Dear Readers,
Excuse the lack of posts. Consider this a breather for not only me, but you as well before things pick back up. Adjusting to a new city and finding work can be time consuming beyond belief and as a result, draining on all fronts, especially my creativity. The fashion month coverage was more sparse than what I'd care for it to have been on this blog, but you can check out the dozens of reviews I wrote on the 212DRESSINGROOM blog and I'd recommend taking a peek at Bitch, Please's extensive reviews. Overall, I thought it was a weak season. Women are going to have a tough time balancing on insanely high heels and not looking ridiculous in harem panted jumpsuits or transparent laden pieces. The collections that really said something beyond what the trends dictated were the ones that really stuck out as defiantly beautiful and innovative with a bit of accessibility. If women's fashion has the edge of fantasy over men's, that's what should come through in the designs, however women of today need something functional and ultimately comfortable, wearable, and fitted to their own personalities. A seemingly impossibly magic trick to pull off, but it's what keeps fashion relevant and evolutionary.
Here are the top collections of the Spring/Summer 2009 season:
Rodriguez is a designer in the truest form of the word. He designs with shapes and colors in mind and manipulates them each season so that they remain fresh and new, although the same crisp white jacket from two season ago would work with his slim trouser on Freja Beha that looked as if a single ribbon had been wrapped around the leg of the pant. Exposed zippers were worked into the linear theme, which is becoming a bit of a trend for the New York season, and he did it down the front of elegantly austere dresses and sculptural jackets. The idea of being able to unzip a woman from the front is far naughtier and interesting than the Big Ideas that other designers drum up for their own theatrical tricks and quirks, and that's what separates from him the rest of the crop. Bandage dresses were also new for Rodriguez and looked especially sexy with one sleeve and baring just enough skin on Ali Michael. The play with lines juxtaposed with weightlessness and movement continued into beautifully light dresses with supporting harnesses on the bodice with blossoming lower halves, some bearing a nija star print. The nija star print was an odd touch but worked for a designer with such a precise eye and cut. Adhering mostly to his trusted black and white palette, there were colors such a yellow, seafoam, and a shimmering dusty rose that should resonate for next season. There's never enough to look at in a Rodriguez collection. The cutouts from one of his gorgeous evening gowns as well as the swish of movement from the skirts will have you turned on and amazed at such profound craft.
Don't let the recent shot of Jacobs in his underwear that accompanies his New Yorker profile lead you to believe he's someone that would be caught with his pants down. Part of Jacobs' genius is his media savvy, the way in which he skewers celebrity by being one and befriending them. He's been to rehab, he's morphed his look more than once, and his personal relationships have become under as much as attention as one of his celebrity muses. In a way Jacobs needs to play that game because when you really look at what's going on in his collection they are so densely packed with intelligent and esoteric ideas that you wonder how this enfant terrible has connected with the mainstream as much as he has. For Spring/Summer his almost avant garde take on American sportswear was another alchemic stew of references and ideas. Japanese inspired waist cinching obis, early '90s grunge plaid, Joan Crawford über-bitch, African inspired headwraps and tribal prints, Dust Bowl gatherer, George Cukor heroines, and I'm sure a host of other people, places, and things we're not, or even Jacobs for that matter, are aware of. Phew! Somehow Jacobs is able to blend all of this together into a cohesive statement about the power and resilience of American women. He's also smart enough to realize these looks should not be absorbed as a whole, there's something in every look that could turn on any woman, whether it be a mismatched prairie skirt, funky shoe, or brocade-looking jacket. This is the kind of fashion America needs and hopefully the man in the skirt can keep raising the bar.
Most forget, but Hall was in "Batman" as Jack Nicholson's hideously scarred girlfriend. Interesting thought for one of the most beautiful faces of the '70s to be disfigured on the big screen. The same thread, although not in terms of destroying beauty, informed the Proenza Schouler show where the beauty had a certain toughness, dangerous quality. Think lots of leather, zippers, pants that gave the allusion of being covered in a sheer trash bag. You do have to be quite the dame to pull off a middriff baring leather top complete with bra inset and high waisted white pants. With the models hair swept to one side and their red lips as jungle red as possible, the severity was only occasionally softened by the billowy harem pants or jumpsuits that ranged from the leather variety to the more parachute effect in floaty fabrics. Black and cream were the base palette with mint and a random purple dress, not an exciting array of colors. It was disappointing to see such an underwhelming use of color when last season their jewel tone intricately folded party dresses with contrasting tights were as exciting as anything in Paris or Milan. Jumpsuits are an acquired taste, but they have been spotted on other runways in New York, so I guess we can't blame them and their sequined version, which I could see on Liza Minelli while sharing a laugh with Halston at Studio 54 as opposed to a more contemporary and less trainwreck of a woman. Have dresses, pants, and tops becoming so boring that women need in all one in fix? The rounded shoulders on jackets and various tops also reminded me of Balenciaga last season and the exposed zipper play looked sexy on a Lanvin runway several seasons ago. I don't doubt the talent of Lazaro Hernandez and Jack McCollough, but I know they are capable of more. Perhaps the Dark Knight could save the day for fall 2009?
