Listen to “Pelf Help” by Mayday [download]

Marc Jacobs is an American designer who has spent the majority of the past decade establishing a reputation for himself as the hippest, most refreshingly unconventional designer around. From his early work with Takashi Murakami for Louis Vuitton, to collaborations with Sofia Coppola, to his distinctive Jurgen Teller-shot ads (which have featured every hipster from Chloe Sevigny to Sonic Youth to Winona Ryder)— Marc Jacobs quickly defined himself as one of the only truly cool designers out there. Tom Ford may have the sex appeal, but the world of Marc Jacobs has been marked by depth and refinement, with an ample shot of youthful playfulness. Jacobs is cool because he understands how Lil’ Kim and Cindy Sherman are far more iconic and relevant than Gisele Bundchen or Heidi Klum.

I used to look up to Marc Jacobs as a gay role model. He’s one of our generation’s most prominent and relevant gay artists, and he (used to) refuse to pander to gay cultural conventions in his personal style or behavior. Finally, I thought— a high-profile gay man who’s self-confident enough to not care about waxing and tanning and looking like the archetypal Chelsea Boy. He was famous for his shaggy, bohemian appearance and oversized, bookish glasses. He looked every bit a Wes Anderson character come to life, and that was kind of groundbreaking for a gay celebrity. Marc Jacobs was untouchable. Everything was going peachy, until the Marc Jacobs we knew and loved vanished, replaced by an awful robotic replica.

At least that’s what I figure happened, because I can’t come up with a more valid explanation for the transformation that Jacobs has undergone this last year. Let’s break it down. Spring 2006: Marc Jacobs is on top of his game. For reference, here’s a flattering 6-page article from New York magazine calling him the “coolest, most influential designer”. He declares that awkward is nice, and triumphs nerdiness over de facto sex appeal. Not long after, Jacobs entered his mid-life crisis. He fell in love with a slick-looking young prostitute named Jason Preston, and quickly mutated into some horrible hybrid of avant-garde cool and West Hollywood cool. You can see the transposition of stomach-churning WeHo aesthetics at work in the side-by-side below:

The worst part about this whole sordid transformation is that in the Perez Hilton-dominated blogosphere, Marc’s new persona was deemed an upgrade. It seemed to be the consensus amongst gay bloggers that Jacobs had finally come to his senses and adopted the culture he was destined for all along. One excited South American commenter wrote, “Jesus Christ!!! How can Marc look even better each day?!? We love him down here, in Brasil!!!”

Then, early this year, Jacobs checked himself into rehab. For a moment, there was hope. Maybe, I thought, they’ll hit him on the head with a frying pan and reverse the traumatic spell that he’s been under lately— this whole thing could be a terrible Meth side effect they don’t warn you about in school! Much to my dismay, Jacobs came out of rehab looking even less recognizable than when he went in. Soon, he was posing on the cover of Out magazine, showing off those gross abdominal lines that every gay porn star/2xist model constantly uses to rape gay culture.

He had his big spring show for the Marc line a couple weeks ago, and it seemed to reflect the schizophrenic schism that must be tearing the designer apart inside. Many of the looks were hybrids of two pieces sewn together down the middle, like some juvenile Project Runway competition. Most of the clothes weren’t even cute on a conceptual level. And I won’t even get into those fucked up heels he made for the Marc Jacobs line. I guess my point here is: Is Marc Jacobs a real life Two-Face, straddling the line between his formerly hip, intelligent self, and the hegemonic West Hollywood world that Jason Preston/meth/mid-life crisis/The Illuminati/Scientology is pulling him towards?! And if so, is there anything that can take him back from that hideous place? Or is Marc Jacobs gone for good?

More radness: