Marc Jacobs Heaven and the Films of Gregg Araki. For Perime Magazine (Now Defunct) 2020.
U r standing at the edge of a crowd. You can’t find your friends, it's a mess of red light and smoke. Ministry blasts in the bg. Someone screams in ur ear, are u goin to the after hours? U pull out the last cig from ur pack and flip your hair. It's 1992 and u r bored.
In September 2020, Marc Jacobs launched a small collection of unisex graphic t’s, utility pants, and puffy bags. The collection was an offshoot of Jacobs’ eponymous luxury brand, but also not quite aligned with Marc by Marc Jacobs. The collection is called Heaven, and reads as Jacobs’ attempt to break into the highly lucrative and #trending streetwear scene.
Heaven’s brand identity relies fully on 90s nostalgia, bringing forth a beaucoup of deep cuts from the era. References to Gregg Araki’s film Totally Fucked Up, and the artist Mike Kelley take the biggest spotlight. Kelley’s work with stuffed animals is perhaps most recognizable via the Sonic Youth album Dirty. (It is of note that Supreme also did a Kelley inspired collection in 2018).
Heaven isn’t limited to outfits. Included for sale, is a selection of carefully curated objects by Climax Books. The selection includes VHS tapes, cassettes, and posters, alongside other miscellaneous 90s paraphernalia and relics. Soft sculptures by the Chinese artist Nhozagri are also available for purchase.
With a fresh drop coming in early March, I thought it might be fun to break down some of the themes surrounding the first Heaven collection. While I am curious to see if Araki and Kelley’s influence carries over, I think it’s safe to assume that the brand will still, at the very least, be situated fully in a 90s universe.*
The virtual sign above the gateway to Heaven (also known as marcjacobs.com) reads, “Welcome to Heaven, a gateway into the sprawling and enigmatic omniverse of Marc Jacobs subversion.”
The collection was photographed by Shoichi Aoki, of the legendary Japanese street style publication, Fruits. Regarding Heaven, there were two narratives. On the site, the collection is presented in a ready made teen bedroom. Adorned with close up images of James Duval, Mike Kelley posters, and all the authentic accoutrements of a teen dream room.
There was also an accompanying lookbook, which was shot to mimic Aoki’s iconic Fruit’s photographs. Each vision is a carefully constructed fabricated reality designed to evoke a sense of the real. The clothes on offer are rendered nearly irrelevant, as everything around them comes together to carve out this slice of imaginary life. It feels voyeuristic, but at the same time, we are able to participate via commodities. We can buy into the fantasy this way.
So what is the fantasy? It’s 1993, you’re walking with your friends to a sunny park. Later you might get some 40s and stand outside 7-11. You have no responsibilities. The only thing to be taken seriously is the bands you listen to. To boil it down- the fantasy is being young and cool and having fun with your friends. While the carcass of 2020 rots slowly in our collective background, it feels like no better time than ever to lose oneself in a fantasy world. Especially one which lacks obvious political discourse and heavy trauma- the only thing that matters here is ~~~the aesthetic.
The end of youth can feel like an apocalypse of the self. Especially within capitalism, where our identities are shaped via consumption and commodities- or at least that's how they want you to feel. Speaking of the apocalypse, now seems like a good time to take a dive into the films of Gregg Araki. More specifically, the film Totally Fucked Up, which appears to be Jacobs’ most direct reference. To retreat back to the Heaven’s gate quote (lol), Araki is where this collection finds its hints to subversion.
Heaven by Marc Jacobs ‘Fucked Up’ T-Shirt / Image via SSense + Totally Fucked Up Film Poster
Totally Fucked Up is Araki’s first installment in his Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy. It is a story about a group of friends, four boys and two girls, who are all queer and living in LA. It is a pseudo documentary, which veers towards the narrative but never quite settles there. Araki is known for his involvement in the New Queer Cinema movement, depicting his characters outside of the stereotypes which usually surround queer characters in film.
The film begins with a series of Warhol-esque screen tests, in which the characters pander to the camera with edgy jokes and lots of chain smoking. Some things happen, although nothing much, and (spoiler) at the end of the film Andy (the main character, played by James Duval) kills himself with Drano.
James Duval prior to suicide, bored: his friends arent picking up the phone.
And what are they wearing? Dad shorts, ironic graphic t’s (in one scene a character jerks off to gay porn while wearing a shirt that reads ‘T&A Patrol’), band t’s (Ministry, specifically), black cowboy boots and blue denim, leather jackets, 80s prom dresses. Backwards caps, trench coats, small circle glasses, wife beaters and cross chains. This must sound familiar in regards to our current fashion landscape. Although there are whole #looks happening in the film, Heaven, for the most part, limits itself to t-shirts.
The Duval Sweater and Mesh Top from the collection.
The documentary aspect of the film aligns with Heaven’s art direction- the bedroom and the street. These things that are presented as real, but aren’t. The clothes take the reference more literally- stills from the film decorate mesh tops, sweaters, and t-shirts. The Duval sweater, a hazy blue film still of James Duval as Andy in Totally Fucked Up. It’s a deep blue and black image. 90s tv screen blue, camcorder glitch blue, slightly darker than an iMessage but still has that technological feeling.
The key here is the use of graphics. In the film, posters, and t-shirts define the lines of the characters’ world, and each section of the film is announced via title card (15 in all). Additionally, Araki loves a religious undertone, and this collection is literally named Heaven. Nevermind the clothes, in Heaven you can also buy 100% 90s relics like, The Doom Generation OST, on CD. Aphex Twin’s Windowlicker VHS tape. Richard Kern’s Hardcore, also on VHS. A poster for the Sonic Youth album, Dirty.
A title card from Totally Fucked Up
What does Marc Jacobs mean by subversion? As artworks, the references here are certainly subversive on their own terms. But there’s something missing, a disconnect between what is consumable and what isn’t. Sure, it’s subversive enough to wear a t- shirt that says “Totally Fucked Up” on the front. But that shirt costs $70, and it’s made by Marc Jacobs.
Heaven feels very prefabricated, a subcultural starter pack. I can buy the uniform and the accompanying accessory objects- VHS tapes, posters, etc. It is easy to dismiss something like this, as it overtly commodifies a sense of otherness. None of the characters in these films are wearing labels. Araki’s characters are hanging out in parking lots, and stressed about the AIDS epidemic. They wear the same outfits on rotation throughout the film. The only active signifiers they seem to utilize are related to music- Band t-shirts and posters.
However, I think it’s important to remember that subculture itself relies on consumption. We consume to create a sense of identity- to signal to others who we are, and also to help satisfy our own desires, however overt or subliminal. Commodities can help us carve out the world in this way. Heaven defines itself via nostalgia and ephemerality, and it is only subversive byway of association.
The clothes and objects Heaven presents for purchase ground the consumer in a fantasy experience. I often wonder if buying something which brings us closer to an experience, is within itself an experience. This is about rejecting the real, but also accepting the copy. Counter Culture may feel like it's dying, but it has always been somewhat of an illusion.
Be yourself, authenticity is fake.
And so, the fantasy resumes. I am bathed in the blue light of a fast forwarding video.
*Heaven’s sophomore collection debuted on 3/3. It is not inspired by Araki, and no longer has a selection from Climax Books available for sale. However, the main themes of this article are still prevalent, as the collection still takes aesthetic cues from that of 90s subcultures.