Watching the Clothes Go Round

In Search of the Fashion Don't

The problem with fashion, said Annie Perry, an artist raised in "heinous suburban" Maryland and now living on the Lower East Side, is that "everybody's dressed the same these days. Everybody's a Glamour Do. The way I see it, the world could use a few GlamourDon'ts." Walking her pit bull, Killer, through Tompkins Square Park in Hurricane Floyd's first onslaught, Perry had on a stretch-knit Joan Vass skirt bought in a Monkton thrift shop and a newly fashionable ripped jeans jacket swiped from an older brother who plays in a band. Her jersey T was a $300 Gucci left behind as payment by a former roommate who walked out on the rent. "The purse I'm carrying used to belong to my mother," said Perry, as Killer cowered and rain began driving down hard enough to raise welts. "She carried it every day and I inherited it when she died. Now I carry it every day myself." But that's not a fashion statement, the artist went on: "It's psychopathology."

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