The August Issue: Jesse Erickson
The August Issue: Jesse Erickson
+ Bill Cunningham, academic dress, and more
“If someone is wearing something terrific,” said Bill Cunningham, “that’s what I want to photograph.” Luxe Libris is no different: if someone is wearing something terrific, that’s what I want to talk about. I’ve never met Jesse Erickson in person, but we travel in the same virtual orbit—book seminars and conferences over Zoom, mutuals on Twitter, and interviewed in the same month for Fine Books and Collections Magazine’s Bright Young Librarians series. Every time I see him, he’s wearing something terrific—beautifully tailored three-piece suits, brooches (I love brooches as an accessory for men), satin pocket squares, or signature eyewear.
Jesse’s also up to something new each time I see him: co-editing the Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America, exhibiting his private collection of Ouida publications and ephemera at the Grolier Club, or, recently, to everyone’s delight, becoming the Astor Curator and Department Head of Printed Books and Bindings at the Morgan Library & Museum. Somehow, Jesse manages all of this while also publishing on topics ranging from the white patriarchal roots of reading-room design to the material culture history of the Ouija board. (The former completely reshaped my thinking about the importance of aesthetics in library public service work.) I see a throughline of generosity and provocation in Jesse’s work, which I was also glad to see in our conversation. Here’s our interview:
Meet Jesse Erickson
Tell me a little about your new role at the Morgan Library & Museum. What excites you about your work as the Astor Curator of Printed Books and Bindings?
It’s difficult to single out what excites me about working in a field I once believed I may not have been able to enter, or in a position that goes beyond what I had dreamed for myself when I first started on a long journey. Every day is an adventure that I never take for granted, even on the more challenging days. Of course working with collections of this caliber is a surreal experience. But the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others, to tell new stories with both the familiar and the obscure, to be a part of a thriving bibliophilic community—it’s all very exciting.
Hear hear! I can’t wait to see what you do there. Now, how would you describe your style?
Style is an extremely important aspect in my daily life. I look at it as more than clothing and apparel. It encompasses everything from interior design, choice of fragrance, food and beverage, body modification (i.e., tattoos and piercings), entertainment, and much more. To me, it’s about maintaining an aesthetic that fits with what makes me comfortable as well as how I wish to be seen in the world. In that sense there’s an almost Janus-like quality to its performativity. Each day is like cosplaying a representation of my own imagined self-image.
Essentially, I describe my style as neo-Victorian, but you probably couldn’t easily discern that by looking at me because it’s often very subtle. For most weekdays I keep things toned-down with business attire, as elaborate as a three-piece suit or as casual as a tieless button-down with a blazer. On the weekends, I exotify myself by going for something that approximates the Victorian strongman—a cross between brand mascot Mr. Clean and the first Black circus owner and showman, Pablo Fanque (1810–1871). So that look is comprised of a shaved head with a handlebar mustache, trousers and a tank top with small hoop earrings. More specifically, however, I would say that I embrace a unique form of retrofuturism that strategically combines visual characteristics of past and future to play with constructions of temporality in an ever-changing present. My experience of fashion from my earliest days of being style conscious has always involved looking back to earlier periods for inspiration while imagining future trends. In the ’90s, for example, we often looked to the ’60s and ’70s for ideas on how to revive certain looks for a new generation, interspersed with a sort of goth, cyberpunk look. The result had us mixing tie-dye, flares, and chokers with waistcoats, bowler hats, and brightly-dyed hair, that sort of thing.
At present, I try to incorporate certain features of the Victorian period—a penny collar here, a pocket watch there—in a subtle way that doesn’t comprise my temporal relationship to post-postmodernity. Actually, I think that doing so only reinforces that sensibility. I really like the new “core” suffix that has recently emerged in this context. I think it gets at the heart of the post-postmodern milieu in how it democratizes “chic” by its imitative flattening of it. I love that way that it playfully mocks the concept of “haute couture” as the pinnacle of desire. By centering intense mundanity and replicability over luxury and originality, using the combinatory excess of a global database of fashion to create seemingly endless variations of standard looks that can be attached to a particular scene, it thrives on the social media brands of influencers to replicate itself ad infinitum like mirrors in a funhouse. There is a parallel, I think, to the cores of electronic dance music (EDM), as in hardcore, nightcore (NXC), breakcore, and the like. I confess to be a huge fan of NXC.
