Does winter weather make you want to abandon your dresses and heels for a well-worn sweat suit? Don’t let blustery weather sap your style. There are plenty of ways you can stay warm and stylish this winter. Eden Dawn, co-founder of Student Stylists, style editor of Portland Monthly Magazine, and Fashion instructor at The Art Institute of Portland shares some of her secrets for bringing warmth to fashion. Also contributing some winter wardrobe survival style cues is Kimberly Gomez, image consultant and founder of Impeccable Image.

Does winter weather make you want to abandon your dresses and heels for a well-worn sweat suit? Don’t let blustery weather sap your style. There are plenty of ways you can stay warm and stylish this winter. Eden Dawn, co-founder of Student Stylists, style editor of Portland Monthly Magazine, and Fashion instructor at The Art Institute of Portland shares some of her secrets for bringing warmth to fashion. Also contributing some winter wardrobe survival style cues is Kimberly Gomez, image consultant and founder of Impeccable Image.

Kid Couture: High-end Fashion for Kids High-end designer apparel has found its way down to a population that can’t, in some instances, even read a label. Designers from Armani to Burberry have created pint-sized styles that appeal to both tiny fashionistas and their parents.Does winter weather make you want to abandon your dresses and heels for a well-worn sweat suit? Don’t let blustery weather sap your style. There are plenty of ways you can stay warm and stylish this winter. Eden Dawn, co-founder of Student Stylists, style editor of Portland Monthly Magazine, and Fashion instructor at The Art Institute of Portland shares some of her secrets for bringing warmth to fashion. Also contributing some winter wardrobe survival style cues is Kimberly Gomez, image consultant and founder of Impeccable Image.

