There were cries of surprise - along with a blatant abuse of exclamation points - from the fashion press in Paris this month as Lindsay Lohan debuted her first collection as artistic adviser for Emanuel Ungaro. Rumors swirled that she was paid millions to lend her name to the fashion line. The most recent buzz is that she was paid in clothes. No matter what the payment, before Ungaro, her expertise consisted of designing a line of leggings, lending her name to a self-tanner, and guest judging “Project Runway.’’
She used all that experience to design heart-shaped pasties that were coated in glitter. The pasties were not a hit, nor were the hot pink Barbie dresses. Industry trade publication Women’s Wear Daily advised Lohan to refocus her efforts on her acting career, calling the collection “cheesy and dated.’’ The New York Times compared Lohan’s appointment as artistic adviser at the Parisian label “to a McDonald’s fry cook taking the reins of a three-star Michelin restaurant.’’
Missing from the fallout was the voice of reason. Did anyone expect that this would go well? Given Lohan’s tabloid trajectory and her higgledy-piggledy personal style, there was no logical reason why a chic French label would appoint as artistic adviser a 23-year-old whose last film went direct to cable. But therein lies the lesson behind celebrity clothing lines. These clothes have very little to do with fashion, and everything to do with marketing.
The reviews out of Ungaro may have been as favorable as reviews for “Couples Retreat,’’ but if you follow fashion - and even if you don’t - you probably heard about the Lohan debacle. But now answer honestly, how many of you had heard of Ungaro before Lindsay’s glitter heart pasties? It’s a stroke of genius. Ungaro scored the kind of publicity that only a troubled actress and $100,000 worth of clothes can buy.
Bravo. The problem is that every day another actress (or occasional actor) is threatening that they too will be creating a line of mediocre clothes. A celebrity name is an easy way for a company to find an audience for its garments. It’s like putting an established actor in a milquetoast sitcom (this time we’re looking at you, Kelsey Grammer and Brad Garrett). The product is subpar, but people will at least tune in to see a known quantity sleepwalk their way through a show.
Fashion is slightly different, but the principle is the same. People will look at the clothes out of curiosity because a famous name is attached. In some cases, the belief is that buying these clothes will afford you the same lifestyle or help you resemble the celebrity. Who doesn’t want to look like Pete Wentz or Jessica Simpson? OK, bad examples.
In some cases, the collaboration is in name only. Other times, celebrities fancy themselves designers because they’ve been in the front row at a couple of fashion shows. Last week it was Heidi Klum announcing a line of shoes and Nicole Richie saying she will branch from jewelry into women’s and children’s clothing.
“After a while a girl who borrows dresses all the time just can’t have style,’’ Isaac Mizrahi said last week about celebrity fashion lines at a “Future of Fashion’’ panel discussion in New York. “It’s not a collection, it’s just ‘hold on, I need to take pictures tonight.’ And I’m not judging people, I like it, it’s fun. You know, but after a while you wonder if these people actually go to a store and buy something at full price.’’
But my concern in all of the celebrity fashion hullabaloo is that while investors are busy pouring money into the Jonas Brother’s new
Christopher Muther can be reached at muther@globe.com. 