In a matter of words, Bastian's aesthetic could be described as "preppy with a twist." As vague as that sounds, Bastian has taken the Ralph Lauren brand of country club chic and infused it with an interesting balance between a European tailoring sensibility and a decidedly American sportswear bent. A beautifully cut one button blazer is paired with a pair of cut off sweats; an expressly American dichotomy for the guy who loves to dress up but in his downtime is casual and comfortable in sweats. That interplay of a polished Patrick Bateman type on top and athletic Adonis on bottom was the consistent narrative throughout the collection. A suede hooded safari jacket with cut offs not only pleased the eye but was a smart proposition for a man who needs clothes to transition from season. With the recession and the ever-unreliable environment making it difficult even for the fashionista's and fashionisto's, clothes at such lofty price points have to offer some range and transitional quality. A pair of navy corduroy shorts, a thin windbreaker, and pullovers of all varieties looked appropriate for the summer when paired with swimwear or beach ready footwear (flip flops and an immaculately tailored suit is bold, but can you blame an investment banker for wanting to run out of the office and head straight to the beach?). Clothes with a vexing psychology behind them won't be found here, and that's a compliment. Bastian's inviting display of summertime prep should gather even the most mad of men to follow in his direction.
What does one do in New York during early September? Fashion week, baby.
Spotted at Michael Bastian Spring/Summer 2009: NHL player and former Vogue intern Sean Avery, designer Peter Som, GQ Creative Director Jim Moore, Bergdof Goodman's Linda Fargo and Roopal Patel, Tim Motherfucking Blanks (awkward fan moment indeed), and Men's Vogue Amanda Brooks
Not Spotted: Rumored attendee Kanye West (Where were you Yeezy?)
Things I liked about a real fashion show: The early '80s dance soundtrack, the free flowing white wine, the deluge of the bad and the beautiful in the audience, and the free flowing white wine
Things I didn't like: The free flowing wine promptly ended at 7:30 when the show ended.
Things I was surprised to find: Michael Bastian has perfect skin. It's kind of scary how smooth his forehead is. Oh, and the Thom Browne exposed ankle with tapered pant look is very in this fall, or at least for the fashion conscious New York male.
More details and fashion week coverage ahead...
How to close New York Fashion Week? Kim Gordon swaying about on stage is a good start. For his fall collection Marc Jacobs continued to redefine what an American fashion show can mean. It's almost at performance art level with college marching bands, the show beginning in reverse, and set designs inspired Bertolucci films all being incorporated into shows past. What does American fashion mean? What does it mean right now? How is it related to celebrity, art, sex, women, men? He's always thinking and is never short on spectacle. Last season's deconstructed boudoir mood was as infamous as its two hour delayed start time. It was polarizing, controversial, and some are still thinking about and talking about it, and isn't that the sign of a great artist? That need for provocation and redefinition continued to his fall presentation that was more somber and straightforward, which can be his way of maintaining his taste for the rebellion.
To understand and embrace Jacobs it's best to look at his aesthetic as a whole. Last season it was flash and sex, this season it's conservatism and punk. In 2007, spring was Ali Baba and fall was "Last Year at Marienbad." The thread throughout lies in the a paradox between the enfant terrible and the prim, which fits the puritanical American sensibility when it comes to sex. Jacobs gets what bubbles beneath and is able to season after season gives us something new and all his own. This season it was bathrobe coats, feathered mohawk hats, wide corduroy trousers, and dropped waists. It's a challenging silhouette, but I suppose last season's shredded dresses with exposed undergarments wasn't exactly for everyone either. Colors drained of their vibrancy to a pallor dominated the collection, but pops of pumpkin, silver, and garnet reared their heads in places. Texture could be found in popcorn sweaters, velvet evening dresses, and cashmere coats. It was devoid of something overtly referential, which can be refreshing when so many other designers go for that. It was "calm" and "casual" according to Jacobs. That they were, but a collection so diametrically opposed to last season is anything more than "uninspired" as Jacobs claimed; it's as gutsy as the last.