Kid Couture: High-end Fashion for Kids High-end designer apparel has found its way down to a population that can’t, in some instances, even read a label. Designers from Armani to Burberry have created pint-sized styles that appeal to both tiny fashionistas and their parents.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income householdTraditional Skirts from GujaratYoga Hotel Kerala India Boutique Hotel. Enclosed Courtyard. Make Your Reservation Today! www.anandablissyogahotel.coms.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. From generations, the female antecedents time and again have taken great pride in flaunting the attainments of their craftsman by donning exquisite ghaghras or chaniyas. Commonly referred to as the chaniyo or chaniya, as charana (feet) were revealed, the ghaghra comprised of hues incorporated with tender care by the crafter. He made use of brilliant chromas that would intensify the pallor in the woman`s face and cause her to flush deeper. Also taking into account individual preferences, budgets, and attributes of the wearer, he went on to create a customized level of sophistication. These skirts have been beautified with sub-lime pleasure by artisans as if it were architecture. The finest to the rough textiles sensuously responded to his hands and emerged forth as fine elaborations. All his senses participated with relish. The rhythmic play of all these energies around him just made his heart swim with joy and plunge into the creation of yet another beautiful skirt. Each ghaghra was a fable inscribed on cloth. The mochi bharat craftsmen incorporated motifs that narrated a story of their skill, and tradition. For young girls, dancing figurines with one hand raised and one hand forward, were set within a cupped arch above a row of floral motifs. Each dancing motif would be depicted in long ornate skirts with a cornucopia of jewellery, with even their nose ornaments prominent in profile. Each dancer`s skirt was embroidered differently. All over the background of the skirt, the flowers would be stylized into flowering plants with a tiny cluster of five on a stem. Flowers with buds and leaves would also be set within a traditional paisley form. Peacocks were shown playing amongst the flowering plants. They would be sporty, with their tails held high and one swing held over the back in a lavish display of plumage. In another variation, to imitate the moon and the stars in the sky, craftsmen tied and dyed the fabric. On this patterned ground, peacocks would be sprawled all over amidst clover motifs. Hemlines would be floral set between long pointed leaves with smaller leaves filling the interstices, with parallel lines in contrasting colours on either side. Elephants with rich trappings bearing a rider would render a lavish effect. Elegantly caparisoned elephants would bear a howdah with two riders, and a mahaut. Parakeets of unsparing beauty would alternate with round flowers. A woman in a colorful skirt and odhani would also be portrayed holding a parakeet upon her hand. In rare masterpieces, damsels would be depicted feeding birds of beauty. Parakeets would also be perched on various branches of a stylized tree motif. All these motifs were given life and preci-sion with embroidery in various permutations and combinations of eye-popping tones like lively greens, fuschia, magical oranges, sunny yellows, and of course, riots of blues and reds, all seeking to steal the show. The rich would prefer these motifs woven with dexterity on the chaniyo yardage with silk yarns or zari yarns. Gold and red was a preference, in this case, as the bride`s trousseau demanded it. For weaving, the designs were stylized, with a more geometrical touch to it. An astonishing significance for even detailing in the drawstring at the waist or the waistband has been observed. One could also play with the girth of the skirts. The girth of embroidered skirts, made from coarse cottons to sturdy silks measured anywhere from 185 cms to around 365 cms wide at the hem. Ghaghra skirts of fine muslin or fine silk enhanced with block prints or ornamental weaves had more flare, to bring out the fabric fall more delicately, the maximum being even known to be around 1200cm. It is no wonder that these ghaghra skirts even fascinated the European women, who eventually would get one specially custom made with their own colour and motif specifications. They preferred roses, plum blossoms and butterflies in fawn, pale pink, light ochre, pale green, sky blue and echru. The artisan and dressmaker would take note of her requirements, and inculcate the European elements. The result was a recherché manifestation of Indo Chinese style embroidery on a panel, with creepers on pleats that lay on either side of the panel. Ghaghra skirts are a must have, today for all fashionistas. Designers like Ritu Kumar, Priyadarshini Rao all have created enticing ghaghra skirts which have smitten the world. Designers exploit the bond between colour, space, and form extremely well today to resurrect the ghaghra skirt in its innumerable forms today. The fairytale of the ghaghra skirt will never perish since these fashion mascots will never get tired of proclaiming its loveliness.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income householdTraditional Skirts from GujaratYoga Hotel Kerala India Boutique Hotel. Enclosed Courtyard. Make Your Reservation Today! www.anandablissyogahotel.coms.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. From generations, the female antecedents time and again have taken great pride in flaunting the attainments of their craftsman by donning exquisite ghaghras or chaniyas. Commonly referred to as the chaniyo or chaniya, as charana (feet) were revealed, the ghaghra comprised of hues incorporated with tender care by the crafter. He made use of brilliant chromas that would intensify the pallor in the woman`s face and cause her to flush deeper. Also taking into account individual preferences, budgets, and attributes of the wearer, he went on to create a customized level of sophistication. These skirts have been beautified with sub-lime pleasure by artisans as if it were architecture. The finest to the rough textiles sensuously responded to his hands and emerged forth as fine elaborations. All his senses participated with relish. The rhythmic play of all these energies around him just made his heart swim with joy and plunge into the creation of yet another beautiful skirt. Each ghaghra was a fable inscribed on cloth. The mochi bharat craftsmen incorporated motifs that narrated a story of their skill, and tradition. For young girls, dancing figurines with one hand raised and one hand forward, were set within a cupped arch above a row of floral motifs. Each dancing motif would be depicted in long ornate skirts with a cornucopia of jewellery, with even their nose ornaments prominent in profile. Each dancer`s skirt was embroidered differently. All over the background of the skirt, the flowers would be stylized into flowering plants with a tiny cluster of five on a stem. Flowers with buds and leaves would also be set within a traditional paisley form. Peacocks were shown playing amongst the flowering plants. They would be sporty, with their tails held high and one swing held over the back in a lavish display of plumage. In another variation, to imitate the moon and the stars in the sky, craftsmen tied and dyed the fabric. On this patterned ground, peacocks would be sprawled all over amidst clover motifs. Hemlines would be floral set between long pointed leaves with smaller leaves filling the interstices, with parallel lines in contrasting colours on either side. Elephants with rich trappings bearing a rider would render a lavish effect. Elegantly caparisoned elephants would bear a howdah with two riders, and a mahaut. Parakeets of unsparing beauty would alternate with round flowers. A woman in a colorful skirt and odhani would also be portrayed holding a parakeet upon her hand. In rare masterpieces, damsels would be depicted feeding birds of beauty. Parakeets would also be perched on various branches of a stylized tree motif. All these motifs were given life and preci-sion with embroidery in various permutations and combinations of eye-popping tones like lively greens, fuschia, magical oranges, sunny yellows, and of course, riots of blues and reds, all seeking to steal the show. The rich would prefer these motifs woven with dexterity on the chaniyo yardage with silk yarns or zari yarns. Gold and red was a preference, in this case, as the bride`s trousseau demanded it. For weaving, the designs were stylized, with a more geometrical touch to it. An astonishing significance for even detailing in the drawstring at the waist or the waistband has been observed. One could also play with the girth of the skirts. The girth of embroidered skirts, made from coarse cottons to sturdy silks measured anywhere from 185 cms to around 365 cms wide at the hem. Ghaghra skirts of fine muslin or fine silk enhanced with block prints or ornamental weaves had more flare, to bring out the fabric fall more delicately, the maximum being even known to be around 1200cm. It is no wonder that these ghaghra skirts even fascinated the European women, who eventually would get one specially custom made with their own colour and motif specifications. They preferred roses, plum blossoms and butterflies in fawn, pale pink, light ochre, pale green, sky blue and echru. The artisan and dressmaker would take note of her requirements, and inculcate the European elements. The result was a recherché manifestation of Indo Chinese style embroidery on a panel, with creepers on pleats that lay on either side of the panel. Ghaghra skirts are a must have, today for all fashionistas. Designers like Ritu Kumar, Priyadarshini Rao all have created enticing ghaghra skirts which have smitten the world. Designers exploit the bond between colour, space, and form extremely well today to resurrect the ghaghra skirt in its innumerable forms today. The fairytale of the ghaghra skirt will never perish since these fashion mascots will never get tired of proclaiming its loveliness.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income householdTraditional Skirts from GujaratYoga Hotel Kerala India Boutique Hotel. Enclosed Courtyard. Make Your Reservation Today! www.anandablissyogahotel.coms.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. From generations, the female antecedents time and again have taken great pride in flaunting the attainments of their craftsman by donning exquisite ghaghras or chaniyas. Commonly referred to as the chaniyo or chaniya, as charana (feet) were revealed, the ghaghra comprised of hues incorporated with tender care by the crafter. He made use of brilliant chromas that would intensify the pallor in the woman`s face and cause her to flush deeper. Also taking into account individual preferences, budgets, and attributes of the wearer, he went on to create a customized level of sophistication. These skirts have been beautified with sub-lime pleasure by artisans as if it were architecture. The finest to the rough textiles sensuously responded to his hands and emerged forth as fine elaborations. All his senses participated with relish. The rhythmic play of all these energies around him just made his heart swim with joy and plunge into the creation of yet another beautiful skirt. Each ghaghra was a fable inscribed on cloth. The mochi bharat craftsmen incorporated motifs that narrated a story of their skill, and tradition. For young girls, dancing figurines with one hand raised and one hand forward, were set within a cupped arch above a row of floral motifs. Each dancing motif would be depicted in long ornate skirts with a cornucopia of jewellery, with even their nose ornaments prominent in profile. Each dancer`s skirt was embroidered differently. All over the background of the skirt, the flowers would be stylized into flowering plants with a tiny cluster of five on a stem. Flowers with buds and leaves would also be set within a traditional paisley form. Peacocks were shown playing amongst the flowering plants. They would be sporty, with their tails held high and one swing held over the back in a lavish display of plumage. In another variation, to imitate the moon and the stars in the sky, craftsmen tied and dyed the fabric. On this patterned ground, peacocks would be sprawled all over amidst clover motifs. Hemlines would be floral set between long pointed leaves with smaller leaves filling the interstices, with parallel lines in contrasting colours on either side. Elephants with rich trappings bearing a rider would render a lavish effect. Elegantly caparisoned elephants would bear a howdah with two riders, and a mahaut. Parakeets of unsparing beauty would alternate with round flowers. A woman in a colorful skirt and odhani would also be portrayed holding a parakeet upon her hand. In rare masterpieces, damsels would be depicted feeding birds of beauty. Parakeets would also be perched on various branches of a stylized tree motif. All these motifs were given life and preci-sion with embroidery in various permutations and combinations of eye-popping tones like lively greens, fuschia, magical oranges, sunny yellows, and of course, riots of blues and reds, all seeking to steal the show. The rich would prefer these motifs woven with dexterity on the chaniyo yardage with silk yarns or zari yarns. Gold and red was a preference, in this case, as the bride`s trousseau demanded it. For weaving, the designs were stylized, with a more geometrical touch to it. An astonishing significance for even detailing in the drawstring at the waist or the waistband has been observed. One could also play with the girth of the skirts. The girth of embroidered skirts, made from coarse cottons to sturdy silks measured anywhere from 185 cms to around 365 cms wide at the hem. Ghaghra skirts of fine muslin or fine silk enhanced with block prints or ornamental weaves had more flare, to bring out the fabric fall more delicately, the maximum being even known to be around 1200cm. It is no wonder that these ghaghra skirts even fascinated the European women, who eventually would get one specially custom made with their own colour and motif specifications. They preferred roses, plum blossoms and butterflies in fawn, pale pink, light ochre, pale green, sky blue and echru. The artisan and dressmaker would take note of her requirements, and inculcate the European elements. The result was a recherché manifestation of Indo Chinese style embroidery on a panel, with creepers on pleats that lay on either side of the panel. Ghaghra skirts are a must have, today for all fashionistas. Designers like Ritu Kumar, Priyadarshini Rao all have created enticing ghaghra skirts which have smitten the world. Designers exploit the bond between colour, space, and form extremely well today to resurrect the ghaghra skirt in its innumerable forms today. The fairytale of the ghaghra skirt will never perish since these fashion mascots will never get tired of proclaiming its loveliness.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income householdTraditional Skirts from GujaratYoga Hotel Kerala India Boutique Hotel. Enclosed Courtyard. Make Your Reservation Today! www.anandablissyogahotel.coms.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. From generations, the female antecedents time and again have taken great pride in flaunting the attainments of their craftsman by donning exquisite ghaghras or chaniyas. Commonly referred to as the chaniyo or chaniya, as charana (feet) were revealed, the ghaghra comprised of hues incorporated with tender care by the crafter. He made use of brilliant chromas that would intensify the pallor in the woman`s face and cause her to flush deeper. Also taking into account individual preferences, budgets, and attributes of the wearer, he went on to create a customized level of sophistication. These skirts have been beautified with sub-lime pleasure by artisans as if it were architecture. The finest to the rough textiles sensuously responded to his hands and emerged forth as fine elaborations. All his senses participated with relish. The rhythmic play of all these energies around him just made his heart swim with joy and plunge into the creation of yet another beautiful skirt. Each ghaghra was a fable inscribed on cloth. The mochi bharat craftsmen incorporated motifs that narrated a story of their skill, and tradition. For young girls, dancing figurines with one hand raised and one hand forward, were set within a cupped arch above a row of floral motifs. Each dancing motif would be depicted in long ornate skirts with a cornucopia of jewellery, with even their nose ornaments prominent in profile. Each dancer`s skirt was embroidered differently. All over the background of the skirt, the flowers would be stylized into flowering plants with a tiny cluster of five on a stem. Flowers with buds and leaves would also be set within a traditional paisley form. Peacocks were shown playing amongst the flowering plants. They would be sporty, with their tails held high and one swing held over the back in a lavish display of plumage. In another variation, to imitate the moon and the stars in the sky, craftsmen tied and dyed the fabric. On this patterned ground, peacocks would be sprawled all over amidst clover motifs. Hemlines would be floral set between long pointed leaves with smaller leaves filling the interstices, with parallel lines in contrasting colours on either side. Elephants with rich trappings bearing a rider would render a lavish effect. Elegantly caparisoned elephants would bear a howdah with two riders, and a mahaut. Parakeets of unsparing beauty would alternate with round flowers. A woman in a colorful skirt and odhani would also be portrayed holding a parakeet upon her hand. In rare masterpieces, damsels would be depicted feeding birds of beauty. Parakeets would also be perched on various branches of a stylized tree motif. All these motifs were given life and preci-sion with embroidery in various permutations and combinations of eye-popping tones like lively greens, fuschia, magical oranges, sunny yellows, and of course, riots of blues and reds, all seeking to steal the show. The rich would prefer these motifs woven with dexterity on the chaniyo yardage with silk yarns or zari yarns. Gold and red was a preference, in this case, as the bride`s trousseau demanded it. For weaving, the designs were stylized, with a more geometrical touch to it. An astonishing significance for even detailing in the drawstring at the waist or the waistband has been observed. One could also play with the girth of the skirts. The girth of embroidered skirts, made from coarse cottons to sturdy silks measured anywhere from 185 cms to around 365 cms wide at the hem. Ghaghra skirts of fine muslin or fine silk enhanced with block prints or ornamental weaves had more flare, to bring out the fabric fall more delicately, the maximum being even known to be around 1200cm. It is no wonder that these ghaghra skirts even fascinated the European women, who eventually would get one specially custom made with their own colour and motif specifications. They preferred roses, plum blossoms and butterflies in fawn, pale pink, light ochre, pale green, sky blue and echru. The artisan and dressmaker would take note of her requirements, and inculcate the European elements. The result was a recherché manifestation of Indo Chinese style embroidery on a panel, with creepers on pleats that lay on either side of the panel. Ghaghra skirts are a must have, today for all fashionistas. Designers like Ritu Kumar, Priyadarshini Rao all have created enticing ghaghra skirts which have smitten the world. Designers exploit the bond between colour, space, and form extremely well today to resurrect the ghaghra skirt in its innumerable forms today. The fairytale of the ghaghra skirt will never perish since these fashion mascots will never get tired of proclaiming its loveliness.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income householdTraditional Skirts from GujaratYoga Hotel Kerala India Boutique Hotel. Enclosed Courtyard. Make Your Reservation Today! www.anandablissyogahotel.coms.