[caption id="attachment_7406" align="alignleft" width="264" caption="photo by Nadav Benjamin"]
[/caption] An exercise in obsession as much as art, the first-ever exhibit at Et Dérive makes me a little mad because I can't touch it. It's called "In Praise of Costume: The Garment as Sculpture," and if there are two arty things I want to fondle it is clothes and man-made objects. Put these things together in a small showroom that doubles as a gallery and triples as a business headquarters--and, like most multi-use spaces in Brooklyn these days, quadruples as a home--and I'm a goner. This place is where curator (and former vintage shop owner) Sara Bridgman and her husband Samuel constantly TCB. They are one of those super-couples who manages to live together and work together (he is part of the blossoming business and a featured artist) totally embedded in each others lives without driving each other bonkers. Photographs line two sections of the wall, which is nice, but I'm immediately interested in an enticing loft reachable only by ladder. OK, that's not enticing but its bordering rainbow of perfectly lined up heels keeping guard over a few garment racks that tease with unreachable goodies sure is. For those like me with some serious tactile inclination, the untouchability of most of the garments is frustrating. I wanted to fondle the black and white printed kaftan but it was dangling about fifteen feet about my head, taunting me. I had to remind myself that as much as this is a showroom, it is also a show. Bridgeman pointed out a green silk crepe dress hanging from the ceiling and informs me that it is a no-name California 60s vintage piece, but it's draped ever so perfectly that it doesn't seem out of place next to the 80's Oscar De La Renta cocktail number. On ground-level there is another rack, fronted by a silk Krizia tunic covered in a tiny pistol print. OK, I seriously WANT this, but alas, it is for inspiration only. Behind that is the ultimate violet peasant gown followed by a vintage Nicole Miller striped dress. All of the artists featured in the exhibit are New Yorkers -- from creepy goth dolls by Cricket Alexander to editorial fashion photos by Carissa Pelleteri, Nadav Benjamin, and Ryan Michael Kelly. Across from a line of photos there is a painting that descends deep into the cosmos, built up from layers of black gloss by Peter Halasz. It's a little dizzying, making you wonder what brings together vintage clothing, dolls, the cosmos, and fashion photography. You might think that connection is called String Theory, but no. The exhibit was concocted as a teaser for a multi-faceted new company. Bridgeman formerly owned Williamsburg vintage store Ghostown. When she closed her shop she kept the Ghostown moniker alive by creating Ghostown Press, an independent PR company. After tiring of working on other people's visions and brands, she decided to use her personal vintage collection as a jumping-off point, turning it into an inspiration archive as part of a launch into trend forecasting. From this Et Dérive was born. Under this umbrella is a digital publication, a virtual showroom accessible by subscription, and a gallery space. In essence, the "In Praise of Costume" exhibit is a clever bit of debut branding. Nice work. So what does all this mean to the average consumer who doesn't have a use for "egalitarian trend-forecasting"? It means there is a new art magazine and forum plus a wonderland of vintage clothing to look at and absorb. The attention to detail Bridgeman exercises is sometimes fanatic. Looking at a few of the pieces hanging from the ceiling (I promise you it looks better than my photos), their artistic appeal wasn't too obvious at first. But get her talking and she will go on about the removable neckpiece on a white Pierre Cardin dress or the perfect tailoring of an 80s Martin Margiela blazer. Slowly her inspiration comes into focus and the curatorial thematic becomes clear. "We used key sculptural architectural pieces…our goal was to anthropomorphize the garments." Feel like you need a sledgehammer to crack through all the cultural theorizing? Nerds like me eat it up, but basically this is about combining what you love with what you do for a living. Bridgeman has collected clothing for most of her life. After she closed down Ghostown the shop she liquidated much of the merchandise, but the lure of vintage was unavoidable and she slowly started building her collection back up. "I started collecting skate shirts when I was twelve. Now I've moved to things like Escada evening gowns." Hungry for more clothing (the exhibit's true selling point for me,) I begged her to show me the back archive rooms in the space and she opened magical a door to reveal a vintage Gucci skirt with a soldier print. Again, I don't want to look at it, I want to wear it! Vintage as inspiration for the fashion industry is a wise business, but it's torturous for those who just want to get our grubby paws on all the odd old beautiful things we see and wear them everywhere. However, a gal's gotta make a living and through Et Dérive, Bridgeman hopes to make a loving obsession a viable source of income. Hell, I tried to do the same thing once, but I couldn't keep my room clean enough to have appointments there, plus my apartment is kind of a dude dorm, not exactly international design-house friendly. While the fashion and editoral industries are going through some major changes, knowledge is still a commodity and a highly specialized one can be the foundation for a business. But this isn't all just about creating a commodity, it's about sharing the source with like-minded individuals in a joyful showcase, which is where the exhibit and magazine come in. The company is still in its infancy, but it is not short on plans. As stated, the first issue of the magazine focuses on New Yorkers, but from there Bridgeman wants to go global. Where to next? Prague was an idea she ventured, the collector in her giggled at my suggestion she use her destinations as an excuse to find more goods for the archive. I told her of my vision of her haggling with an elderly Czech grandmother for embroidered waistcoats at a street market. OK, maybe that's why I don't have an archive or a magazine, because that's what I would be doing instead of searching for contributors. Here are some shots from the magazine. Enjoy. [caption id="attachment_7404" align="alignnone" width="550" caption="Photo by Carissa Pelleteri"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_7405" align="alignnone" width="440" caption="Photo by Carissa Pelleteri"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_7407" align="alignnone" width="440" caption="photo by Nadav Benjamin"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_7408" align="alignnone" width="440" caption="Sara and Samuel Bridgman"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_7410" align="alignnone" width="550" caption="photo by Nadav Benjamin"][/caption]