H I G H EN D F AS H I O N M EETS STREET ST Y LE
REALITY Fall Winter 2012 Issue #4
Alexander McQueen 2012 Fall Winter Collection Paris Fashion Week Photographed by Kevin Tachman
04 06 28 EDITOR'S LETTER_BIG BOOK MAKE FASHION YOUR OWN
NEW YORK FASHION WEEK
MARC JACOBS 08 · DKNY 16· ALEXANDER WANG 22
PARIS FASHION WEEK
HERMÈS 30· GIVENCHY 36· LANVIN 44
Editor’s Letter
Make Fashion Your Own Fashion, no matter how chic, is incomplete until you make it your own, be it with a trusty cashmere cardigan or a signature tangle of chains. Something I’ve learned after all these years in the industry is that no two women wear any piece, say, a cheetah-print dress, in quite the same way. That’s the beauty of what happens when a garment enters real life from a glossy magazine page. And so I’ve always aimed to make Bazaar about enhancing a woman’s personal style. Lucky for me, it’s one thing my team has in spades. Even though we are in the business of trends, the Harper’s Bazaar staff isn’t made up of slavish followers of the runway’s many dictates. Instead, they bring their own character to their wardrobes. I’ve been convinced since eighth grade that you are what you wear. So much so that when I went to a luncheonette and unexpectedly ran into the boy I had a crush on in drama class, I was sure I knew why he fumbled his soda. Clearly it was because I was sporting the new mod look, which I’d cribbed from the latest issue of Seventeen magazine: purple bell bottoms and a white tie-at-the-neck blouse with, yes(cringe), sheer stripes. In my mind, I was now a suburban Helen of Troy: One glimpse of me caused boys to falter. Which leaves me, I suppose, with more than the average psychological baggage about what I wear. For years I stashed away favorite pieces, hoping to pass them along to my fashion-minded daughter. But when Lake made it clear that she had other aspirations, I gave away those old pieces and today try to keep my clothing footprint neutral, removing one old item for each new purchase. I may even be ready to try deputy editor Jennifer Braunschweiger’s ingenious closet project (page 52), in which you distill your style by forcing yourself to wear each item in your work wardrobe and see how it makes you feel. But here’s the question: Am I really ready to part with that floral dress I wore to the party my staff threw for me when I left my first editor-in-chief job? Finally, am I prepared to let go of my younger self and move on? Memo to the More staff: Buckle your seat belts; it’s going to be a bumpy ride. I hope you enjoy this exploration and its everlasting fountain of inspiration.
Heejin Suh, Editor-in-Chief
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Marc Jacobs Cat in The Hat meets Kurt Cobain
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Model Thairine Garcia is wearing Marc Jacobs light grey coat and black leather inner with black pants and yellow leather shoes
Backed by the financial might of LVMH, Jacobs provides New York Fashion Week with its only full-tilt fashion moment. Yet again he’s pulled that rabbit from his hat, courtesy of some mega millinery in multi-coloured fur, puritan clothes in Technicolour, zingy paisley and an enormous origami creepy-castle set by the artist Rachel Feinstein. Analysing whether anyone fancies wearing some diamante-buckled, high-heeled pilgrim shoes or a tiger-print Jamiroquai-ish hat is not the point: this was an exercise in considered craziness, Cat in The Hat meets Kurt Cobain (said Jacobs), a spectacle for the sheer what-the-hell sake of it.
With Lionel Bart’s soaring lyrics, “Who will buy this wonderful feeling? I’m so high, I swear I could fly!” from the musical “Oliver!” on the soundtrack, one couldn’t help but imagine the models as chic street urchins and flower sellers, nannies and grannies, in outsized hats, color-saturated tinsel tweed frock coats and skirts, crocheted sweaters, argyle socks and pilgrim shoes with enormous rhinestone buckles. The madcap combinations, clashing colors and prints, also called to mind the surging blogger class of fashion fan boys and girls, the Tavi Gevinson, Susie Bubble and Bryan Boys of the world, and their wide-eyed Hollywood
There was nothing jaded here, just pure, unabashed fashion fun—as if Jacobs was trying to remind us all of why we got into this business, because we love dressing up. Backed by the financial might of LVMH, Jacobs provides New York Fashion Week with its only full-tilt fashion moment. Year after year, watching a Marc Jacobs runway show is exactly what whimsical film depicts “tumbling down the rabbit hole” to be like. For the designer’s Fall 2012 showcase however, that depiction is just a tad more literal; indeed, we do end up in what appears to be Alice’s Wonderland. An eccentric mix of oversized hats, various colors, shoes(both high and low) boasting oversized buckles, and a surrounding that could easily be mistaken for Whoville make this collection what every woman wants her wardrobe to be: A fantasy.
