CHROMATOSE
The cultural aesthetic of the 2000s fulfilled an idealization that can only be truly appreciated in retrospect. Peering back into rosy, vibrant years, the full effects of the digital medium had only begun to seep into physicality. This momentary tenure of tech-optimism was flanked by a visual metamorphosis from 90s cyber aesthetics into airy digital skyscapes of the Frutiger movement, alternatively known as “Chroma Shine”. These aesthetics capture a sense of nostalgia still revered today, but conveniently omit the truth behind the necessity of such positive overtones.
In case you weren’t included in the defining experience that was owning a Blackberry phone or Sony camera at the turn of the century, you missed a golden opportunity to wear your consumerism as a badge of Y2K chic, which somehow feels more performative than using a Nokia today. Interestingly, there was a reason why your choice of handheld device became an integral part of your surface-level aesthetic. In an age of texting when people actually meant what they said over the phone, fashion was as closely tied to tech trends as scene kids were to hairspray. Surprisingly, this was intentional, driven by the least nuanced of ulterior motives. Specifically, the script that fashion has followed since its inception has been a dedication to the evolution of the visual aesthete, silently admitting that the highest praise for a piece is not its allure, but its novelty. As if the universe has a thing for irony, the corporate woman furiously typing quarterly reports in an overpriced coffee shop retains a similar outlook for the future of her field. So technology, in all its variations and subsets, erupted into a renaissance when the brightest amongst us made the rocks think and play music in our hands in the early 2000s. Simultaneously, the most vain amongst us pushed the intentionally exclusive propaganda that an individual’s display of these new silica concoctions was, by the transitive property, an equivalence that declared how interesting and novel their existence was.
For the first time in recorded history, a designer belt was outshined in aesthetic value by a Nokia cellphone at the hip. Because of this shocking turn of events, your boss is probably remembered as more “visually in the know” than you were, and hopefully, you have recovered quickly from this revelation being broken to you in real time. In an effort to cheer you up, this article is going to bleed dry any notion that what the corporate world considers fashionable is actually so: and reassure you that your sanctity is preserved in the authenticity of your style.
To start, despite there being a clear correlation between the corporate and fashion worlds conflating novel with niche, it was also incredibly reasonable to assert that the early 2000s were best enjoyed blissfully ignorant. This may be a hard pill to swallow, considering the nostalgia that emanates from the visual design of the era is so convincing that it almost makes you forget about the pollution, the war, and the economic crises. Letting you down slowly, these are the true, ugly roots of the Frutiger aesthetic. In an age of constant uncertainty, the consumer’s spending had been outpaced by the innovation occurring, a byproduct of the increasing skepticism as spare funds dwindled. Thus, the question of bypassing the consumer’s monetary erosion found its answer through a new medium. Bubbles, skyscapes, and chrome.
Yes, tech-optimism was ahead of its time as a visual aesthetic. No, buying a Lenovo did not mean you were better for the ocean because the ads had fish on them. Creating this argumentative link was the primary goal for marketing teams two decades ago, churning the dissonance that allows us to distance the aesthetics of technology from the exploitation and struggle that actually embodied the 2000s. Removing this connection from its source material in recent content streams has caused a reverence for a less-than-bubbly aesthetic when viewed holistically. So, the innocence of Frutiger Aero in a vacuum should not mean it must escape its intended necessity of uncanny positivity needed to mask the strife of the new decade. For the same reason, hopefully to great relief to you, this is why consumerism will never replace authentic style, and why your closet is safe.
Simply put, the underlying goal of all corporate aestheticism—from Frutiger backgrounds to brand new Nokia’s, is the generation of literal or social wealth. These fundamentally miss the point of wearing an outfit. A set of clothing, at its most basic form, is reliant on you to wear it in a way that conveys the interpretation of its best application to your body. Only without this original touch, without the seal of authenticity that is only found within the person who thinks about how they dress, not why—can the aesthete, you, bring out any real novelty from clothing in an artistic capacity. This truth is what we colloquially consider “charm”, but what we functionally categorize as “chic”. Meaning, it pays to dress not as what’s categorically popular, but to dress as an extension of yourself. Thus, contrasting with the meaningless corporate.
The only ethical aesthetic is the one that you create for yourself.
Written by Pranav Rajkumar, Photography: Mateo Hinojosa, Design: Brooke Nugent, Social Media; Zaara Hashmy, Styling: Jiya Ghorpade