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. From generations, the female antecedents time and again have taken great pride in flaunting the attainments of their craftsman by donning exquisite ghaghras or chaniyas. Commonly referred to as the chaniyo or chaniya, as charana (feet) were revealed, the ghaghra comprised of hues incorporated with tender care by the crafter. He made use of brilliant chromas that would intensify the pallor in the woman`s face and cause her to flush deeper. Also taking into account individual preferences, budgets, and attributes of the wearer, he went on to create a customized level of sophistication. These skirts have been beautified with sub-lime pleasure by artisans as if it were architecture. The finest to the rough textiles sensuously responded to his hands and emerged forth as fine elaborations. All his senses participated with relish. The rhythmic play of all these energies around him just made his heart swim with joy and plunge into the creation of yet another beautiful skirt. Each ghaghra was a fable inscribed on cloth. The mochi bharat craftsmen incorporated motifs that narrated a story of their skill, and tradition. For young girls, dancing figurines with one hand raised and one hand forward, were set within a cupped arch above a row of floral motifs. Each dancing motif would be depicted in long ornate skirts with a cornucopia of jewellery, with even their nose ornaments prominent in profile. Each dancer`s skirt was embroidered differently. All over the background of the skirt, the flowers would be stylized into flowering plants with a tiny cluster of five on a stem. Flowers with buds and leaves would also be set within a traditional paisley form. Peacocks were shown playing amongst the flowering plants. They would be sporty, with their tails held high and one swing held over the back in a lavish display of plumage. In another variation, to imitate the moon and the stars in the sky, craftsmen tied and dyed the fabric. On this patterned ground, peacocks would be sprawled all over amidst clover motifs. Hemlines would be floral set between long pointed leaves with smaller leaves filling the interstices, with parallel lines in contrasting colours on either side. Elephants with rich trappings bearing a rider would render a lavish effect. Elegantly caparisoned elephants would bear a howdah with two riders, and a mahaut. Parakeets of unsparing beauty would alternate with round flowers. A woman in a colorful skirt and odhani would also be portrayed holding a parakeet upon her hand. In rare masterpieces, damsels would be depicted feeding birds of beauty. Parakeets would also be perched on various branches of a stylized tree motif. All these motifs were given life and preci-sion with embroidery in various permutations and combinations of eye-popping tones like lively greens, fuschia, magical oranges, sunny yellows, and of course, riots of blues and reds, all seeking to steal the show. The rich would prefer these motifs woven with dexterity on the chaniyo yardage with silk yarns or zari yarns. Gold and red was a preference, in this case, as the bride`s trousseau demanded it. For weaving, the designs were stylized, with a more geometrical touch to it. An astonishing significance for even detailing in the drawstring at the waist or the waistband has been observed. One could also play with the girth of the skirts. The girth of embroidered skirts, made from coarse cottons to sturdy silks measured anywhere from 185 cms to around 365 cms wide at the hem. Ghaghra skirts of fine muslin or fine silk enhanced with block prints or ornamental weaves had more flare, to bring out the fabric fall more delicately, the maximum being even known to be around 1200cm. It is no wonder that these ghaghra skirts even fascinated the European women, who eventually would get one specially custom made with their own colour and motif specifications. They preferred roses, plum blossoms and butterflies in fawn, pale pink, light ochre, pale green, sky blue and echru. The artisan and dressmaker would take note of her requirements, and inculcate the European elements. The result was a recherché manifestation of Indo Chinese style embroidery on a panel, with creepers on pleats that lay on either side of the panel. Ghaghra skirts are a must have, today for all fashionistas. Designers like Ritu Kumar, Priyadarshini Rao all have created enticing ghaghra skirts which have smitten the world. Designers exploit the bond between colour, space, and form extremely well today to resurrect the ghaghra skirt in its innumerable forms today. The fairytale of the ghaghra skirt will never perish since these fashion mascots will never get tired of proclaiming its loveliness.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income householdTraditional Skirts from GujaratYoga Hotel Kerala India Boutique Hotel. Enclosed Courtyard. Make Your Reservation Today! www.anandablissyogahotel.coms.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. From generations, the female antecedents time and again have taken great pride in flaunting the attainments of their craftsman by donning exquisite ghaghras or chaniyas. Commonly referred to as the chaniyo or chaniya, as charana (feet) were revealed, the ghaghra comprised of hues incorporated with tender care by the crafter. He made use of brilliant chromas that would intensify the pallor in the woman`s face and cause her to flush deeper. Also taking into account individual preferences, budgets, and attributes of the wearer, he went on to create a customized level of sophistication. These skirts have been beautified with sub-lime pleasure by artisans as if it were architecture. The finest to the rough textiles sensuously responded to his hands and emerged forth as fine elaborations. All his senses participated with relish. The rhythmic play of all these energies around him just made his heart swim with joy and plunge into the creation of yet another beautiful skirt. Each ghaghra was a fable inscribed on cloth. The mochi bharat craftsmen incorporated motifs that narrated a story of their skill, and tradition. For young girls, dancing figurines with one hand raised and one hand forward, were set within a cupped arch above a row of floral motifs. Each dancing motif would be depicted in long ornate skirts with a cornucopia of jewellery, with even their nose ornaments prominent in profile. Each dancer`s skirt was embroidered differently. All over the background of the skirt, the flowers would be stylized into flowering plants with a tiny cluster of five on a stem. Flowers with buds and leaves would also be set within a traditional paisley form. Peacocks were shown playing amongst the flowering plants. They would be sporty, with their tails held high and one swing held over the back in a lavish display of plumage. In another variation, to imitate the moon and the stars in the sky, craftsmen tied and dyed the fabric. On this patterned ground, peacocks would be sprawled all over amidst clover motifs. Hemlines would be floral set between long pointed leaves with smaller leaves filling the interstices, with parallel lines in contrasting colours on either side. Elephants with rich trappings bearing a rider would render a lavish effect. Elegantly caparisoned elephants would bear a howdah with two riders, and a mahaut. Parakeets of unsparing beauty would alternate with round flowers. A woman in a colorful skirt and odhani would also be portrayed holding a parakeet upon her hand. In rare masterpieces, damsels would be depicted feeding birds of beauty. Parakeets would also be perched on various branches of a stylized tree motif. All these motifs were given life and preci-sion with embroidery in various permutations and combinations of eye-popping tones like lively greens, fuschia, magical oranges, sunny yellows, and of course, riots of blues and reds, all seeking to steal the show. The rich would prefer these motifs woven with dexterity on the chaniyo yardage with silk yarns or zari yarns. Gold and red was a preference, in this case, as the bride`s trousseau demanded it. For weaving, the designs were stylized, with a more geometrical touch to it. An astonishing significance for even detailing in the drawstring at the waist or the waistband has been observed. One could also play with the girth of the skirts. The girth of embroidered skirts, made from coarse cottons to sturdy silks measured anywhere from 185 cms to around 365 cms wide at the hem. Ghaghra skirts of fine muslin or fine silk enhanced with block prints or ornamental weaves had more flare, to bring out the fabric fall more delicately, the maximum being even known to be around 1200cm. It is no wonder that these ghaghra skirts even fascinated the European women, who eventually would get one specially custom made with their own colour and motif specifications. They preferred roses, plum blossoms and butterflies in fawn, pale pink, light ochre, pale green, sky blue and echru. The artisan and dressmaker would take note of her requirements, and inculcate the European elements. The result was a recherché manifestation of Indo Chinese style embroidery on a panel, with creepers on pleats that lay on either side of the panel. Ghaghra skirts are a must have, today for all fashionistas. Designers like Ritu Kumar, Priyadarshini Rao all have created enticing ghaghra skirts which have smitten the world. Designers exploit the bond between colour, space, and form extremely well today to resurrect the ghaghra skirt in its innumerable forms today. The fairytale of the ghaghra skirt will never perish since these fashion mascots will never get tired of proclaiming its loveliness.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income householdTraditional Skirts from GujaratYoga Hotel Kerala India Boutique Hotel. Enclosed Courtyard. Make Your Reservation Today! www.anandablissyogahotel.coms.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. From generations, the female antecedents time and again have taken great pride in flaunting the attainments of their craftsman by donning exquisite ghaghras or chaniyas. Commonly referred to as the chaniyo or chaniya, as charana (feet) were revealed, the ghaghra comprised of hues incorporated with tender care by the crafter. He made use of brilliant chromas that would intensify the pallor in the woman`s face and cause her to flush deeper. Also taking into account individual preferences, budgets, and attributes of the wearer, he went on to create a customized level of sophistication. These skirts have been beautified with sub-lime pleasure by artisans as if it were architecture. The finest to the rough textiles sensuously responded to his hands and emerged forth as fine elaborations. All his senses participated with relish. The rhythmic play of all these energies around him just made his heart swim with joy and plunge into the creation of yet another beautiful skirt. Each ghaghra was a fable inscribed on cloth. The mochi bharat craftsmen incorporated motifs that narrated a story of their skill, and tradition. For young girls, dancing figurines with one hand raised and one hand forward, were set within a cupped arch above a row of floral motifs. Each dancing motif would be depicted in long ornate skirts with a cornucopia of jewellery, with even their nose ornaments prominent in profile. Each dancer`s skirt was embroidered differently. All over the background of the skirt, the flowers would be stylized into flowering plants with a tiny cluster of five on a stem. Flowers with buds and leaves would also be set within a traditional paisley form. Peacocks were shown playing amongst the flowering plants. They would be sporty, with their tails held high and one swing held over the back in a lavish display of plumage. In another variation, to imitate the moon and the stars in the sky, craftsmen tied and dyed the fabric. On this patterned ground, peacocks would be sprawled all over amidst clover motifs. Hemlines would be floral set between long pointed leaves with smaller leaves filling the interstices, with parallel lines in contrasting colours on either side. Elephants with rich trappings bearing a rider would render a lavish effect. Elegantly caparisoned elephants would bear a howdah with two riders, and a mahaut. Parakeets of unsparing beauty would alternate with round flowers. A woman in a colorful skirt and odhani would also be portrayed holding a parakeet upon her hand. In rare masterpieces, damsels would be depicted feeding birds of beauty. Parakeets would also be perched on various branches of a stylized tree motif. All these motifs were given life and preci-sion with embroidery in various permutations and combinations of eye-popping tones like lively greens, fuschia, magical oranges, sunny yellows, and of course, riots of blues and reds, all seeking to steal the show. The rich would prefer these motifs woven with dexterity on the chaniyo yardage with silk yarns or zari yarns. Gold and red was a preference, in this case, as the bride`s trousseau demanded it. For weaving, the designs were stylized, with a more geometrical touch to it. An astonishing significance for even detailing in the drawstring at the waist or the waistband has been observed. One could also play with the girth of the skirts. The girth of embroidered skirts, made from coarse cottons to sturdy silks measured anywhere from 185 cms to around 365 cms wide at the hem. Ghaghra skirts of fine muslin or fine silk enhanced with block prints or ornamental weaves had more flare, to bring out the fabric fall more delicately, the maximum being even known to be around 1200cm. It is no wonder that these ghaghra skirts even fascinated the European women, who eventually would get one specially custom made with their own colour and motif specifications. They preferred roses, plum blossoms and butterflies in fawn, pale pink, light ochre, pale green, sky blue and echru. The artisan and dressmaker would take note of her requirements, and inculcate the European elements. The result was a recherché manifestation of Indo Chinese style embroidery on a panel, with creepers on pleats that lay on either side of the panel. Ghaghra skirts are a must have, today for all fashionistas. Designers like Ritu Kumar, Priyadarshini Rao all have created enticing ghaghra skirts which have smitten the world. Designers exploit the bond between colour, space, and form extremely well today to resurrect the ghaghra skirt in its innumerable forms today. The fairytale of the ghaghra skirt will never perish since these fashion mascots will never get tired of proclaiming its loveliness.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income households.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy. If enacted the bill would amend the Copyright Act to provide three years of protection to fashion designs that meet defined standards of originality and novelty. As defined in the bill, a fashion design is the “appearance as a whole of an article of apparel including its ornamentation.” An infringement of a protected design occurs if a copy is found to be “substantially identical in overall appearance” to the protected design, so long as it can be “reasonably inferred [that the copyist] saw or otherwise had knowledge of the protected design.” The bill includes a system of penalties and various provisions to limit collateral consequences like excessive litigation as well as unfair burdens on emerging designers and home sewers. Once the law was in place, fashion would join computer software, vessel hulls, and architectural designs as recent exceptions to the “useful article” rule written into the Copyright Act. The U.S. apparel industry has essentially always operated in a “low intellectual property equilibrium” (as law professors Kal Raustiala and Chris Sprigman have aptly surmised in their influential study of fashion copyright). Trademark protects certain features in fashion design like brand names, logos, and unique attributes that consumers use to identify designs with a particular brand. The stitched polo player on Ralph Lauren’s shirts is protected, but the overall design of the shirt is not. The plaid pattern made famous in the linings of Burberry’s top coats is protected; the silhouettes of their topcoats are not. As for patents, the process is too slow and its standards of novelty too strict for fashion. Copyright law has traditionally not protected fashion because a garment is considered a “useful article” that combines a utilitarian purpose (covering the body) with the designer’s creative expression. Still, certain articles like a sculpted brooch or an artistic belt buckle are protected if they are considered works of art that are separable, at least conceptually, from the clothing article itself. And while a two-dimensional sketch is generally protected, the physical rendition of the design as an article of clothing is not. “[A] man’s property is limited by the chattels of his invention,” wrote Judge Learned Hand in an important 1929 case involving dress designs, Cheney Bros. v. Doris Silk. “Others,” he concluded, “may imitate these at their pleasure.” The case before Judge Hand bore remarkable similarity to the fashion-copying issue before us today. The complainant was a company, Cheney Bros., Inc., whose business model employed constant experiments with dozens of dress patterns simultaneously to discover the designs that would become market trends. Meanwhile the respondent, a company named Doris Silk, would copy the successful dress patterns once they were identified by Cheney’s experiments and then proceed to undercut its prices. Even though Judge Hand’s opinion is full of sympathy with Cheney and he had some degree of impatience with the design copyist, he ultimately could find no refuge for design originators in the law. “To exclude others from the enjoyment of a chattel is one thing; to prevent any imitation of it, to set up a monopoly in the plan of its structure, gives the author a power which the Constitution allows only Congress to create.” Having been spurned by the courts, fashion designers did not initially go to Congress for protection. Instead, the industry organized more effectively and took matters into its own hands. The Fashion Originators Guild of America, a cartel among design originators, lasted from 1932 to 1941. Guild members agreed to boycott retailers who dealt with known copyists. The Guild employed clandestine shoppers trained to spot fakes and a tribunal to determine whether designs were copies. Guild members were fined for conducting business with known copyists. While reportedly successful at achieving its ends, the Guild was dismantled in 1941 by the U.S. Supreme Court, which ruled the boycott in violation of the Sherman Antitrust Act. Since then the fashion world has enjoyed almost no intellectual property protection. Meanwhile, as one would expect, copying of fashion designs has been rampant and grows faster and more efficient with digital communication and production technologies. Some design copying occurs bilaterally between individual designers. For instance, in 2009 Diane von Furstenberg inadvertently copied protected elements of a men’s jacket designed by two Canadian designers (the dispute was later settled out of court). More commonly, large-scale manufacturers copy the designs of small-scale and artisanal designers, then bring mass quantities of the modified design to market at lower prices. During fashion week or the Oscars, for example, copyists hurriedly beam runway photos to factories around the globe, which translate the images into wearable copies and begin manufacturing tout de suite. Copyists can place finished garments on store racks in a few weeks. It is this latter, large-scale form of copying that most disturbs design originators. “When things get copied, it’s like somebody coming into my head and robbing, stealing,” designer Maria Cornejo told NPR’s Kaomi Goetz during New York fashion week last September. This reflects the attitude more broadly of the industry’s upper crust of designers, which sometimes vilifies copyists in support of the pending legislation. In 1996 Narciso Rodriguez designed a wedding gown for his friend Carolyn Bessette for her marriage to John F. Kennedy, Jr. The gown was instantly copied and marketed around the world before Rodriguez could commercialize his own design. Fifteen years later the cleanly elegant design is still popular among brides and easy to find online. Testifying before Congress in 2008 Rodriguez pleaded for protection. “They have stolen my DNA,” he said. “We need your help.” As Judge Hand reminds us, copyright is essentially a form of legal monopoly. As with any restriction of competitive market forces, consumers are made to pay higher prices and enjoy less choice than without monopoly. Copyright also restricts the public domain, diminishing the rate of downstream innovation. So the downside to copyright is higher access costs for two groups. On the other hand, copyright is intended to encourage creative works since the designers know that their monopoly position will let them capture most of the economic value of their innovation. In short, copyright is a social tradeoff: Some access is sacrificed for more innovation. This is a deeply ingrained concept in American society, as Article I Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution empowers Congress “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Empirically speaking, the tradeoff bears no relevance to the fashion industry. Rather, fashion is well known as a highly competitive and highly innovative market. Design innovation in fashion is vibrant even though design originators enjoy no copyright and copying is widespread. Each fashion cycle unveils a remarkably creative array of novel designs. Entry by new designers is robust, and bold newcomers often move to the cutting edges of innovation. According to the evidence, the creative forces of design originators respond to something deeper than intellectual property protection, perhaps artistic imperative or the quest for fame. As for revenues, design originators have developed indirect mechanisms to lend their reputational capital to perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories, whose high markups afford handsome licensing fees. To be accurate, the supporters of the legislation do not seek to promote innovation but to achieve what they regard as fairness. Steven Kolb, the executive director of the Council of Fashion Designers of America, summed it up in that NPR report: “Designers invest a lot of time, a lot of resources, a lot of energy into creating their collections. It can take them nine months and billions of dollars. So when they present those collections and somebody can just steal them right off the runway, within seconds, and profit from their work, their energy, their intellectual property—it’s not fair.” Nonetheless, this competitive and innovative outcome is puzzling because the lack of copyright does not appear to have been significantly costly to the industry. On the contrary, copying helps the fashion industry broaden the scope of its innovations and achieve greater relevance to consumers and society. As we scratch the surface of the fashion industry and begin to analyze it more closely, we can see why fashion inverts the expected economics of intellectual property. As consumers of fashion (that is, all of us) we show enormous variety in the way each of us views it. We all place different combinations of value on novelty, exclusivity, style, variety, conformity, comfort, and of course money. Some of us are fashion-conscious. Others have mastered that traveling professor look. Probably most of us take fashion more seriously than we would admit. And we all seem to have strong feelings about how much time and money ought to be spent shopping. Copyists enable the industry to meet the range of consumer preferences by segmenting the market into as many different consumer types as possible. By segmenting choices into different styles and price ranges, copyists let consumers easily identify with fashion, become comfortable with a look, experiment and cross over between segments, or pick and choose from multiple segments at once. Go ahead and splurge on the suit, but bargain hunt for the shirt and tie. Segmenting also lets people with low incomes afford to participate in fashion and have access to tasteful, fashionable looks even on a modest budget. Walmart in fact sells its own apparel lines and began showing at New York’s Fashion Week in 2005. Fast fashion has dramatically expanded the options available to low-income households.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