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If one wanted to squeeze a fashion trend out of the performance, it might be possible to say that the clothes added to the current conversation about the up-sizing of garments. The many coats came with exaggerated bell-shaped skirts and another layer of felted and embellished skirt beneath them, often with knitted or crocheted stoles wrapped around the shoulders and pinned with a giant safety pin. Often the girls took on the look of dolls whose owners had dressed them up in clothes too big for them. At other moments, they seemed to be Victorian urchins, but playfully, theatrically so. And there was nothing at all downbeat about the richness and embellishment going on in the clothes: tweeds woven with plastic and tinsel, bright sparkly lamé, oversize glittery paisley-patterned jacquards, and multiple, playful combinations of greens, lavender, ocher, pinks, reds, gray, and black. Stripped down to its individual pieces, there’s no doubt there will be a wealth of things for girls to wear in their own combinations. But that pragmatic fact wasn’t the main lesson here: It was that Jacobs put the fun back into fashion, and that was elating to see.
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The artist in question was Jacobs’s friend Rachel Feinstein, who jammed with him on far more than the amazing rickety-house set she built for the show. “We were talking about The Cat in the Hat, pilgrims, American conservatism,” Jacobs was saying, amid a teeming crowd backstage after the show. “The tinsel,” he added, “was from a photograph of Kurt Cobain, wearing tinsel round his neck.” “And what’s with the fur hats?” someone shouted. “Ah! I think every woman should have a fur coat,” Jacobs shot back. “Only now she should wear it on her head!”
compatriots, like Dakota Fanning, who was sitting front row. For that generation, fashion isn’t so much about money and status as it is about personal peacockery, the louder the better.
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It’s quite something when a designer can send an audience tripping out into the night humming a cheerful ditty and feeling they’ve just seen the best show in town. That was exactly the happy sensation Marc Jacobs, fashion impresario, generated in a New York event which merged fashion with theater on a grand but curiously sweet scale. To the tune of “Who Will Buy?” (the Lionel Bart song from the musical Oliver!), repeated in three versions (one of them Nancy Sinatra, another the Mormon Tabernacle Choir), he put on a crazily eccentric show of cartoony Victoriana which oughtn’t to have made sense on any level, but ended up putting smiles on faces and lifting spirits. It was fashion subverted from its usually ruthless clockwork-commercial course: anti-sexy, absurdly styled with outsize wonky fur hats and cumbersomely non-body-conscious shapes—a show made, subversively, for the naive enjoyment of it. And of course that only accentuated the thrill of watching a fifteen-minute parade that reestablished the radical idea that fashion can still be free to be creative and cross over with art.
MARC JACOBS 2012 Fall Winter Collection New York Fashion Week Photographed by Kevin Tachman ARTICLE by Luke Leitch
DKNY loved that bandeau belt
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“Gosh, I really loved that bandeau belt they had.”
