It's getting so hard to leggo your logo

COURTESY TOMMY HILFIGER I got my logo working overtime.

Last week, I was lamenting world shrinkage and its effect on my elbows. I was wrong. The world is, in fact, getting much smallerthan I previously stated.

Just a fleeting glimpse at food, for example, paints a disturbing portrait of the miniaturization of America. Mini Ritz, Buncha Crunch—for those that cannot be bothered with the veritable behemoth that is a Crunch bar—Mini M&Ms (which could not possibly be smaller. What next—M&M Atoms?!)...the list is larger than the food itself. Apparently, we are supposed to believe that companies can pack a modicum of full-size flavor in amoeba victuals.

This recent spate of downsizing does not point to an alarming shrink in tastebud mass. Rather, it is indicative of an increasingly coddled society lazing its way into the 21st century. Like a mother cutting meat for her child, capitalist consumption is being reduced to convenient bite-sized portions. Fashion's utilization of and obsession with logos reflects this current state of aesthetic convenience and shrinkage. The burgeoning presence of logos, representing everything from fashion houses to DJs, pointedly warns us of the unstoppable logo-ization of society and pop culture.

Just like those tiny morsels, logos load a lot of meaning into a little space. Last month's issue of the too-fashionable-for-its-own-good magazine The Face was a paean to the most wondrous of God's creatures—the label whore. The fact that a magazine devoting its pages to everything from models cavorting in Hermes and Puma to a disturbingly comprehensive listing of the most important labels of the century can dedicate an entire issue to the logo illustrates only one dimension of the logo's power. Sporting a logo is not only an act of stylistic "props"; it displays recognition of the meanings that these logos carry. The entwined letters of the Chanel logo are instantly recognizable as an encapsulation of all the trademark features of the venerable fashion house—quilted leather, woven gold chain, and impeccable tailoring. Yet, as an especially funny episode of The Simpsons tells us, the interlocking Cs are also convenient, pocket-sized representations of moneyed white elitism. In a society where flashing cash is a wee bit gauche (and more than a wee bit unsafe on the streets of New Haven), logos such as those of Chanel, Fendi, or Gucci are easy replacements for the all-mighty dollar sign.

In a society that is still ensnared by the boundaries of class, race, and gender, logos have also become iconic showcases for the display and transgression of cultural borders. Many inner-city and hip-hop artists of the early '80s appropriated the symbols of wealth and whiteness and re"fashion"ed them into an act of stylistic subversion. The embedded societal pretensions behind the red-and-green stripes and gold interlocking Gs of the Italian wonder-label Gucci were skewed as they were splashed on cheap white cotton tee shirts and emblazoned, Escher-like, on counterfeit umbrellas, jackets, and hats. Poor MCs and rappers ensconced in obnoxious and fake takes on luxury logos made a clear statement by proudly wearing and appropriating the symbols of the privileged—stylistically "sticking it to the man."

You don't, however, have to go that far back in time to witness the subversive power of the logo. The dichotomous customer base of the new holy trinity—Polo, Tommy, and Nautica—vividly illustrates a more modern example of this power. As the source of many an Internet rumor and magazine articles the world over, it is well known that brands such as Polo and Tommy cater to both an elite white and an inner city ethnic buyer. Ralph Lauren, for example, utilized logos to evoke a specific image for his clothing. From the luxurious crests to the ubiquitous polo player on a pony, Lauren geared his vision toward a very specific customer. Imagine the fashion world's surprise when the people who could never be a part of the society Lauren envisioned began to integrate it. That is, urban and poor youth incorporated the vanity of upper class America into their wardrobe. Even more ironic is that this occurred with Ralph Lauren, whose real name (Lipschitz) would never get him into a polo game, either. In an attempt to cash in on their own subversion, these quintessentially American designers are now attempting to include all Americans in their style with different cuts, more athletic accents, and pumped up logos.

The omnipotence of the logo cannot be denied. From non-profit organizations to pop groups, society continues to place more importance on logo recognition than on actual product. Some companies, however, have attempted to climb their way out of this obsession. Last year, Nike announced that it would begin to phase out its über-famous swoosh. With the exception of company letterhead and select products, Nike was becoming subsumed by its own creation. Before you start hoarding those invaluable bits of nylon and leather, though, keep this in mind: a new logo, the five dots of Nike Alpha Project, is waiting in the wings.

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