In the documentary that celebrates his career covering street fashion and social events for the New York Times, photographer Bill Cunningham hits the nail right on the head, explaining, “Fashion is the armor to survive the reality of everyday life." I doubt that any designer, theorist or fashionista could put it better. Cunningham has spent more than thirty years taking pictures of New Yorkers and what they wear, most of it from his customary haunt at 57th Street and Fifth Avenue. I spotted him once years ago at Bryant Park on the first dazzlingly warm day of spring. Women had broken out their sundresses and sandals and men had rolled back their sleeves, and the photographer was jumping around them like a kid on Christmas morning, trying to take it all in.
Cunningham has the highest respect for well-bred ladies who dress relentlessy to type – like Lee Radziwill and the late Brooke Astor – and for eccentrics who dress relentlessly to shock and delight – like Anna Piaggi. For someone with such a refined fashion eye, however, he’s outstandingly modest in his own dress. He wears a uniform of Ordinary Guy separates with a cobalt blue French worker’s jacket, the kind worn by sanitation workers. Cunningham likes the jackets, which he buys in bulk from a hardware store in Paris, because of their pockets. Along with the bike he tools around on, the blue jacket has become his emblem. Of course there are designer versions around, some precious and some less so. Junya Watanabe even collaborated on a version with L'abourer (a French heritage brand something like Barbour) for Comme des Garcons. But these high-fashion interpretations miss the point. Cunningham’s looks is so brilliant because it’s distilled and unchanging. He knows exactly who he is and doesn’t care what anyone thinks.