In their totality the New York collections were slightly unimpressive. One does have to admit their isn't a dearth of talent, especially when it comes to the emerging designers, but many of the collections were lackluster and without something interesting to say. The shows that were stronger were built on fit, construction, texture, and color--all things that mark any solid collection. Many designers got tripped up when the foundations of their collections were built on "a woman in the countryside", the cool girl as defined by an ex-model, or Kurt Cobain. I'm not a woman, but I think women look their best when they're wearing something comfortable, something with movement, and something that flatters and flounces about their shape. Proenza Schouler, Threeasfour, Costello Tagliapietra and Narciso Rodriguez get the female form and adorn them in such sexy, modern ways. The resurrection of Halston was one of the most unflattering collections of the week with models drowning in fabric or pants that clung too tightly. I love minimalism, but there should be some control in the proportions. (i.e., poor Irina Lazareanu) Michael Kors' Hitchcock heroines were memorable as were Rodarte's blood thirsty fairies.
The menswear collections were varied as well. The man-boy aesthetic seems like it's here to stay and the one collection where it was apparent but done really well was Duckie Brown. Great shades of gray and aubergine and the proportion of long shirt, short jacket are things I will try for fall. Michael Kors sent out a solid menswear collection with his Cary Grant figures in nerdy glasses and incredible turtlenecks. Rag & Bone was an early standout of the week with their dark take on "Blade Runner" meets Victorian hero.
There was so much range personality in the best shows of the week that it gives the fashion conscious faith in American fashion. However, one can't help but wonder what the Europeans have in store.
Sadly this was the only noteworthy moment of Zac Posen's Minnie Mouse inspired fall collection:
"Oh my god, she's fashion roadkill!"--Stanford Blatch, "Sex and the City"
I chose not to review the Thom Browne show because to me the spectacle he presents is so laughable and bloated with big ideas that I have no words for what he calls "fashion." I like him less season after to season because his clothes are revolutionary in how the modern, fashion learned man wants to dress, but he distracts with the over the top histrionics. He is consistent in his tailoring and adoration of midcentury Americana. Another American designer known for slight theatrics and a twinkle in his eye, interpreted this same idea but did it better and more on target with the kind of clothes that a real man would want to wear. Enter Michael Kors and his mashup of Hitchcock and AMC's "Mad Men." I'm surprised most menswear designers didn't go into this direction for fall. It's a hot new show that is known and praised for its style and canonization of early '60s pomp. This period has been referenced to death, but it's refreshing in contemporary American men's fashion when a designer wants men to look like Men.
Every decade eventually comes back into the fashion conscious and Kors used a time period that is specific in its tailoring, attitude, and flair. One could argue that perhaps Kors is drawing parallels from that time and our current state of affairs. The early '60s had promise and change on the horizon, which not far off from where America stands now. However, judging from the glee that Kors's designs typically exude, this collection wasn't about heady issues plaguing the world, but instead dressing really well. These clothes look like something you would wear for martinis after work or for escorting a bright young thing to a deb ball. Impeccably chic and slightly nebbish with their thick glasses, this is a working man for the times. Never slovenly or disheveled, each look was more pristine and polished in its execution. Warm turtlenecks in shades of moss and purple, great coats, and of course, lacquered shoes minus socks painted the picture of the established man. The use of gray was my favorite. The gray topper with black top lapel, the gray pinstripe suit, and the gray cardigan are all pieces you want to wear for fall. The finale of Cary Grant-esque tuxedos looked super masculine and cool. Man-boys and androgynes need not apply.
All of this sheen and love affair of a time gone by is enthused optimism. Times are dour as is, so leave it to Kors to uplift and reminds us what it means to look fix up and look sharp.