Fashion Design and Copyrightby EDWARD LÓPEZ Should fashion designs be eligible for copyrights? When I listen to people talk about this issue, many of the same interesting arguments come up. These people know about designer knockoffs and feel that something is not quite fair about them. Yet they also view copyists as moving innovation along in the fashion world. Copying releases new fashions from the small circles of their origins to the wider marketplace; it translates designs from abstract experimentation on the catwalk to concrete wearability on the sidewalk. Copying thus plays a vital market role in fashion. And so, in my admittedly small and biased sample, a typical conversation about fashion copyright invariably trends toward a reluctant opposition. The issue arises because after a century of relegating fashion designs to the wilderness of intellectual property law, Washington seems poised to begin domesticating the fashion industry. With Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) as lead sponsor, the Innovative Design Protection and Piracy Prevention Act (S.3278) was introduced last August. Design protection bills have been introduced routinely since the 1970s. Yet only in recent years has the cause gained significant legislative momentum. Since 2005 about a dozen precursors to the current bill have been introduced in the House and Senate. A slate of hearings has harvested the views of academics, designers, and celebrity witnesses. The current bill—pruned by numerous drafts and political-legal deals, plus a detailed review by the U.S. Copyright Office—was a honed legislative compromise designed to win majorities in both chambers in a postelection congressional logrolling frenzy.

