By Charlotte Cebula

Cover image by Charlie Deichman-Caswell

If you, like me, keep up with fashion events worldwide, you may be familiar with the concept of car manufacturers partnering with clothing brands and sponsoring luxury fashion exhibitions. These partnerships may seem like another means of making money (well, they are) but they also foster a connection between the car industry and the clothing industry, a connection that not only makes sense, but also broadens the definition of fashion itself. Perhaps you have seen partnerships such as the Vespa Dior partnership, the Fiat 500 Gucci, and the Bugatti Hermès which showcase how two somewhat unrelated brands can work together to promote their products. I am fascinated by cars, in particular, the way that cars are at the crossroads of engineering and design, and was fortunate enough to intern at the advertising agency for a major manufacturer. This experience showed me how cars occupy a unique place in the psyche of American consumers and that good advertising can create subconscious associations between certain brands and lifestyle aspirations.

Vespa 946 Christian Dior & Bugatti Chiron Hermès Edition. Images sourced from Vogue France & Bugatti Newsroom.

Let’s look at a case study: Genesis Motors as the presenting sponsor for Vogue World London 2023. This past fall, Genesis showcased its products, but most importantly, its brand identity at Vogue World London. Genesis markets itself with the slogan “Athletic Elegance” and has sponsored a series of fashion events across the globe. Driving around Middlebury, you are unlikely to see a single Genesis. It is a relatively new independent brand, launching in 2015 and dropping its first model, the Genesis G90 in 2017. You likely know its parent company, Hyundai, which produces more affordable vehicles. Genesis launched in a difficult time and within an oversaturated market. The pandemic hit within five years of the launch, so supply chain issues coupled with a global economic downturn made it difficult to impress consumers. Additionally, it is nearly impossible to break into the luxury vehicle market. At that price point, consumers are buying cars for speed, elegance, and, most importantly, brand name. Whether we like it or not, luxury cars are an emulation of a certain lifestyle, not necessarily the most impressive engineering. Genesis, however, is somewhat different. The leather used in the interior is of the finest quality and the engine is strong and reliable (plus, they have electric models!) Genesis is not targeting the average luxury consumer. Buyers are known as disruptors. They look for luxury in the most real sense of the word and appreciate small details over flashy name brands (like the crystal sphere gear shift on the GV60). Genesis is the embodiment of quiet luxury, and its marketing plan aligns with its mission. Partnering with Vogue World associates the brand name with style, elegance, and novelty. According to Claudia Marquez, chief operating officer of Genesis Motor North America, “[Genesis] not only values bold design within our vehicles but celebrates the passion for it within the world of fashion.”

Genesis Motors’ choice to associate itself with the arts solidifies the relationship between culture, fashion, and automobiles. A car is so much more than a means of transportation from point A to point B, it reflects our style and identity. Cars are an extension of the self; they allow us to move freely and express ourselves. Even if you are not buying a new car, you can still express identity through your vehicle. Maybe you love to deck out the back with stickers or hang a toy from the rearview mirror. Whatever choice you make, it is an expression of your creative self.

On campus, it’s nearly impossible to avoid being struck by a forest green or deep red Subaru Outback. After one such close encounter with death, I thought to myself, “why DO people love the Subaru so much? It can’t just be that they drive well in snow and are compatible with a Thule ski rack.” I thought about how when people first see my car, I almost always get the same response: “Your car makes perfect sense.” But what does that mean, exactly? Is it the same way that some people begin to resemble their dogs? Do I resemble my car?

I decided to ask around campus to hear what people had to say about their cars and if they considered cars to be an expression of their personality. According to one friend, “I honestly don’t give a lot of thought into my car…But I guess my car feels sleek and I like having it feel that way on the inside and out - like detailing, no stickers on the outside, etc. I take pride in the fact that my car is neat and clean.” In a way, my friend is just like her car. She is rarely ever disheveled and takes pride in her outfit choices. Her car just makes sense. Another friend of mine offered valuable insight on her red Subaru Outback. Her car was not just hers, it was her community’s. Each time she drove in the car she was reminded of its previous owners and drivers: her older sister, professors, and friends. My friend, much like her car, is deeply connected to the community. She loves to thrift and is often sporting paraphernalia from various community events– regattas, high school events, Middlebury attire, and the cities and towns where she has spent time. She is my outgoing and kind-hearted friend, and I think her closet reflects that. Lastly, another friend drives a blue Honda CR-V. Her car carries inordinate numbers of people and skis around campus, Hannaford, the Snowbowl, and Burlington. There is a Middlebury sticker proudly displayed on the back. My friend does not resemble her car per se, but the way she uses it does. She is generous and sweet and looks drop-dead gorgeous in blue. She even wears a blue gemstone necklace almost every day. She would do anything for her friends and hails from a very proud Middlebury family.

Images by Charlie Deichman-Caswell

By and large, the people I spoke to felt proud of their cars, often giving them silly names or fun decorations. They felt anxious when the cars were dirty or in need of repair, as if a part of their own body was damaged. Many students drove cars passed down to them by parents or siblings, yet found ways to make the car their own; adding bumper stickers to the trunk like a RedBubble Jackson Pollock. If the parking lots at Middlebury are analogous to our closet, Middlebury students are creative, stylish, and thoughtful. As the countless “Middlebury” bumper stickers (including my own) imply, we love our school. Vehicles are not included in the typical definition of fashion, but perhaps they should be.

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