That being said, the strongest message to come through for fall resonates at the brand’s very core. It’s time for the young, city-dwelling DKNY girl to go back to black. In the 20-plus years since the label launched, that idea of an urban uniform has became a universal, working dress code across the world. In that sense, it’s easy to forget that the all-black-everything look originated here with women like Donna Karan. When the designer emerged
Fashion conundrum of the day in sub-zero New York: when the temperature hits freezing how can a woman stay warm without looking like she’s been mugged by a duvet? At DKNY, Donna Karan kicked this question to the kerb. Her answer: big, super-snug down-filled jackets rescued from shapelessness by tight, waist-hugging belts that in one case created a sort of peplum parka. To underline their qualifications as insulation, Karan’s models hit the catwalk direct from the kerb outside—and looked convincingly un-traumatised by the sub-zero winds that were flying in off the Hudson river. The parka’d models were less fortunate. They looked great, but deserved danger-money for braving the gales in a collection that started with some no-nonsense city-wear—slim fit trouser-suits in black and little kick-skirt dresses—then played (as last season) with florals and zingy coloured eveningwear. This time that floral was a rose on top of a dusky blue background. Along with a “haircalf portfolio” (answers on a postcard, please) the press release had promised a Beat Generation inspired collection—but this was a troublesome thesis to substantiate, one black polo neck section on a leopard-head’s black and white jumper apart. Had the gamines of Beat had dressed this sleekly, Kerouac would have been a lot less tortured. Ashley Greene, who plays Alice Cullen in the angst-narrative de nos jours, Twilight, attracted a vampire-pack of photographers. She is the star of the label’s spring
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That high, wind-shielding collar ran through the entire collection, sometimes worn as a detachable scarf atop one-button blazers with leather sleeves and black dresses with flirty leather peplum insets. Indeed, if there is one insulating top layer set to topple fashion’s current love of fur this season—judging from what we’ve seen of fall thus far—it’s leather. It appears all over the collection, from the head-to-toe look of a skirt suit to the embossed croc corset-like belts cinching a cozy puffer.
from the street to take her bow at the end of the show, she did so dressed in the shearling that opened the show; the consummate New Yorker through and through.
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The fact that there is never a cab around when you need one is a constant gripe of all New Yorkers; the fight to catch one during Fashion Week is a sideshow in itself. There is one place, however, you’re always likely to find a yellow taxi these days, and that’s at the DKNY show, where for the past few seasons, a cab has been parked at the top of the runway and rolls onto the street. Today has undoubtedly been the coldest day this week, and as the army of models swept in from the sidewalk, they brought with them a frosty chill, and fashion editors in the front row huddled together to keep warm. Wearing a shiny black leather and shearling coat fastened securely around the neck, the first model that walked into the spotlight was more appropriately dressed than most for a cold New York winter.
campaign—and hence minded to be gushy in her assessment—but her analysis had bite.“Gosh, I really loved that bandeau belt they had,” she said:“It gave everything this really cool edge. And I absolutely loved having it around those really big jackets. Listen: no-one wants to wear a puffy coat—you’re in New York—and this gave it some shape.”
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21 NEW YORK FASHION WEEK DKNY 2012 Fall Winter Collection New York Fashion Week Photograph by Kevin Tachman ARTICLE by Sharon Feiereisen
ALEXANDER WANG Tweed and fishnet
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25 Now, how to explain it? As so many shows have been in New York this week, it was chiefly an essay on outerwear—the coats and jackets that will take us through next winter looking a hell of a lot slicker and smarter than we do now. Wang dealt his vision of modern tailoring in graphic shapes—rigorously narrow raincoats, biker jackets, and chesterfields(many hybridized with stiff hoods) paired with pants, slim mid-calf skirts with a center slit, or leather knee boots. Sounds simple? Hardly. The surface of every garment was textured in some amazing, eye-tricking way; cross-hatched or corrugated, gleaming or bubbled, plasticized or matte. As for the collection itself, it was minimalist and heavy on black with a few lighter moments. Most of the looks were monochrome and pieces were, for the most part, fashioned into stiff, almost robotic looks. Ironically, given the show’s cast, most of the models walked the runway with mesh mouth covers, though
when the supers took to the runway they ended up taking them off before walking away. Even while hanging on a rack backstage, it was impossible, without an advanced degree in fabric technology, to understand how most of these garments had been constructed, only that they felt light, wearable, and weatherproof. It was those possibilities that excited Wang, allowing him to carry off such clever transpositions as turning an oxblood quilted sweater into a jacket substitute. Not that we were in art-house experimental territory. All these innovations were intercut with traditionally luxurious leather, sometimes sculpted into whole garments, like the sculptural down-filled jacket and vest (leather masquerading as nylon), or stripped onto the front of pants or skirts, with suede forming the back. Ultimately, what made this collection inspiring and compelling was the way Wang seamlessly merged all these elements without relying on a theme or narrative, or feeling any need to play to a mass-market gallery by checking off his “best-sellers.” When he turned to eveningwear, fusing leather bodices with draped chiffon or making silk fringe fly from shirting, he defied all clichés of cocktail dressing and red-carpet wear. None of it could be adequately labeled as a look, but that is no reflection on its coherence—quite the opposite. Fashion is always at its most exciting when there aren’t quite the words to sum it up. It’s then you know you’re really looking at the future. Among the
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Forget the references to NASCAR racing, BMX biking, and sports in his spring collection. Put aside categorizing perceptions about young, hip, contemporary wear. This fall, Alexander Wang broke out of any boundaries that might relegate him to the notional status of a junior-league champion of a fashion subset. His show on Saturday was a breakthrough: a collection with all the distinctions of proper, strong, and innovative design on a level of maturity which had the audience craning forward, engaged and curious from first look to last.
ALEXANDER WANG 2012 Fall Winter Collection New York Fashion Week Photograph by Riccardo Tisci ARTICLE BY Belinda White
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standout pieces were knee-high black boots(sure to be among next season’s must-haves), puffer vests, ankle-length trousers, fringe-accented dresses, ribbed patent leather jackets, and high-shine(sometimes high-slit) outerwear, which appeared almost armor-like and was often worn by the models as dresses. As for handbags, they were covetable as always. The new silhouettes are on the boxy side(somewhat reminiscent of Victoria Beckham’s handbag silhouettes) and came in a variety of sizes.
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hermès layered-up, blown-up
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Lemaire, who is prone to the priestly, flirted briefly with some cowly outerwear but then went for some loose Carré-print blouses, trousers and cardigans. The prints included a great image of some antique, interestingly-turned walking sticks that rose from waist to shoulder and some detailed, delicate inlaid florals. There was plenty of suede—in a wonderful russety red and deep bottle green as well as black—used in leather piped trousers and closely cut front-panelled dresses. There was, of course, a plane-load of bags—particularly notable was a black briefcase with a large H relief on the side and a handy
There was also a chic gaucho feel to the story, with many models wearing brimmed hats, and rich leather pieces that were exceptionally dapper. The colour palette ranged from deep greens and browns to warm spice tones. Soft suede tunics, wrapped coats, big leather belts, rich satin velvets, ponyskin and leather/knit combos all appeared, with a healthy helping of lovely silk prints. One in particular depicted a whimsical assortment of exotic walking sticks. Christophe Lemaire, who’s in his third season designing for the illustrious house of Hermes, seems to be giving the Hermes customer just what she craves.“I really believe that a relaxed feel can make for a very powerful way of dressing,” Lemaire said post-show. And to illustrate his point, legendary style icon Jane Birkin, whose namesake Birkin bag has captivated women since it was created for the actress back in 1984, was standing by in what she calls her “uniform.” “I usually wear men’s pants,” Birkin told me, pointing out her baggy cord trousers. “But I always wear an Hermes lightweight sweater, and this fabulous, ages old Hermes trench, that’s recently been re-lined.” Birkin is a poster girl for the power of relaxed dressing—precisely the message Hermes seemed intent on conveying. In the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, the venue for Christophe Lemaire’s third trot in the ring for
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Presented in the ochre, galleried grandeur of the L’Ecole des Beaux-Arts, the models young and old walked a maze of rickety wooden chairs to a guitar solo that had something of The Doors about it. This was a collection for travelling women who like to be confidently comfortable and chicly slouchy. There was a South American touch in the cashmere fringed blankets which became enveloping cloaks, ponchos and coats. Trousers were wide, pleated and practically tucked into high ruched-leg leather boots. Most wore narrow-brimmed trilbies, a masculine touch that was expanded upon briefly one model who wore braces crossed against her chest. Cecilia Chancellor wore a loosely knotted tie, a cream shirt and voluminously grey gentlemanly coat and trousers.
From capes and blanket coats and shawls trimmed in black leather fringes, to tailored jackets and oversized, manstyle coats and pants that ballooned from slouchy boots, there was a regal but decidedly relaxed feel to this collection. It was ultimately sophisticated and totally timeless.
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Jane Birkin—with her worry-bead accessorised Birkin bag on her lap—sat in the front row and a cluster of women who were beautiful and significantly older than the current crop of models—including Cecilia Chancellor, Marie-Sophie and Bamboo—were on the catwalk.
shoulder-strap that was drawn from the Hermès archive. Unlike so many other neophyte fashion houses, Hermès understands that relentless emphasis upon nothing but the new—or no-one but the young - is a short-term strategy.