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New Year, New Outfits

FRANKLIN FOER’S latest book is a giant game of Jewish geography. An almost indecent number of the 50 writers he and his co-editor, Marc Tracy, recruited to write profiles for “Jewish Jocks: An Unorthodox Hall of Fame” are friends and sometime colleagues. And the panel discussion held recently at the Union Square Barnes & Noble, just a few hundred feet from where Emma Goldman once roused crowds in Yiddish, felt kind of like a bar mitzvah. The Collection: A New Fashion App for the iPad A one-stop destination for Times fashion coverage and the latest from the runways. Download It From the App Store Follow Us on Twitter Follow @NYTimesfashion for fashion, beauty and lifestyle news and headlines. David Remnick was kibitzing, and his Cosell imitation killed. Mr. Tracy got a big laugh simply by saying of a fabled Jewish basketball team, the Dizzy Izzies, “They were very short, because you know.” A sampling of the names that appear in “Jewish Jocks”: Bimstein, Rothstein, Epstein, Goldstein, two Goldbergs, two Greenbergs, Berkovic, Remnick, Lithwick, Leibovich, Lieberman, Leibovitz, Arnovitz, Shulevitz, Spitz, Plotz. Surprisingly, only two of the book’s writers are named Jonathan, one of them Mr. Foer’s younger brother Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote a profile of the mentally disturbed chess player Bobby Fischer (the book defines “jock” very liberally) and who sat beside his brother at Barnes & Noble, in a beard that was beyond rabbinical, approaching Unabomber. When Franklin Foer, 37 and bespectacled, is not engaging in tribal celebrations, he works a day job as the editor of The New Republic — a role that looks considerably sunnier than it did his first time around. Like the past New Republic editors Michael Kinsley and Hendrik Hertzberg, Mr. Foer has left, then returned to this position. During Mr. Foer’s initial stint as editor, from 2006 to 2010, he worked under three different owners. The magazine’s circulation had declined by almost 40 percent in the previous four years, and he had to contend with budget cuts and a boss widely viewed as difficult (Martin Peretz, who bought The New Republic in 1974). Mr. Foer called it a “preservation mission.” “But it’s a whole new world now,” Mr. Foer said. As of March, the controlling owner is Chris Hughes, a baby-faced Facebook co-founder who made his first zillion at 23, directed the 2008 Obama campaign’s social media operation, and is now injecting real money and ambition into The New Republic, hoping to propel it from the ranks of little magazines to compete with titles like The New Yorker and New York. (Mr. Hughes, a New Yorker, has opened and populated an office in the Flatiron district and promised a more pronounced New York voice, though the headquarters remain in Washington.) One of his first acts as publisher and editor in chief was to rehire Mr. Foer, and together they’ve undertaken a makeover that will culminate in a rebirth of the magazine and its Web and mobile components in late January. Mr. Foer’s Washington office exhibits a distinct secular-Jewish sensibility, if a less borscht belt-y one than he shows in “Jewish Jocks.” When Louis Brandeis was nominated to be the first Jewish Supreme Court justice, in 1916, the Boston Brahmin establishment tried “to do him in,” Mr. Foer said. “So the magazine put together this diagram showing how all the people who were campaigning against Brandeis were interconnected by their clubs and their set of very WASPy incestuous relationships.” Despite the editor’s entreaties, The New Republic’s owner caved to social pressures and spiked it. The diagram and a pleading letter from the editor to the owner, both now framed, hang on Mr. Foer’s wall. Brandeis, an anti-monopolist and crusader for social justice, figures prominently in the book that Mr. Foer has been working on, a history of liberalism. Brandeis is also a great hero to Mr. Foer’s father, Albert Foer, a Brandeis graduate who in 1998 founded the American Antitrust Institute, a nonprofit that advocates for vigorous anti-monopoly enforcement. “My father orchestrated dinnertime discussions about politics, ethics and the world,” Mr. Foer said. But he also taught his sons “how to tease and be teased.” Today, around the dinner table at his Cleveland Park house with his wife, Abby Greensfelder, a television producer, and their two young daughters, he said, “I still put him on speaker phone at dinnertime so that I can lean on him to answer my kids’ most challenging questions.” Mr. Foer’s mother, Esther Safran Foer, spent her career as a publicist, but since 2007 she has thrown herself into transforming the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, in Washington’s Chinatown, into what he called “a 92nd Street Y for D.C.” While both of his parents claimed their true callings late in life, their sons have distinguished themselves by their early achievements. Mr. Foer, who attended Columbia, first became editor of The New Republic at age 31. Besides “Jewish Jocks,” he has written “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” A review in The New York Times called it “such an eccentric, fascinating exposé of a world most of us know nothing about that his inability to prove his central thesis seems almost irrelevant.” Since graduating from Princeton, his brother Jonathan has published three well-regarded books, starting at age 25: “Everything Is Illuminated,” “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (both literary novels that became movies) and “Eating Animals” (a personal exposé of factory farming). He also has an experimental streak, taking on projects like a libretto and a rethinking of the Passover Haggadah. It would be enough, as the Haggadah says, if there were only two wildly accomplished Foer brothers, but there’s a third one. Soon after graduating from Yale, Joshua Foer wrote an article for Slate about the USA Memory Championship, prompting a book proposal, a bidding war, a reported advance of $1.25 million, a movie deal and the raw resentment of Web sites like Gawker. As part of his research, Joshua Foer entered and trained for the USA Memory Championship, and — you already know this — won. The book, “Moonwalking With Einstein,” was an instant sensation, which, considering the author’s heritage, is a bit of an anticlimax.

Need to know what's trendy now and how to flatter your body? These expert tips and tricks will help you put your best outfit forward!

FRANKLIN FOER’S latest book is a giant game of Jewish geography. An almost indecent number of the 50 writers he and his co-editor, Marc Tracy, recruited to write profiles for “Jewish Jocks: An Unorthodox Hall of Fame” are friends and sometime colleagues. And the panel discussion held recently at the Union Square Barnes & Noble, just a few hundred feet from where Emma Goldman once roused crowds in Yiddish, felt kind of like a bar mitzvah. The Collection: A New Fashion App for the iPad A one-stop destination for Times fashion coverage and the latest from the runways. Download It From the App Store Follow Us on Twitter Follow @NYTimesfashion for fashion, beauty and lifestyle news and headlines. David Remnick was kibitzing, and his Cosell imitation killed. Mr. Tracy got a big laugh simply by saying of a fabled Jewish basketball team, the Dizzy Izzies, “They were very short, because you know.” A sampling of the names that appear in “Jewish Jocks”: Bimstein, Rothstein, Epstein, Goldstein, two Goldbergs, two Greenbergs, Berkovic, Remnick, Lithwick, Leibovich, Lieberman, Leibovitz, Arnovitz, Shulevitz, Spitz, Plotz. Surprisingly, only two of the book’s writers are named Jonathan, one of them Mr. Foer’s younger brother Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote a profile of the mentally disturbed chess player Bobby Fischer (the book defines “jock” very liberally) and who sat beside his brother at Barnes & Noble, in a beard that was beyond rabbinical, approaching Unabomber. When Franklin Foer, 37 and bespectacled, is not engaging in tribal celebrations, he works a day job as the editor of The New Republic — a role that looks considerably sunnier than it did his first time around. Like the past New Republic editors Michael Kinsley and Hendrik Hertzberg, Mr. Foer has left, then returned to this position. During Mr. Foer’s initial stint as editor, from 2006 to 2010, he worked under three different owners. The magazine’s circulation had declined by almost 40 percent in the previous four years, and he had to contend with budget cuts and a boss widely viewed as difficult (Martin Peretz, who bought The New Republic in 1974). Mr. Foer called it a “preservation mission.” “But it’s a whole new world now,” Mr. Foer said. As of March, the controlling owner is Chris Hughes, a baby-faced Facebook co-founder who made his first zillion at 23, directed the 2008 Obama campaign’s social media operation, and is now injecting real money and ambition into The New Republic, hoping to propel it from the ranks of little magazines to compete with titles like The New Yorker and New York. (Mr. Hughes, a New Yorker, has opened and populated an office in the Flatiron district and promised a more pronounced New York voice, though the headquarters remain in Washington.) One of his first acts as publisher and editor in chief was to rehire Mr. Foer, and together they’ve undertaken a makeover that will culminate in a rebirth of the magazine and its Web and mobile components in late January. Mr. Foer’s Washington office exhibits a distinct secular-Jewish sensibility, if a less borscht belt-y one than he shows in “Jewish Jocks.” When Louis Brandeis was nominated to be the first Jewish Supreme Court justice, in 1916, the Boston Brahmin establishment tried “to do him in,” Mr. Foer said. “So the magazine put together this diagram showing how all the people who were campaigning against Brandeis were interconnected by their clubs and their set of very WASPy incestuous relationships.” Despite the editor’s entreaties, The New Republic’s owner caved to social pressures and spiked it. The diagram and a pleading letter from the editor to the owner, both now framed, hang on Mr. Foer’s wall. Brandeis, an anti-monopolist and crusader for social justice, figures prominently in the book that Mr. Foer has been working on, a history of liberalism. Brandeis is also a great hero to Mr. Foer’s father, Albert Foer, a Brandeis graduate who in 1998 founded the American Antitrust Institute, a nonprofit that advocates for vigorous anti-monopoly enforcement. “My father orchestrated dinnertime discussions about politics, ethics and the world,” Mr. Foer said. But he also taught his sons “how to tease and be teased.” Today, around the dinner table at his Cleveland Park house with his wife, Abby Greensfelder, a television producer, and their two young daughters, he said, “I still put him on speaker phone at dinnertime so that I can lean on him to answer my kids’ most challenging questions.” Mr. Foer’s mother, Esther Safran Foer, spent her career as a publicist, but since 2007 she has thrown herself into transforming the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, in Washington’s Chinatown, into what he called “a 92nd Street Y for D.C.” While both of his parents claimed their true callings late in life, their sons have distinguished themselves by their early achievements. Mr. Foer, who attended Columbia, first became editor of The New Republic at age 31. Besides “Jewish Jocks,” he has written “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” A review in The New York Times called it “such an eccentric, fascinating exposé of a world most of us know nothing about that his inability to prove his central thesis seems almost irrelevant.” Since graduating from Princeton, his brother Jonathan has published three well-regarded books, starting at age 25: “Everything Is Illuminated,” “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (both literary novels that became movies) and “Eating Animals” (a personal exposé of factory farming). He also has an experimental streak, taking on projects like a libretto and a rethinking of the Passover Haggadah. It would be enough, as the Haggadah says, if there were only two wildly accomplished Foer brothers, but there’s a third one. Soon after graduating from Yale, Joshua Foer wrote an article for Slate about the USA Memory Championship, prompting a book proposal, a bidding war, a reported advance of $1.25 million, a movie deal and the raw resentment of Web sites like Gawker. As part of his research, Joshua Foer entered and trained for the USA Memory Championship, and — you already know this — won. The book, “Moonwalking With Einstein,” was an instant sensation, which, considering the author’s heritage, is a bit of an anticlimax.

Need to know what's trendy now and how to flatter your body? These expert tips and tricks will help you put your best outfit forward!

