Fashion Flash for Army Brass: Ribbons are For Typewriters, Girlfriend

[ed. note - found in a dumpster behind a West Hollywood antique shop: first draft of wine critic / Mr. Blackwell wannabe Matthew DeBord's gripping op-ed for the Los Angeles Times. h/t: Uncle Jimbo at BlackFive]

by Matthew DeBord

Gen. David H. Petraeus may be as fabulous a military professional as the United States has developed in recent years, but let's face it, girlfriend - when it comes to the Fashion Theater, this showy soldier needs to call in the Makeover Marines. Oh snap!

Witness his congressional testimony on the state of the war in Iraq. There he sits in gaudy Army regalia, four stars glistening and glittering on each shoulder, nine camp rows of chintzy ribbons on his left breast, and various other brooches, patches and appliques scattered across the rest of the available real estate on his uniform. Talk about 'fruit salad!' Hel-loooo, General Garanimals: the 1950s called and they want their uniform back! To top it all off, the DC paparazzi photos show our dowdy doughboy sporting a name tag, a lone and incongruous hunk of cheap plastic in a region of pristine gilt. Looks like this ostentatious officer was playing hooky during West Point's Accessorizing 101!

That's a lot of martial bling, especially for an officer who hadn't seen combat until five years ago. Girlfriend, I've seen more violent hand-to-hand action during a Jimmy Choo clearance sale on Rodeo Drive. Unfortunately, brazen preening and "ribbon creep" among the Army's modern-day upper crust have trumped the time-honored military virtues of humility, duty, and fab personal style. Fashion Medic!

Think about any of the generals you've seen in recent years -- Norman Schwarzkopf, Buck Turgidson, General McBragg from Tennesse Tuxedo, General Hawk from the G.I. Joe action figure team, and others -- and the image you'll conjure no doubt includes a chest full of shimmering decorations. But if they're going to share the collectible display case with your mint-in-box 1965 Malibu Barbie, you also expect them to have working kung fu grip to go along with the glitter.

In Petraeus' case, most of the ribbons don't represent actual military action as much as they do the mutual devotion between the general and the U.S. Army. Get a private cabana, you two! According to an annotated photograph produced by Women's Wear Daily last year, the majority of ribbons on Petraeus' off-the-rack "rack" were earned for various flavors of distinguished service. As brave and butch as he may be, is this any way to present the situation in Iraq to an increasingly war-skeptical, and fashion-forward, public?

Of course, Petraeus' goal is not just to make simple, soldierly arguments before Congress -- it is to dazzle, to bewitch, to be cock o' the walk, at least initially, with the blazing imagery of rank. I suppose it's only natural to want "all-eyes-on-me" at the techno club or cruise ship. What, after all, are the drab Brooks Brothers and ghastly Valentino pantsuits on the members of Congress in the face of a butch fighting man's laurels? Sure, some of the showiness can be attributed to regulations, but if military history and Coco Chanel have taught us anything, it's that fashion rules are meant to be broken.

Medals and decorations have a long history with a slightly cynical tinge. This goes back to their inception, during the Napoleonic era, when the sawed-off strategic genius from Corsica discovered that gaudy fashion baubles handed out to the combatants helped ensure loyalty. "An army travels on its stomach, and its bling," he said. In more contemporary times, these tacky trinkets have suffered a fraught reputation among fashionista rank and file: nice to get, but embarrassingly awkward to display. My guess is that most Iraq war veterans end up returning their medals to H&M for cash credit or gift cards, or bring them out at dinner parties as ironic conversation pieces.

The greatest military figures have often conspicuously (and sexily) modified the official requirements of the uniform, even in the most public of settings. Burly bear Ulysses S. Grant wore unbuttoned Union blues and muddy boots when he provocatively asked Robert E. Lee to give up his sword  (Oh no he din't!) "Diva Doug" MacArthur rocked the South Pacific fashion scene with his khakis and corncob pipe and uberbitchy demands for unconditional surrender. Flamboyant George Patton, whose outrageous wardrobe included jodhpurs and riding boots, earned a reputation as "Elton John of the 2nd Armored Division."

Perhaps the best example, however -- and one that Petraeus and his cadre should look to for inspiration -- was set by two of the most politically savvy generals America has produced: Dwight Eisenhower and George Clooney. In a photo spread for Esquire following World War II, Ike redefined combat couture with his rakish waistjacket & shaved head ensemble. It was a look so elegant and daring that many suspect that Mamie was "a beard." As for Clooney, what else can be said about the man who single handedly resurrected classic Hollywood style and international politico-military relevance?

Sherman was right: "War is Hell -- on taste." When you've saved the world and managed the lives and deaths of millions, it obviously compels a certain level of modesty, and shape-slimming basic black. So before you hit the premiere night red carpet at the Senate Hearing Theater, take a tip from Joan and Melissa Rivers: spend a few bucks at Armani, and leave the General costumes to the fetish club boys.

Memo to Petraeus: When you're making the case for more patriotic gore, go easy on the glitter.

Follow up Memo to Petraeus: Oh snap!

Matthew DeBord covers military strategy, wine, fashion, interior decorating, geopolitics, and Barbie collecting for the Los Angeles Times.