Lastly, I’ll add that I am acutely cognizant of how this style is conversant with a Black dandyism that has flourished since the late nineteenth century up until the present day. These ideas are covered at length in books like Monica Miller’s Slaves to Fashion (Duke University Press, 2009) and Shantrelle P. Lewis’s Dandy Lion (Aperture, 2017). I think there is definitely a performative component to embracing this kind of style in the sense that “preppiness” and formality in Black male attire has always been privileged in mainstream society over street styles, but street style is usually looked upon as being more desirable and in vogue in popular culture. There has been this awareness that one’s fashion choices can have serious consequences, particularly for Black men. When street style is perceived as too “urban,” it pushes into “gang culture.” The perception of being gang affiliated or connected to any sort of “urban thuggery” is extremely perilous for people of color. And it’s a shame because, in my opinion, there’s so much to love in those styles, and people should be free to dress that way without fear of being wrongfully detained or much worse. Growing up I was told that I couldn’t wear this color or that one, or that my pants couldn’t be too baggy or too low; I was constantly being policed and surveilled when it came to my choice of clothing. I remember that I had this British Knights outfit in elementary school that I loved because Kool Moe Dee was basically my idol at that point. I was told I could no longer wear it because it was too dangerous to be seen in the neighborhood wearing that brand. Thankfully, my mother, who was always very fashionable, did an excellent job cultivating my appreciation for balancing conformity with uniqueness, even when she regretted some of my more questionable fashion choices in my teenage years.
I’m really glad you raise these issues that come with getting dressed as a Black man. This reminds me of an observation you make in “The Gentleman’s Ghost” about cultural capital in libraries skewing toward the Eurocentric, and researchers confronting barriers to access if their clothes don’t conform to those expectations. I’m looking forward to learning more, and checking out these works on Black dandyism.
Where do you find your clothes?
As much pleasure as fashion provides me in my life, regrettably it is not guilt-free. I recall browsing through Nordstrom’s with my grandmother in the ’90s and commenting on the sweatshop labor conditions of the garment industry. My grandmother, who I later learned had worked as a union leader in American textiles for years, was astonished by my awareness of these issues. The more I learn about the environmental and societal damage that fast fashion creates in its wake, the more inclined I am to abandon it. Many of my pieces are vintage coming from eBay, thrift stores, gifts, or hand-me-downs. Most of my clothes are off-the-rack pieces from department stores like Macy’s and Target. I have more than a few suits from local suit tailors and menswear stores and a couple pieces from artisanal fashion boutiques. Still, I think too many of my clothes come from fast fashion suppliers like ASOS, Forever 21, and Zara. I am trying to move away from the more convenient fast fashion stores, but it’s difficult because they tend to be the most affordable options. I try to get the most life out of them as possible, but they aren’t made to last. Perhaps re/upcycling might be a good way to reduce my dependence on these stores? I’m also looking toward acquiring more long-lasting bespoke suits when I can budget for them. It can all get pretty expensive.
Tell me about your favorite thing in your closet and how you wear it.
My favorite thing in my closet is a black linen sports jacket from CLADE. I wear it on special occasions, or when I really want to stand out. It’s a unique artisanal design by Maya Reynolds that I bought when CLADE was in its early years. I couldn’t afford it at the time when I purchased it; but I couldn’t pass it up either, so I ended up having to cut back temporarily on a few essentials in order to recover financially. It was my first real experience of the “sticker-shock” phenomenon. I remember being like, “I’ll take it,” and hearing “that’ll be such-and-such dollars,” and nearly fainting. I laugh about it in retrospect, but I definitely do not regret my decision.
This menswear boutique has since closed due to challenges that came with the pandemic, but I was able to get a few pieces from the store when I was living in Los Angeles. It’s a gorgeous combination of street, punk, and formal styles that features Reynolds’s trademark threadbare, fringy cuts juxtaposed with detailed and layered patchwork stitching. It’s a perfect synthesis of all my fashion-based aesthetic proclivities.
I’m so bummed to hear they closed! Their work sounds incredible. Do you have any style icons?
Many of my style icons are either historical or fictional. I love the energy of a P. T. Barnum, the Joker, and Saul Goodman (from Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul), for example. Gaudy, tasteless, cheap, garish, tacky, and kitschy things are often beautiful in my eyes. I adore the Victorian circus and Mardi Gras carnival vibe, a sort of carni-core to spin the suffix—I’m thinking purples, golds, greens, diamond harlequin patterns, bold regatta stripes, madras, windowpane, patterned trousers, polka dots, flower prints, top hats, suspenders. Mix it all up with the patterns of the works of artist Yinka Shoniara and his Dutch wax fabrics. I am really curious about the historical complexities of how images of “Uncle Sam” came to exhibit that sort of carnival-like style, at once macho and dandy. His iconic outfit, I think, has ties with minstrelsy that are underexplored. I am also a huge fan of a Southwestern Americana and ranchero look that includes cowboy hats, denim, things worn out and distressed. I always think fondly upon librarian, journalist, and activist Charles Fletcher Lummis (1859–1928) in that regard. When I really think about it, as much as I appreciate the diversity of global styles, American fashion still resonates with me more than others.