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Hermès shows a collection for travelling women who like to be confidently comfortable and chicly slouchy. Hermès knows the value of longevity. Founded in 1837 France’s hautest leather house today presented a collection by Christophe Lemaire that was a carefully cultivated expression of ageless, pragmatic elegance.
equestrian deluxe brand Hermès, Jane Birkin was politely fielding questions from the very few reporters who noticed her, sitting as she was unobtrusively in the corner. She was dressed in an oversize trench, a wide-necked cashmere sweatshirt, loose pants rolled up to reveal high-top sneakers, with a pretty, beaten-up version of her namesake bag, strung with chains and gewgaws, right at her feet. Birkin looked like she didn’t have a care in the world, not least of all the fact that she wasn’t in any way fretting about the condition of her purse, probably the most iconic in the world. Spiritually, the laid-back, louche stylings of the English actress/singer/enduring style icon hang over the house of Hermès, but also, it would seem, how Christophe Lemaire was thinking about fall. It was a city-dwelling bohemian-tinged
late 1970s/early 1980s collision of layered-up, blown-up pieces (fringed tweedy shawls, side-pleated gaucho pants, enveloping robe coats in wool or arctic fox, a perfect and perfectly plain matte leather baseball blouson) touched with an old-school approach to androgynous dressing, as opposed to today’s rattier, rocker ideal—crisp white shirts, narrow silk smoking scarfs worn like men’s ties, a slouchy double-breasted, drop-waist overcoat. (Incidentally, merci Christophe, for having the taste to cast that eternally gorgeous English boy-girl, Cecilia Chancellor, in your show.) “It’s about creating textures, really,” said Lemaire afterward, “to show the beauty of the materials we can use.” Lemaire’s favorite moment—and it was the best, unquestionably—was his ode to those very materials, stripping everything back to a more timeless idea of
HERMÈS 2012 Fall Winter Collection PARIS Fashion Week Photograph by Kelly Heck ARTICLE BY Lisa Armstrong
what the house can be; specifically, a couple of deep green suede and leather coats, collarless, and straight cut,fastening either with snaps or a zipper, the kind of pieces that others aspire to make, but somehow only ever come out right when they’re created by Hermès’s stellar artisans. There was evening too—“le petit soir,” Lemaire called it, “Hermès is not about ball gowns”—with geometric and jockey print scarf silks used for little gilets, soft tunic dresses, and wide crop pants, worn one against the other in a head-to-toe cacophony of pattern that came about because Lemaire had been thinking about Gustav Klimt. But perhaps the closing look caught the spirit of the house best. Bambou, a cinquante-something model-turned-singer and one-time lover of Serge Gainsbourg’s, slowly and carefully
tread the runway in an unadorned and dignified black velvet dress. There was something a little weathered and worn about her, life etched on every fiber of her being, but still her indomitable beauty shone through. If that’s not what Hermès ultimately stands for, then nothing does.
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GIvenchy FOR SAUCY RIDERS
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This collection was the fashion show equivalent of a particularly fruity Jilly Cooper novel. To a soundtrack of thundering hooves, the models galloped back and forth wearing leather jodhpurs in exaggerated proportions, high black boots and quilted jackets in laser cuts. The most Cooperish allusions of all were the spindly strapped, sunray-pleated, filmy négligée dresses in the winning purples and oranges of jocky silks, accessorised with black long leather gloves. That’s pretty much what came out of the starting blocks at Givenchy—plus a few gymslip-style skirts in black leather slashed pleats. It wasn’t discreet, although they stopped short of giving the girls whips - and those leather jodhpurs also came in khaki satin. You’re not going to blend in with the huntin’, shootin’, fishin’ set in this lot, although they might well appreciate your efforts to spice things up a bit. A soundtrack of thundering hooves? Jodhpurs in exaggerated proportions and black, beige or red leather? Tall black boots that looked as though a pair of chaps had accidentally slipped down the leg to cover the heel? Quilted jackets in laser cuts the like of which have never been seen anywhere near a point to point? Leather coats with cape flaps? And the most direct in flagrante allusion of all; spindly strapped, sunray pleated, filmy negligee dresses in the winning purples and oranges of jocky silks, accessorised with black leather gloves that reached to the arm pit? That’s pretty much what came out of the starting blocks at Givenchy—plus a few gymslip style skirts—in black leather slashed pleats. It wasn’t terribly discreet, although
