Fashion generally only interests me by the time it gets to a museum, as was the case with 90s It Boy Isaac Mizrahi. Somehow, I missed Unzipped even though the documentary was directed by Mizrahi's first serious boyfriend, the man behind the incomparable Madonna: Truth or Dare. But when I finally encountered the designer's retrospective at the Jewish Museum in 2016, I thrilled to his idiosyncratic use of color, creativity and costume.
I certainly didn't thrill to IM, his less-than-dishy memoir. On the one hand, it's an undeniably well-written account of his fascinating career, with early stints at both Perry Ellis and Calvin Klein, and oh-so-discreet descriptions of his interactions with divas, including Liza and Audrey. On the other, it's also a narcissistic catalog of his neuroses, insecurity and insomnia with too many pages devoted to his childhood and endless attacks on the insular culture that spawned him. Did Mizrahi ever have any fun? No wonder Stephen Sondheim "ex-communicated" him. Get over yourself, honey!
Even more disturbing, his faith in the occult led him to abandon the unique talent so clearly evident at the Jewish Museum for a less than stellar stint in show biz. The book ends with the fulfillment Mizrahi derives from performing his cabaret show, admittedly a lot less taxing than producing a clothing line. Instead of the Syrian Jews who clapped for his garage puppet shows and impersonations of Barbra, he now basks in the applause of a sophisticated audience at the Cafe Carlyle.
I guess he just couldn't cut it in the real world. What a loss.
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