When I think of living style icons, of course, we all owe so much to Dapper Dan, who really paved the way for the mainstreaming of contemporary Black dandyism. However, the one who I believe captures this style most effectively is the fashion artist Legend Already Made. He dresses how I would dress if there was nothing in the way of money and professional conformity holding me back.
“Carni-core” is a new one for me and I love it. Do you have a penchant for a particular clothing item or accessory?
Hats. I’ve been wearing hats in nearly every style for as long as I can remember. I started shaving my head with disposable razors during my freshman year in high school, so you can see pictures of me from like twenty-five years ago, and my hairstyle is pretty much the same. Having a shaved head works really well for hat wearing, and I’ve never passed up on the opportunity to exploit that fact. A hat frames the face. It’s the kind of accessory that can make a comparatively ordinary outfit stand out. And there are so many nuances to wearing them that is often overlooked. There’s seasonality to them: newsboys in fall, beanies in the winter, a wide awake or a trilby in the spring, a baseball cap, a straw fedora, or a woven trilby in the summer. A slight tilt in one direction or another can signify coolness; wearing it in reverse, youth; centered and level, sobriety; pushed back behind the forehead, vibrancy and frivolity; pushed forward, low on the forehead to meet the eyes, a guarded, introverted privacy. I’ve played around with all these different looks over the years. My favorite style of hat is probably the derby, although I don’t get around to wearing one as often as I would like. I’ll also add that grooming my facial hair has become an important part of my style, and for that I have been using a Feather Artist Club kamisori straight razor. In men’s fashion, hats and facial hair are intimately connected.
Would you like to share a book, film, or cultural heritage object with readers of Luxe Libris?
Most people that know anything about me know how passionate I am about the works of the Victorian period author Ouida (1839–1908). Her books have undoubtedly had a major influence on my sense of fashion. Ouida had her own ideas on fashion, which she articulated in her essay “On the Art of Dress,” published in 1897. I happen to own that September 1897 issue of Cosmopolitan in my personal collection of Ouida’s books, autographs, and ephemera. Interestingly enough, much of her personal vision for the ideal type of style contrasts sharply with my current aesthetic. She longed for a return of Georgian style, tea gowns, and rustic simplicity. And she makes some very interesting points about the way that high fashion influences the lower classes, and predicts, rather accurately, that this dynamic could easily go in both directions. Nonetheless, her novels are hyper-specific in terms of description of dress and accessory. Her novels of the 1880s in particular were in many ways precursors to the aesthetic novels of the 1890s. I have, for example, a set of Ouida’s works from the Lippincott imprint, which was annotated by a reader who indexed a number of the fashion references in her novels on the endpapers of the volumes. It’s one of my favorite examples of readership history in my collection, and it’s actually pretty functional too because the handwriting is legible. It gives you the sense of just how prominent fashion is in Ouida’s works. Writer and socialite Carl Van Vechten (1880–1964) had a clear understanding of this characteristic of Ouida’s writing when he published his edition of In a Winter City in 1923. If I had to narrow it down to which books feature the most fashionable characters, I would probably choose Granville de Vigne (1863), Moths (1880), In a Winter City (1876), and Princess Napraxine (1884).
I can’t get over how charming this handwritten fashion index is! Thanks so much for talking to Luxe Libris, Jesse. You can find Jesse on Twitter at @Bibli_be_Us.
Bill Cunningham at the New York Historical Society
Speaking of the late great fashion photographer Bill Cunningham, I continue to wonder what will become of his vast photo archive, spanning his six-decade career at the Times and valued at roughly $1 million dollars. In the meantime, fans of Bill can get a glimpse of his life and work through the New York Historical Society’s collection which contains many of his personal effects including his iconic blue chore coat, Nikon camera, and bicycle. In 2018, the Society held an exhibition about Bill featuring, among his more recognizable belongings, visual scrapbooks and hats from his early days as a milliner. Read the Times coverage of the exhibition here.
The Society has digitized some of the photographs in its collection and highlighted others in its “From the Stacks” blog. While we wait to see what comes of the rest of the photo archive, we’ll have to be contented in the meantime with his posthumously published memoir Fashion Climbing (with an introduction by the wonderful critic Hilton Als), or hunt down a copy of his out-of-print Facades.
Sundry
An Emily Dickinson fan and knitter recently crocheted a replica of Emily Dickinson’s blue shawl, held in the collections at Houghton Library. See how she did it here.
As many of us return to classrooms this fall, here is one of the quirkiest and gentlest Twitter accounts gracing my timeline: the Burgon Society (@burgonsoc) celebrating “academic dress, history, heritage, design and use in its many forms.”
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