There's a shockingly grotesque scene at the climax of David Cronenberg's 1979 horror divorce thriller, "The Brood", in which we find our hero's deranged ex-wife giving birth to a demon child. Her hair is perfectly roller set '70s and looks very angelic in her soft focus lighting, but when she opens her white gown to reveal a bloody pouch/appendage that she pries open with her teeth and then proceeds to lick the baby clean in the utterly most repulsively maternal way, the image doesn't leave you for a long time. For one reason or another I think of that scene when I look at the fall collection from sisters Kate and Laura Mulleavy, designer duo for the ethereally demented semi-haute couture line, Rodarte. The collection wasn't repulsive, but that same Cronenberg-esque under current of darkness that belies something very pretty and banal seemed more coherent and emotional than in collection's past. I appreciate the work that goes into their design, but sometimes I feel they are too in their own heads of dreamy otherworlds that can be too esoteric or jarring to most. However, this collection was rich in textures and more macabre in its mood and execution.
Last season the sisters cited Japanese slasher films as the starting point for the collection and it carried over to this season with better results. The effect of pale models covered in blood red stained wispy dresses looked really original and daring. It also helps that the model's lips had a dark cherry tint to them almost as if they have spent the night sucking blood and drinking wine. Gone are those stupid floppy hats from last season to allow a greater concentration on the clothes, and what a sight they were. Sheerness has always been a Rodarte staple but tights that looked like cobwebs creeping up the model's legs and light, airy layers of lace and chiffon were ladylike but smartly juxtaposed with those killer heels, literally. The knit designs this season looked more tattered and badass. Although some of the models looked like Degas ballerinas, their leather gloves and towering, spiked heels told a different story. It may all sound like a bit much, but this is what the Mulleavy sisters excel at. Their attempts at daywear that included high waisted slim pants and tea cup skirts were nice but fantasy is their franchise and they should stick with it, especially when it's this terrifyingly good.
Bitch, Please is killin' 'em:
Vivienne Tam
Narciso Rodriguez
Behnaz Sarafpour
Funny name, talented designer pair. Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez, the mad scientists behind Proenza Schouler confidently and contentedly marched to the beat of their own drum with their fall presentation. Last season I thought some of the styling was fuddy duddy (funky hats and feathers), but gone are those distractions and for fall they showed range in color, cut, and execution. Inspired by the folds and fans of paper planes and refreshing jolt of jewel tones, the collection was full of smart ideas and beautiful clothes--two things any woman would want.
The folding and tucking started from look one in the form of a bold mini-dress paired with contrasting tights and equally eye-popping shoes. To take something as simple as a solid color and the fold of a fabric and make something that feels very contemporary and fresh is a testament to McCollough and Hernandez's skill. The fabric bounced along with the body, controlled in such a way that you can see their handy work but be amazed at how polished it looks for it being part of the garment you normally never see. Exposure, or rather exposing the insides of the folds was a theme throughout. A designer who is more inspired by shape, cut, and color and not trying to pay homage to some movie or pop song is what I have been waiting for all week. Their take on color was especially striking. To change one's perception of color and what it can evoked when contrasted with another color is a true triumph. A purple mini-dress, with cascading folds paired with mustard tights and emerald shoes was perfectly mod but very now and right for fall. Exaggerated bows that clasped to collars looked feminine and just the appropriate dose of frill and femininity. When the hemlines weren't itty bitty, there were billowy trousers and coats like I've never seen before. Some had the folding technique applied to them while others were juxtaposed against metallic and beaded skirts. Lantern sleeves, lace, and Yeti looking wool followed, which could have been reduced, but the effect didn't take away from a young, cool collection.
The final parade of beaded minidress with a maxi version to complete the thought looked as if each girl were awash in modern glamour, and for that you get a sense that these boys know what they're doing.
Bitch, Please on:
Rodarte
Marc by Marc Jacobs
Proenza Schouler
Last season the British lablel Preen jumped across the pond to show in New York and it looks like they started a growing trend with the American debut of burgeoning British designer Jonathan Saunders. Known for his innovative take on color blocking, pleating, and structured minimalism, he stands out in the club kid circus arena that has become the toast du jour in London fashion as of late. His sleek take on urban dressing can be suited for New York and for the most part, the ideas and the intention was there, but often certain looks were bogged down by excess and a dire need to pare down.
The silhouette was lithe, statuesque, and strong with the models' hair slicked to their head like cue balls and bare makeup. The linear designs stopped just above mid-calf length or full to the floor to extend that bold line. Along the way down Saunders added strips and panels of pleats to the hip, which was not the most intelligent move since most women want to conceal or flaunt their hips, not add big strips of fabric to them. The silhouette and body conscious attitude is already not for most and by adding even trickier elements seemed completely off. When those panels were absent, looks excelled, namely a sexy zip-front coat with a fox trim and a sexy black evening dress that hugged the model's frame tightly. Outwear tailored with razor sharp precision, tall boots, and cinched waists are in combination a severe look that won't allow for much room to breath, but Saunders has room to grow in New York and learn from such mistakes.