they stopped short of handing out whips to the models, and those leather jodphurs also came in khaki satin. Still, you’re not going to blend in with the huntin’ shootin’ and fishin’ set in this lot, although they might well appreciate your efforts to spice things up a bit. But blending in is not Riccardo Tisci’s raison d’être. His forte is tailoring and it gets better and better. Amidst all the pony-club-dominatrix paraphernalia were some of the most beautiful wool jackets with flared cuffs and swooping tails, and plenty of asymmetric ones to—cropped at the waist in front bottom covering from behind—and a whole lot more wearable than they sound. Amidst all the dobbin-meets-dominatrix wear were hidden some of the most beautiful wool jackets with flared cuffs and swooping tails, and plenty of asymmetric ones, too—cropped at the waist in front, bottom covering from behind—that were a whole lot more wearable than they sound. Literal equestrian references ran the head-to-toe gamut, from the giant solid-disc earrings (intended to evoke the blinders of a carriage horse) to the riding boots, crafted with a loose leather sheath that disguised the heel. Jodhpur-shaped pants were given a slouchy modern attitude. The shapely jackets too, with their bustled panels and elaborate seaming, had a faint echo of Victorian riding costume, as well as menswear (there were vestigial tailcoat tails) and even military uniforms of that period, but these were reimagined in Riccardo Tisci’s thoroughly contemporary aesthetic. Some jackets had panels of translucent black muslin that subtly revealed the
Model Stef van der Laan is wearing black leatehr trench coat, black long gloves, and black long boots
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Meanwhile, there was a geometric Bauhaus rigor to some of the boxier-cut, deep-sleeved tailoring pieces, as well as a brace of inventive mink jackets in color blocks of black, red, and natural browns. Elsewhere, texture contrasts were provided by panels of gleaming pony skin (which is, of course, calf hide—Tisci isn’t that literal) against wool and leather. The Soviet stars that were scattered subtly across Tisci’s haute couture creations for spring (in tone-on-tone sequins or three-dimensionally molded leather embroidery elements) were used again here, but this time with unapologetic scale and bling-ing razzle-dazzle; a dramatic take on the jewel-like embroidery story that has swept the international collections. For the softer, “feminine” side of the collection there was a whiff of Gianni Versace’s nineties looks in the short lingerie-inspired dresses with traceries of lace set into butter-soft leather or slippery satin in unusual color combinations that included lilac with khaki or ice-blue with orange and violet. Fluttering satin court trains worn with evening jodhpurs were an edgy, modern option for a statement evening look.
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classic tailor’s infrastructure of stiffening interlining and basting stitches within. The high turn-of-the-century collars that are a defining flourish this season were handsomely present here—and for the evening looks were replaced with wide ribbon chokers with flying streamers that were once prettily called suivez-moi-jeune-homme.
“The brooding sexuality of Bourdin’s work”.
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LANVIN Que Sera,Sera
Ten years of Alber! The birthday boy threw a whopping Lanvin party tonight—true, heartwarming, campy, and calorific fun for a stadium-full of the family of fashion. At least for an hour or two—first, a slam-dunk of a collection, and then a sprawling after-celebration—he magicked up a surreally happy respite from the stressed, snippy, gossip-ridden melee of fashion. Taking to a glittery stage, backed by Joey Arias and a motley band of dance musicians, Alber Elbaz gave a sweet, gender-adapted rendition of Doris Day’s “Que Sera, Sera,” singing, “When I was just a little boy, I asked my mother, ‘What will I be?’ ” Then, throwing open a cavernous back lot, he let them eat cake—piles of petit-fours, macaroons, candied fruits, bonbons, chocolate éclairs, and sugared almonds on groaning trolleys—and be merry. If the global popularity of Lanvin can be measured by the mob of international TV cameras that swallowed Elbaz up after the show, it’s brinking on mega. By good fortune of a long relationship with the brand’s Taiwanese owner, Mrs. Shaw-Lan Wang—and a decade of quiet dedication to serving women—Elbaz stands on the threshold of “the Asian century,” with Chinese store openings rolling out before him. They’ll add more millions of fans to the droves of American and European women he’s wooed with draped silk and zippy crepe and a humorous, human touch since he stepped into the then-dormant house in 2001. But the show? It was a fast-stomping, glorious spectacle of all the achievements Elbaz has made his own as the triumphant pioneer of the Dress Decade. It wasn’t a retrospective, per se. Always restless to improve his grip on cut and on communicating something about the current state of working, playing, multitasking womanhood, Elbaz isn’t one to recline on his laurels. Instead of playing it long and self-congratulatory, he stepped on the gas, sending models out at a businesslike clip in wave after wave of the clean-cut to the flouncy to the elaborate and frankly bonkers-brilliant things he does to cover a woman’s body from neck to knee. He does it in solid shape and color, molding neoprene in bottle green, violet, chrome yellow, or rust red, with frontal peplums smoothed away in back. He does it with bounce, for those who like an hourglass waist and a voluminous skirt, in a little dance dress, a redingote coat, or flouncy taffeta trench. He deals for the strict and severe with power-black tailoring, and turbo-charged sculpted leather for the rocker-mom (with a wild, cable-knit-embossed motorcycle suit thrown in). He thinks of cheering a rainy day with a genius gold-flecked raincoat. And then, when he’s on the subject of evening, there’s no stopping him: He loads maximal jewels on sober tops and dresses, flings crazy red fur boas and coats on shoulders, and lets loose with giant faux emerald, sapphire, and garnet necklaces, with huge mirrored pendants swinging from them. Toward the end, as some of the girls marched forward, mirrors glinting, it almost looked as if beams of light were streaming joyfully from somewhere just above their hearts. Which is exactly how fashion at its best ought to make a woman feel. Thanks, Alber, for capturing that. Here’s to the next ten years.
MARC JACOBS 2012 Fall Winter Collection New York Fashion Week Photographed by Kevin Tachman
“I like dresses for night, I like afterparty more than party. I like the mystery; I like the dream, like fantasy dresses,�
But if you were to attempt to plumb Elbaz’s appeal—and the sheer joy that seemed to animate tonight’s audience shows how deep it runs—it might be the fun element that hits first. His ten years at Lanvin have given women a license to dress up, get down. The party section of the collection announced itself with gold brocade, then quickly leaped to glittering appliqués, beaded sheaths, exuberant prints, and intarsia-ed furs. The models literally had diamonds—OK, sparkles—on the soles of their shoes. And when Aymeline Valade worked the runway in a black dress with a huge white ruffle coiling around her body, it brought back memories of those purely pleasurable fashion moments when catwalk divas like Pat Cleveland shamelessly strutted in the name of style. Elbaz remembers those good times. Hence, the carnival atmosphere of his show closer and everything that came afterward. Alber himself crooned “Que Sera, Sera,” with a backing group of signal figures from his past. (“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Joey Arias on vocals, Miss Kim Hastreiter on xylophone.”) But the fizzy fabulosity of the evening kicked another thought pattern into gear. All parties must come to an end, and maybe that melancholy prospect is a less acknowledged element in the appeal of Elbaz’s clothes. Underneath all the dazzle, he gives you depth and a hint of darkness.
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The clothes he showed today certainly were. But not sweet like the pyramids of cakes that greeted guests at the after-show party. No, these outfits were suh-weet in their body-enhancing shape; their intense, delicious color; their feeling of wayward fun. Elbaz has always exalted womanliness (tonight he even confessed that he’d be happy to be considered a designer who reshaped women), and here there was a generous emphasis on the curve. Roundness too, especially in skirts that flared from hips.
PARIS FASHION WEEK
There was the merest snatch of “You Don’t Own Me,” Lesley Gore’s classic anthem of fuck-offery, on the Lanvin soundtrack today, but that was enough to cue the sense of triumph that must be powering Alber Elbaz in this, the tenth anniversary of his tenure at the house. There were the years when things didn’t go quite right, when the YSL dream job turned nightmare, when he felt like the eternal outsider in fashion’s sleek inner circle. But here he is a decade later, A-number one, top of the list, king of the hill, and somewhere deep inside, there must be a voice cooing to Elbaz that revenge is sweet.
LANVIN 2012 Fall Winter Collection PARIS Fashion Week Photograph by Kelly Heck ARTICLE BY Lisa Armstrong