The Paris shows are where we loook for the answers to: What is fashion? What will we be wearing next season? What length will skirts be? Color palette? It’s really way to much pressure to put on one city. Especially when so much of what is shown is borderline nonsense. I wonder no more why so much of the editorial in Vogue centers around the main French houses, well, that because they are the ones worth featuring. I saw Jane Campion’s Bright Star last night and sobbed through the sheer beauty and majesty of her direction and costumes. The bright star, played by Abbie Cornish (brilliant galore), is a self taught fashion designer. And through the ridicule of some of her flouncy collars, she scales back some of the nonsense because the word on the streets came back to her. I mention this for two reasons…1) to recommend this film and 2) to note that maybe it’s a good thing for designers to hear the absolute truth when what they how is plain old balderdash. With that…I share with you what I deem silly.
Comme de Garcons is an intellectual designer...I know, I know. His New York store is on my block. When walking my dog Woodstock, I tip in every so often. Next season, I can't wait to see these polka dot bike shorts and flattering jackets in stock and I do hope they carry the wigs too.
Maison Martin Margiela had all sorts of nonsense going down the runway. This lovely thing is...well...you tell me. First of all the footwear throughout the show makes the Milan booty story look like sling backs. Women who sign on for this on a lovely spring day...or better yet...summer...need to really get a grip because fashion has a grip on you. And you can also wear this on Halloween with Rihanna in Gareth Pugh. (See yesterday's review.)
Yes, I know, Viktor and Rolf are the quirky Dutch designers that are the toast of Paris. What can I say besides...if I see you in this get up...that is, if you can get out of the front door of your flat in this thing, let alone in a cab...fotz.
Eric Wilson of The New York Times called Rick Owens' collection a "revelation". Now to look at the bulk of the collection, you'll see these elongated tampons swinging between the models' legs. Revelation? Indeed. The only revelation for me is that anyone besides Cathy Horyn gets a vote in The Times Style section. Please note...the booty-liciousness...not.
I am sure the Rick Owens' shop on Hudson and nowhere in NYC will stock these crotch panels...for lack of a better term.
In the same way that Alberta Ferretti should stay in Milan and not bother with New York Fashion Week, this is also applicable to Vivienne Westwood and Paris. You are the toast of London...revel in it. Paris can live without your showing here...especially since you also are all up in that booty thing. Note to designers: Pick one city and sit put. It's not fair to hog the spotlight elsewhere. Sorry.
There’s more where this came from. But all in good time my pretties…all in good time. And my little dog too.
The aforementioned Woodstock.
The United States
Boise
umzckqoz
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