FRANKLIN FOER’S latest book is a giant game of Jewish geography. An almost indecent number of the 50 writers he and his co-editor, Marc Tracy, recruited to write profiles for “Jewish Jocks: An Unorthodox Hall of Fame” are friends and sometime colleagues. And the panel discussion held recently at the Union Square Barnes & Noble, just a few hundred feet from where Emma Goldman once roused crowds in Yiddish, felt kind of like a bar mitzvah. The Collection: A New Fashion App for the iPad A one-stop destination for Times fashion coverage and the latest from the runways. Download It From the App Store Follow Us on Twitter Follow @NYTimesfashion for fashion, beauty and lifestyle news and headlines. David Remnick was kibitzing, and his Cosell imitation killed. Mr. Tracy got a big laugh simply by saying of a fabled Jewish basketball team, the Dizzy Izzies, “They were very short, because you know.” A sampling of the names that appear in “Jewish Jocks”: Bimstein, Rothstein, Epstein, Goldstein, two Goldbergs, two Greenbergs, Berkovic, Remnick, Lithwick, Leibovich, Lieberman, Leibovitz, Arnovitz, Shulevitz, Spitz, Plotz. Surprisingly, only two of the book’s writers are named Jonathan, one of them Mr. Foer’s younger brother Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote a profile of the mentally disturbed chess player Bobby Fischer (the book defines “jock” very liberally) and who sat beside his brother at Barnes & Noble, in a beard that was beyond rabbinical, approaching Unabomber. When Franklin Foer, 37 and bespectacled, is not engaging in tribal celebrations, he works a day job as the editor of The New Republic — a role that looks considerably sunnier than it did his first time around. Like the past New Republic editors Michael Kinsley and Hendrik Hertzberg, Mr. Foer has left, then returned to this position. During Mr. Foer’s initial stint as editor, from 2006 to 2010, he worked under three different owners. The magazine’s circulation had declined by almost 40 percent in the previous four years, and he had to contend with budget cuts and a boss widely viewed as difficult (Martin Peretz, who bought The New Republic in 1974). Mr. Foer called it a “preservation mission.” “But it’s a whole new world now,” Mr. Foer said. As of March, the controlling owner is Chris Hughes, a baby-faced Facebook co-founder who made his first zillion at 23, directed the 2008 Obama campaign’s social media operation, and is now injecting real money and ambition into The New Republic, hoping to propel it from the ranks of little magazines to compete with titles like The New Yorker and New York. (Mr. Hughes, a New Yorker, has opened and populated an office in the Flatiron district and promised a more pronounced New York voice, though the headquarters remain in Washington.) One of his first acts as publisher and editor in chief was to rehire Mr. Foer, and together they’ve undertaken a makeover that will culminate in a rebirth of the magazine and its Web and mobile components in late January. Mr. Foer’s Washington office exhibits a distinct secular-Jewish sensibility, if a less borscht belt-y one than he shows in “Jewish Jocks.” When Louis Brandeis was nominated to be the first Jewish Supreme Court justice, in 1916, the Boston Brahmin establishment tried “to do him in,” Mr. Foer said. “So the magazine put together this diagram showing how all the people who were campaigning against Brandeis were interconnected by their clubs and their set of very WASPy incestuous relationships.” Despite the editor’s entreaties, The New Republic’s owner caved to social pressures and spiked it. The diagram and a pleading letter from the editor to the owner, both now framed, hang on Mr. Foer’s wall. Brandeis, an anti-monopolist and crusader for social justice, figures prominently in the book that Mr. Foer has been working on, a history of liberalism. Brandeis is also a great hero to Mr. Foer’s father, Albert Foer, a Brandeis graduate who in 1998 founded the American Antitrust Institute, a nonprofit that advocates for vigorous anti-monopoly enforcement. “My father orchestrated dinnertime discussions about politics, ethics and the world,” Mr. Foer said. But he also taught his sons “how to tease and be teased.” Today, around the dinner table at his Cleveland Park house with his wife, Abby Greensfelder, a television producer, and their two young daughters, he said, “I still put him on speaker phone at dinnertime so that I can lean on him to answer my kids’ most challenging questions.” Mr. Foer’s mother, Esther Safran Foer, spent her career as a publicist, but since 2007 she has thrown herself into transforming the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, in Washington’s Chinatown, into what he called “a 92nd Street Y for D.C.” While both of his parents claimed their true callings late in life, their sons have distinguished themselves by their early achievements. Mr. Foer, who attended Columbia, first became editor of The New Republic at age 31. Besides “Jewish Jocks,” he has written “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” A review in The New York Times called it “such an eccentric, fascinating exposé of a world most of us know nothing about that his inability to prove his central thesis seems almost irrelevant.” Since graduating from Princeton, his brother Jonathan has published three well-regarded books, starting at age 25: “Everything Is Illuminated,” “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (both literary novels that became movies) and “Eating Animals” (a personal exposé of factory farming). He also has an experimental streak, taking on projects like a libretto and a rethinking of the Passover Haggadah. It would be enough, as the Haggadah says, if there were only two wildly accomplished Foer brothers, but there’s a third one. Soon after graduating from Yale, Joshua Foer wrote an article for Slate about the USA Memory Championship, prompting a book proposal, a bidding war, a reported advance of $1.25 million, a movie deal and the raw resentment of Web sites like Gawker. As part of his research, Joshua Foer entered and trained for the USA Memory Championship, and — you already know this — won. The book, “Moonwalking With Einstein,” was an instant sensation, which, considering the author’s heritage, is a bit of an anticlimax.

Need to know what's trendy now and how to flatter your body? These expert tips and tricks will help you put your best outfit forward!

FRANKLIN FOER’S latest book is a giant game of Jewish geography. An almost indecent number of the 50 writers he and his co-editor, Marc Tracy, recruited to write profiles for “Jewish Jocks: An Unorthodox Hall of Fame” are friends and sometime colleagues. And the panel discussion held recently at the Union Square Barnes & Noble, just a few hundred feet from where Emma Goldman once roused crowds in Yiddish, felt kind of like a bar mitzvah. The Collection: A New Fashion App for the iPad A one-stop destination for Times fashion coverage and the latest from the runways. Download It From the App Store Follow Us on Twitter Follow @NYTimesfashion for fashion, beauty and lifestyle news and headlines. David Remnick was kibitzing, and his Cosell imitation killed. Mr. Tracy got a big laugh simply by saying of a fabled Jewish basketball team, the Dizzy Izzies, “They were very short, because you know.” A sampling of the names that appear in “Jewish Jocks”: Bimstein, Rothstein, Epstein, Goldstein, two Goldbergs, two Greenbergs, Berkovic, Remnick, Lithwick, Leibovich, Lieberman, Leibovitz, Arnovitz, Shulevitz, Spitz, Plotz. Surprisingly, only two of the book’s writers are named Jonathan, one of them Mr. Foer’s younger brother Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote a profile of the mentally disturbed chess player Bobby Fischer (the book defines “jock” very liberally) and who sat beside his brother at Barnes & Noble, in a beard that was beyond rabbinical, approaching Unabomber. When Franklin Foer, 37 and bespectacled, is not engaging in tribal celebrations, he works a day job as the editor of The New Republic — a role that looks considerably sunnier than it did his first time around. Like the past New Republic editors Michael Kinsley and Hendrik Hertzberg, Mr. Foer has left, then returned to this position. During Mr. Foer’s initial stint as editor, from 2006 to 2010, he worked under three different owners. The magazine’s circulation had declined by almost 40 percent in the previous four years, and he had to contend with budget cuts and a boss widely viewed as difficult (Martin Peretz, who bought The New Republic in 1974). Mr. Foer called it a “preservation mission.” “But it’s a whole new world now,” Mr. Foer said. As of March, the controlling owner is Chris Hughes, a baby-faced Facebook co-founder who made his first zillion at 23, directed the 2008 Obama campaign’s social media operation, and is now injecting real money and ambition into The New Republic, hoping to propel it from the ranks of little magazines to compete with titles like The New Yorker and New York. (Mr. Hughes, a New Yorker, has opened and populated an office in the Flatiron district and promised a more pronounced New York voice, though the headquarters remain in Washington.) One of his first acts as publisher and editor in chief was to rehire Mr. Foer, and together they’ve undertaken a makeover that will culminate in a rebirth of the magazine and its Web and mobile components in late January. Mr. Foer’s Washington office exhibits a distinct secular-Jewish sensibility, if a less borscht belt-y one than he shows in “Jewish Jocks.” When Louis Brandeis was nominated to be the first Jewish Supreme Court justice, in 1916, the Boston Brahmin establishment tried “to do him in,” Mr. Foer said. “So the magazine put together this diagram showing how all the people who were campaigning against Brandeis were interconnected by their clubs and their set of very WASPy incestuous relationships.” Despite the editor’s entreaties, The New Republic’s owner caved to social pressures and spiked it. The diagram and a pleading letter from the editor to the owner, both now framed, hang on Mr. Foer’s wall. Brandeis, an anti-monopolist and crusader for social justice, figures prominently in the book that Mr. Foer has been working on, a history of liberalism. Brandeis is also a great hero to Mr. Foer’s father, Albert Foer, a Brandeis graduate who in 1998 founded the American Antitrust Institute, a nonprofit that advocates for vigorous anti-monopoly enforcement. “My father orchestrated dinnertime discussions about politics, ethics and the world,” Mr. Foer said. But he also taught his sons “how to tease and be teased.” Today, around the dinner table at his Cleveland Park house with his wife, Abby Greensfelder, a television producer, and their two young daughters, he said, “I still put him on speaker phone at dinnertime so that I can lean on him to answer my kids’ most challenging questions.” Mr. Foer’s mother, Esther Safran Foer, spent her career as a publicist, but since 2007 she has thrown herself into transforming the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, in Washington’s Chinatown, into what he called “a 92nd Street Y for D.C.” While both of his parents claimed their true callings late in life, their sons have distinguished themselves by their early achievements. Mr. Foer, who attended Columbia, first became editor of The New Republic at age 31. Besides “Jewish Jocks,” he has written “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” A review in The New York Times called it “such an eccentric, fascinating exposé of a world most of us know nothing about that his inability to prove his central thesis seems almost irrelevant.” Since graduating from Princeton, his brother Jonathan has published three well-regarded books, starting at age 25: “Everything Is Illuminated,” “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (both literary novels that became movies) and “Eating Animals” (a personal exposé of factory farming). He also has an experimental streak, taking on projects like a libretto and a rethinking of the Passover Haggadah. It would be enough, as the Haggadah says, if there were only two wildly accomplished Foer brothers, but there’s a third one. Soon after graduating from Yale, Joshua Foer wrote an article for Slate about the USA Memory Championship, prompting a book proposal, a bidding war, a reported advance of $1.25 million, a movie deal and the raw resentment of Web sites like Gawker. As part of his research, Joshua Foer entered and trained for the USA Memory Championship, and — you already know this — won. The book, “Moonwalking With Einstein,” was an instant sensation, which, considering the author’s heritage, is a bit of an anticlimax.