The colors were decidedly muted and unremarkable (shades of beige was a stumble). There should have been a vibrancy or an aliveness with clothes that clamored to the body, but perhaps Saunder's big debut proved too much for him because the usual appeal of his clothes is how calm and cool they appear.
Bitch, Please on:
James Coviello
Preen
Hervé Léger by Max Azria
Behold the upper lip that belongs to British beauty Jourdan Dunn. It's killer to say the least. Last year was her runway debut after being discovered while shopping in a Primark department store. She's been popping up all over the place this week from Oscar de la Renta to Peter Som and gets the award for wearing one of the shortest and tightest dresses of the week at Hervé Léger by Max Azria. Striking in a conventional sense, which at times can be a relief from the harshness of the eastern European models, Dunn is one to watch.
For fear of sounding like a broken record, I'll refrain from mentioning that this is boyswear, not menswear, that we're talking about. I have not seen models for a mens show look so young since the Hedi Slimane days, and that was European fashion so we can give them a little of leeway. What does it say about men in the 21st century who want to look like little children? Granted, we are in an unusual state where men have been rendered unnecessary to a woman since they can work, procreate, and rule the world (and possibly this country) without the physical presence of a man. Without a sense of purpose it appears men have regressed to a childlike phase where responsibility is alien to them and we must dress like we did in fifth grade, proportions and all. You can look to the Sexual Revolution, the fetishization of the midcentury aesthetic as infantilized and perpetuated by designer Thom Browne, or the films of Judd Apatow and you can see something is a little off when it comes to the definition of man in the 2000s. Or you can look at Patrick Ervell's fall collection of slim suits, gold accented hoodies, and models with their best Jesus pretty boy hair and you begin to wonder if Ervell is in some way canonizing his subject and applying a bit of gold dust for just the right amount of true golden God shimmer. The stronger and less bothersome ideas of the collection existed in the outerwear and those wonderful shawl collar sweaters. Oatmeal and pale khaki are not my favorite colors, but the neutral colors worked for what was a simple, streamlined collection fueled by well tailored suits, parkas, and hoodies. To further his boyish message the collection was devoid of neckties but full of the sweater Grandma gives for Christmas and the letterman jacket handed down by your older brother. When will the man boy grow up in fashion? Not any time soon according to Ervell.
I really want to like Alexander Wang. I do, really. I appreciate the full trousers, sexy cocktail dresses, and I'll even take the ripped hosiery in his latest collection. However, I wonder if it's all styling and quite simply mirroring the taste of hipster fashion blogs. Not all fashion is capable or necessarily tied down to the idea that it must be forward thinking, but I'm not sure what to make of his fall collection. It just seems so easy to conjure up the grungy biker babe thing. None of these models look the least bit threatening, scary maybe due to their thinness and ratty looking hair, or tough as I'm sure was his sole intention. Their scowls are intense but you have to wonder wouldn't most leggy sixteen year-olds have a smile on their face if they got to wear overpriced high fashion? Isn't that the point of clothes is too elicit feelings of joy, confidence, and comfort? I'm curious what he's going to price these clothes because although they look well made, but they look so basic and neglected in care that it would be a riot if those beanies cost more than they would at a Goodwill bargain bin. Fashion is cyclical, so maybe this is a reaction the all of the '80s trends that have dominated fashion for the past few years, but I find it boring and too obvious. I don't know if Wang is too blame or his former model turned stylist Erin Wasson is the brains behind this goth, bohemian, streetwalker aesthetic, but it could use an actual point of view and one that Marc Jacobs wasn't doing in the early '90s. There are no rules in fashion, but showing a collection where some looks didn't include pants and others looked like recycled Mary-Kate Olsen throwaways seemed kind of hollow. I wouldn't say this is a bad collection, just as blah as the monochromatic and washed out color palette. Is there any thought in all of this? If so, maybe I missed it and maybe next season he can actually make clothes instead of sifting through the closet of Miss Olsen and calling it his own.
Bitch, Please on:
Baby Phat
Gold Digger, where art thou?
