he isn't just taking their picture because they are there, and fashion's finest, at that. A good friend of mine got me The Sartorialist photo book for Christmas last year, and Schuman's simple, straightforward commentary in it is telling of how he perceives his subjects. On Battaglia, pictured in graphic shifts, slouchy trousers and ever-changing coifs: "I love how she keeps evolving her style, but at the core she always looks like Giovanna." On West, pictured in bold hoodies and tweed suits: "I relate to his ability to blend macho aggressiveness with a refinement that allows him to easily move between the worlds of hip-hop and haute couture." On the two Milanese barbers in their white smocks, whom he refers to as "gentlemen": "There is something about the quiet, repetitive simplicity of barbers that I find very touching."
This eye for fleeting moments of true style, where "style" is as much an attitude as it is an ability to dress, is what put Schuman on the map. To be photographed by the man is to be validated for your fashion efforts (or, ironically, lack thereof). A few years ago, when I heard that a friend of a friend had been photographed by Schuman in Hong Kong, I was teeming with jealousy. "That's on my bucket list!" I wailed. I had just returned from a trip to Europe, where, despite a packed itinerary, I had lingered in Sart's most frequented spots. Fruitlessly, I might add.
Every fashion-lover wants the bragging rights of appearing on an illustrious fashion blog-that's a given. But aside from the flattery of being "spotted," there is also this curiosity over what Sart will see in you-that tiny, seemingly insignificant detail which he feels is a standout. It's the je ne se quoi that is stamped on each of his portraits like a watermark; the Big Difference which eventually lead to high profile jobs with Condé Nast, Burberry, and Saks-without compromising his integrity. "Everybody loves being photographed by Scott Schuman," New York Times fashion critic Cathy Horyn says. "And everybody likes to see who he was photographed for The Sartorialist, because it's proof of his critical eye."
Now, I'll be honest here. I'm singing its praises now, but in the first few years of the blog, I didn't understand how some of the people got on there. I would scroll through the comments of every portrait in question and smugly agree with statements like, "This is supposed to be style?" or "You missed the mark on this one, Sart."
I still don't get bowled over by a plumber in muddy overalls or a PYT in a nondescript blouse. BUT, I will take a closer look. The person in the photograph might not necessarily be fashionable, but anyone who puts on clothes and arranges their hair and laces up their shoes in a certain way has a distinct style. I see that now.
Schuman, of course, has known this from the very beginning. He has dedicated The Sartorialist to revealing what is usually invisible to the naked eye or simply ignored for a lack of glitz. There is a dialogue now between the street, the runway, and the editorial-and while other blogs like Facehunter and Jak & Jil have had just as big a hand in this, Schuman's perspective will always be my favorite. Each portrait of Giovanna, of Kanye, of barbers, plumbers, and pretty girls in parks-each one looks you in the eye and poses the question, "What is style, anyway?"
To that, I have no definite answer. But from what I've witnessed in the stylescape since Schuman hit his stride, I will say this. Fashion is no longer a game of paint by numbers; rather, it is a challenge to choose your own adventure-to make your own rules, as the old ones no longer apply.
So wear what you like, color out of the lines if you wish, and venture off the beaten path if you dare. And should a roving American photographer with a certain polish ask to take your picture-CALL ME