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Describing the View From the Sideline

FRANKLIN FOER’S latest book is a giant game of Jewish geography. An almost indecent number of the 50 writers he and his co-editor, Marc Tracy, recruited to write profiles for “Jewish Jocks: An Unorthodox Hall of Fame” are friends and sometime colleagues. And the panel discussion held recently at the Union Square Barnes & Noble, just a few hundred feet from where Emma Goldman once roused crowds in Yiddish, felt kind of like a bar mitzvah. The Collection: A New Fashion App for the iPad A one-stop destination for Times fashion coverage and the latest from the runways. Download It From the App Store Follow Us on Twitter Follow @NYTimesfashion for fashion, beauty and lifestyle news and headlines. David Remnick was kibitzing, and his Cosell imitation killed. Mr. Tracy got a big laugh simply by saying of a fabled Jewish basketball team, the Dizzy Izzies, “They were very short, because you know.” A sampling of the names that appear in “Jewish Jocks”: Bimstein, Rothstein, Epstein, Goldstein, two Goldbergs, two Greenbergs, Berkovic, Remnick, Lithwick, Leibovich, Lieberman, Leibovitz, Arnovitz, Shulevitz, Spitz, Plotz. Surprisingly, only two of the book’s writers are named Jonathan, one of them Mr. Foer’s younger brother Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote a profile of the mentally disturbed chess player Bobby Fischer (the book defines “jock” very liberally) and who sat beside his brother at Barnes & Noble, in a beard that was beyond rabbinical, approaching Unabomber. When Franklin Foer, 37 and bespectacled, is not engaging in tribal celebrations, he works a day job as the editor of The New Republic — a role that looks considerably sunnier than it did his first time around. Like the past New Republic editors Michael Kinsley and Hendrik Hertzberg, Mr. Foer has left, then returned to this position. During Mr. Foer’s initial stint as editor, from 2006 to 2010, he worked under three different owners. The magazine’s circulation had declined by almost 40 percent in the previous four years, and he had to contend with budget cuts and a boss widely viewed as difficult (Martin Peretz, who bought The New Republic in 1974). Mr. Foer called it a “preservation mission.” “But it’s a whole new world now,” Mr. Foer said. As of March, the controlling owner is Chris Hughes, a baby-faced Facebook co-founder who made his first zillion at 23, directed the 2008 Obama campaign’s social media operation, and is now injecting real money and ambition into The New Republic, hoping to propel it from the ranks of little magazines to compete with titles like The New Yorker and New York. (Mr. Hughes, a New Yorker, has opened and populated an office in the Flatiron district and promised a more pronounced New York voice, though the headquarters remain in Washington.) One of his first acts as publisher and editor in chief was to rehire Mr. Foer, and together they’ve undertaken a makeover that will culminate in a rebirth of the magazine and its Web and mobile components in late January. Mr. Foer’s Washington office exhibits a distinct secular-Jewish sensibility, if a less borscht belt-y one than he shows in “Jewish Jocks.” When Louis Brandeis was nominated to be the first Jewish Supreme Court justice, in 1916, the Boston Brahmin establishment tried “to do him in,” Mr. Foer said. “So the magazine put together this diagram showing how all the people who were campaigning against Brandeis were interconnected by their clubs and their set of very WASPy incestuous relationships.” Despite the editor’s entreaties, The New Republic’s owner caved to social pressures and spiked it. The diagram and a pleading letter from the editor to the owner, both now framed, hang on Mr. Foer’s wall. Brandeis, an anti-monopolist and crusader for social justice, figures prominently in the book that Mr. Foer has been working on, a history of liberalism. Brandeis is also a great hero to Mr. Foer’s father, Albert Foer, a Brandeis graduate who in 1998 founded the American Antitrust Institute, a nonprofit that advocates for vigorous anti-monopoly enforcement. “My father orchestrated dinnertime discussions about politics, ethics and the world,” Mr. Foer said. But he also taught his sons “how to tease and be teased.” Today, around the dinner table at his Cleveland Park house with his wife, Abby Greensfelder, a television producer, and their two young daughters, he said, “I still put him on speaker phone at dinnertime so that I can lean on him to answer my kids’ most challenging questions.” Mr. Foer’s mother, Esther Safran Foer, spent her career as a publicist, but since 2007 she has thrown herself into transforming the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, in Washington’s Chinatown, into what he called “a 92nd Street Y for D.C.” While both of his parents claimed their true callings late in life, their sons have distinguished themselves by their early achievements. Mr. Foer, who attended Columbia, first became editor of The New Republic at age 31. Besides “Jewish Jocks,” he has written “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” A review in The New York Times called it “such an eccentric, fascinating exposé of a world most of us know nothing about that his inability to prove his central thesis seems almost irrelevant.” Since graduating from Princeton, his brother Jonathan has published three well-regarded books, starting at age 25: “Everything Is Illuminated,” “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (both literary novels that became movies) and “Eating Animals” (a personal exposé of factory farming). He also has an experimental streak, taking on projects like a libretto and a rethinking of the Passover Haggadah. It would be enough, as the Haggadah says, if there were only two wildly accomplished Foer brothers, but there’s a third one. Soon after graduating from Yale, Joshua Foer wrote an article for Slate about the USA Memory Championship, prompting a book proposal, a bidding war, a reported advance of $1.25 million, a movie deal and the raw resentment of Web sites like Gawker. As part of his research, Joshua Foer entered and trained for the USA Memory Championship, and — you already know this — won. The book, “Moonwalking With Einstein,” was an instant sensation, which, considering the author’s heritage, is a bit of an anticlimax.

Describing the View From the Sideline

FRANKLIN FOER’S latest book is a giant game of Jewish geography. An almost indecent number of the 50 writers he and his co-editor, Marc Tracy, recruited to write profiles for “Jewish Jocks: An Unorthodox Hall of Fame” are friends and sometime colleagues. And the panel discussion held recently at the Union Square Barnes & Noble, just a few hundred feet from where Emma Goldman once roused crowds in Yiddish, felt kind of like a bar mitzvah. The Collection: A New Fashion App for the iPad A one-stop destination for Times fashion coverage and the latest from the runways. Download It From the App Store Follow Us on Twitter Follow @NYTimesfashion for fashion, beauty and lifestyle news and headlines. David Remnick was kibitzing, and his Cosell imitation killed. Mr. Tracy got a big laugh simply by saying of a fabled Jewish basketball team, the Dizzy Izzies, “They were very short, because you know.” A sampling of the names that appear in “Jewish Jocks”: Bimstein, Rothstein, Epstein, Goldstein, two Goldbergs, two Greenbergs, Berkovic, Remnick, Lithwick, Leibovich, Lieberman, Leibovitz, Arnovitz, Shulevitz, Spitz, Plotz. Surprisingly, only two of the book’s writers are named Jonathan, one of them Mr. Foer’s younger brother Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote a profile of the mentally disturbed chess player Bobby Fischer (the book defines “jock” very liberally) and who sat beside his brother at Barnes & Noble, in a beard that was beyond rabbinical, approaching Unabomber. When Franklin Foer, 37 and bespectacled, is not engaging in tribal celebrations, he works a day job as the editor of The New Republic — a role that looks considerably sunnier than it did his first time around. Like the past New Republic editors Michael Kinsley and Hendrik Hertzberg, Mr. Foer has left, then returned to this position. During Mr. Foer’s initial stint as editor, from 2006 to 2010, he worked under three different owners. The magazine’s circulation had declined by almost 40 percent in the previous four years, and he had to contend with budget cuts and a boss widely viewed as difficult (Martin Peretz, who bought The New Republic in 1974). Mr. Foer called it a “preservation mission.” “But it’s a whole new world now,” Mr. Foer said. As of March, the controlling owner is Chris Hughes, a baby-faced Facebook co-founder who made his first zillion at 23, directed the 2008 Obama campaign’s social media operation, and is now injecting real money and ambition into The New Republic, hoping to propel it from the ranks of little magazines to compete with titles like The New Yorker and New York. (Mr. Hughes, a New Yorker, has opened and populated an office in the Flatiron district and promised a more pronounced New York voice, though the headquarters remain in Washington.) One of his first acts as publisher and editor in chief was to rehire Mr. Foer, and together they’ve undertaken a makeover that will culminate in a rebirth of the magazine and its Web and mobile components in late January. Mr. Foer’s Washington office exhibits a distinct secular-Jewish sensibility, if a less borscht belt-y one than he shows in “Jewish Jocks.” When Louis Brandeis was nominated to be the first Jewish Supreme Court justice, in 1916, the Boston Brahmin establishment tried “to do him in,” Mr. Foer said. “So the magazine put together this diagram showing how all the people who were campaigning against Brandeis were interconnected by their clubs and their set of very WASPy incestuous relationships.” Despite the editor’s entreaties, The New Republic’s owner caved to social pressures and spiked it. The diagram and a pleading letter from the editor to the owner, both now framed, hang on Mr. Foer’s wall. Brandeis, an anti-monopolist and crusader for social justice, figures prominently in the book that Mr. Foer has been working on, a history of liberalism. Brandeis is also a great hero to Mr. Foer’s father, Albert Foer, a Brandeis graduate who in 1998 founded the American Antitrust Institute, a nonprofit that advocates for vigorous anti-monopoly enforcement. “My father orchestrated dinnertime discussions about politics, ethics and the world,” Mr. Foer said. But he also taught his sons “how to tease and be teased.” Today, around the dinner table at his Cleveland Park house with his wife, Abby Greensfelder, a television producer, and their two young daughters, he said, “I still put him on speaker phone at dinnertime so that I can lean on him to answer my kids’ most challenging questions.” Mr. Foer’s mother, Esther Safran Foer, spent her career as a publicist, but since 2007 she has thrown herself into transforming the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue, in Washington’s Chinatown, into what he called “a 92nd Street Y for D.C.” While both of his parents claimed their true callings late in life, their sons have distinguished themselves by their early achievements. Mr. Foer, who attended Columbia, first became editor of The New Republic at age 31. Besides “Jewish Jocks,” he has written “How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization.” A review in The New York Times called it “such an eccentric, fascinating exposé of a world most of us know nothing about that his inability to prove his central thesis seems almost irrelevant.” Since graduating from Princeton, his brother Jonathan has published three well-regarded books, starting at age 25: “Everything Is Illuminated,” “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” (both literary novels that became movies) and “Eating Animals” (a personal exposé of factory farming). He also has an experimental streak, taking on projects like a libretto and a rethinking of the Passover Haggadah. It would be enough, as the Haggadah says, if there were only two wildly accomplished Foer brothers, but there’s a third one. Soon after graduating from Yale, Joshua Foer wrote an article for Slate about the USA Memory Championship, prompting a book proposal, a bidding war, a reported advance of $1.25 million, a movie deal and the raw resentment of Web sites like Gawker. As part of his research, Joshua Foer entered and trained for the USA Memory Championship, and — you already know this — won. The book, “Moonwalking With Einstein,” was an instant sensation, which, considering the author’s heritage, is a bit of an anticlimax.

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Greenpeace has released a series of images to highlight what it calls the toxic truth behind the glamour of the fashion industry. Shot on location in the heart of China's textile industry, on the the bank of Qiantang River, in Xiaoshan district, Hangzhou, the images show the scale of the toxic water pollution that currently occurs in order to supply a global market

Greenpeace has released a series of images to highlight what it calls the toxic truth behind the glamour of the fashion industry. Shot on location in the heart of China's textile industry, on the the bank of Qiantang River, in Xiaoshan district, Hangzhou, the images show the scale of the toxic water pollution that currently occurs in order to supply a global market

Toxic threads: Greenpeace puts fashion pollution on parade - in pictures

Toxic threads: Greenpeace puts fashion pollution on parade - in pictures

A new investigation by Greenpeace International has found a wide range of hazardous substances in the effluent of communal wastewater treatment plants in the Binhai and Linjiang industrial zones of Zhejiang province, China, as well as in a nearby river following a pollution accident. Textile manufacturing facilities within these zones supply many different companies, including international clothing brands, but identifying whether individual suppliers are releasing hazardous substances is almost impossible

Clothing fashions

Early Western travelers, whether to Persia, Turkey, India, or China frequently remark on the absence of changes in fashion there, and observers from these other cultures comment on the unseemly pace of Western fashion, which many felt suggested an instability and lack of order in Western culture. The Japanese Shogun's secretary boasted (not completely accurately) to a Spanish visitor in 1609 that Japanese clothing had not changed in over a thousand years.^[4] However in Ming China, for example, there is considerable evidence for rapidly changing fashions in Chinese clothing.^[5] Changes in costume often took place at times of economic or social change (such as in ancient Rome and the medieval Caliphate), but then a long period without major changes followed. This occurred in Moorish Spain from the 8th century, when the famous musician Ziryab introduced sophisticated clothing-styles based on seasonal and daily fashion from his native Baghdad and his own inspiration to Córdoba in Al-Andalus.^[6][7] Similar changes in fashion occurred in the Middle East from the 11th century, following the arrival of the Turks, who introduced clothing styles from Central Asia and the Far East.^[8]

Clothing fashions

Early Western travelers, whether to Persia, Turkey, India, or China frequently remark on the absence of changes in fashion there, and observers from these other cultures comment on the unseemly pace of Western fashion, which many felt suggested an instability and lack of order in Western culture. The Japanese Shogun's secretary boasted (not completely accurately) to a Spanish visitor in 1609 that Japanese clothing had not changed in over a thousand years.^[4] However in Ming China, for example, there is considerable evidence for rapidly changing fashions in Chinese clothing.^[5] Changes in costume often took place at times of economic or social change (such as in ancient Rome and the medieval Caliphate), but then a long period without major changes followed. This occurred in Moorish Spain from the 8th century, when the famous musician Ziryab introduced sophisticated clothing-styles based on seasonal and daily fashion from his native Baghdad and his own inspiration to Córdoba in Al-Andalus.^[6][7] Similar changes in fashion occurred in the Middle East from the 11th century, following the arrival of the Turks, who introduced clothing styles from Central Asia and the Far East.^[8]

Clothing fashions

Early Western travelers, whether to Persia, Turkey, India, or China frequently remark on the absence of changes in fashion there, and observers from these other cultures comment on the unseemly pace of Western fashion, which many felt suggested an instability and lack of order in Western culture. The Japanese Shogun's secretary boasted (not completely accurately) to a Spanish visitor in 1609 that Japanese clothing had not changed in over a thousand years.^[4] However in Ming China, for example, there is considerable evidence for rapidly changing fashions in Chinese clothing.^[5] Changes in costume often took place at times of economic or social change (such as in ancient Rome and the medieval Caliphate), but then a long period without major changes followed. This occurred in Moorish Spain from the 8th century, when the famous musician Ziryab introduced sophisticated clothing-styles based on seasonal and daily fashion from his native Baghdad and his own inspiration to Córdoba in Al-Andalus.^[6][7] Similar changes in fashion occurred in the Middle East from the 11th century, following the arrival of the Turks, who introduced clothing styles from Central Asia and the Far East.^[8]
The beginnings of the habit in Europe of continual and increasingly rapid change in clothing styles can be fairly reliably dated to the middle of the 14th century, to which historians including James Laver and Fernand Braudel date the start of Western fashion in clothing.^[9][10] The most dramatic manifestation was a sudden drastic shortening and tightening of the male over-garment, from calf-length to barely covering the buttocks, sometimes accompanied with stuffing on the chest to look bigger. This created the distinctive Western male outline of a tailored top worn over leggings or trousers.
The pace of change accelerated considerably in the following century, and women and men's fashion, especially in the dressing and adorning of the hair, became equally complex and changing. Art historians are therefore able to use fashion in dating images with increasing confidence and precision, often within five years in the case of 15th century images. Initially changes in fashion led to a fragmentation of what had previously been very similar styles of dressing across the upper classes of Europe, and the development of distinctive national styles. These remained very different until a counter-movement in the 17th to 18th centuries imposed similar styles once again, mostly originating from Ancien Régime France.^[11] Though the rich usually led fashion, the increasing affluence of early modern Europe led to the bourgeoisie and even peasants following trends at a distance sometimes uncomfortably close for the elites—a factor Braudel regards as one of the main motors of changing fashion.^[12]

Albrecht Dürer's drawing contrasts a well turned out bourgeoise from Nuremberg (left) with her counterpart from Venice. The Venetian lady's high chopines make her look taller.

Ten 16th century portraits of German or Italian gentlemen may show ten entirely different hats, and at this period national differences were at their most pronounced, as Albrecht Dürer recorded in his actual or composite contrast of Nuremberg and Venetian fashions at the close of the 15th century (illustration, right). The "Spanish style" of the end of the century began the move back to synchronicity among upper-class Europeans, and after a struggle in the mid 17th century, French styles decisively took over leadership, a process completed in the 18th century.^[13]
Though colors and patterns of textiles changed from year to year,^[14] the cut of a gentleman's coat and the length of his waistcoat, or the pattern to which a lady's dress was cut changed more slowly. Men's fashions largely derived from military models, and changes in a European male silhouette are galvanized in theatres of European war, where gentleman officers had opportunities to make notes of foreign styles: an example is the "Steinkirk" cravat or necktie.

Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI, leader of fashion

The pace of change picked up in the 1780s with the increased publication of French engravings that showed the latest Paris styles; though there had been distribution of dressed dolls from France as patterns since the 16th century, and Abraham Bosse had produced engravings of fashion from the 1620s. By 1800, all Western Europeans were dressing alike (or thought they were): local variation became first a sign of provincial culture, and then a badge of the conservative peasant.^[15]
Although tailors and dressmakers were no doubt responsible for many innovations before, and the textile industry certainly led many trends, the history of fashion design is normally taken to date from 1858, when the English-born Charles Frederick Worth opened the first true haute couture house in Paris. The Haute house was the name established by government for the fashion houses that met the standards of industry. They have to adhere to standards such as: keeping at least 20 employees engaged in making the clothes, showing two collections per year at fashion shows, and presenting a certain number of patterns to costumers.^[16] Since then the professional designer has become a progressively more dominant figure, despite the origins of many fashions in street fashion. For women the flapper styles of the 1920s marked the most major alteration in styles for several centuries, with a drastic shortening of skirt lengths, and much looser-fitting clothes; with occasional revivals of long skirts, variations of the shorter length have remained dominant ever since. Flappers also wore cloches, which were snug fitting and covered the forehead. Her shoes had a heel and some sort of buckle. The most important part was the jewelry, such as: earrings and necklaces that had diamonds or gems. The flapper gave a particular image as being seductive due to her short length dress, which was form fitting, and the large amounts of rich jewelery around her neck.
The four major current fashion capitals are acknowledged to be Paris, Milan, New York City, and London, which are all headquarters to the greatest fashion companies and are renowned for their major influence on global fashion. Fashion weeks are held in these cities, where designers exhibit their new clothing collections to audiences. A succession of major designers such as Coco Chanel and Yves Saint-Laurent have kept Paris as the centre most watched by the rest of the world, although haute couture is now subsidised by the sale of ready to wear collections and perfume using the same branding.
Modern Westerners have a wide number of choices available in the selection of their clothes. What a person chooses to wear can reflect that person's personality or interests. When people who have cultural status start to wear new or different clothes, a fashion trend may start. People who like or respect them may start to wear clothes of a similar style.
Fashions may vary considerably within a society according to age, social class, generation, occupation, and geography as well as over time. Jace. You and your silly peacoat. So /fa/. You know what's fashionable? Ken Park. Does that even make sense? Can movies be fashionable? Maybe we should check. If, for example, an older person dresses according to the fashion of young people, he or she may look ridiculous in the eyes of both young and older people. The terms fashionista and fashion victim refer to someone who slavishly follows current fashions.
One can regard the system of sporting various fashions as a fashion language incorporating various fashion statements using a grammar of fashion. (Compare some of the work of Roland Barthes.)
In recent years, Asian fashion has become increasingly significant in local and global markets. Countries such as China, Japan, India, and Pakistan have traditionally had large textile industries, which have often been drawn upon by Western designers, but now Asian clothing styles are also gaining influence based on their own ideas