Dries Van Noten has steadily and might I say, ruthlessly programmatically, risen to the golden inner circle of “my favorites.” And what a sweet ascent it has been. From not really knowing about Van Noten, to slowly liking his work more and more, to now frenzied longing – well, who the hell knows. He might actually be my favorite designer.
His collection shown in Paris today was no less as engrossing than previous Van Noten presentations. Whatever wacked-out frame of reference(s) Van Noten uses, they always amalgamate in to something of passionate, quirky desirability. In simpler jargon – he makes clothes you never wished for, but all of a sudden, they’re the only things you want for Christmas.
SS2011, for Mr. V N, had a slick icy detachment in its execution, even though floral prints abounded. The motifs had a methodic, Asian-inspired shape and placement too them, but Van Noten was most successful in his basics. Plus, the styling was impeccable. Sheer sheaths over silky hot-pants, long and boxy blazers (with endless lapels) and pastel x black color framed the high points of the show. It was a good kind of 70′s. Plus Van Noten, as I recently read in Australian Harper’s Bazaar, doesn’t believe in advertising, and too that I say f*ck yeah Dries. I’ve become quite the dirty little anti-BIG BUSINESS advocacy in my free time. Here’s to Van Noten and his bright young revolutionaries.
Disco! Prairie! Smoking! Jacket!
Favorite look of fashion month so far.
-Elliot
Hey Boys x Girls,
Sorry for the mini-hiatus. Had something called life to deal with. How is everyone? See Britney Spears’ Glee dedication? Kind of underwhelming right?
Speaking of kind of underwhelming – WTF @MilanFashionWeek. Save for Prada and Bottega Veneta, most of the Italian design houses’ SS11 collections were even more unsavory than usual – ie., Roberto Cavalli is never good, but this go around he was especially bad. Will illustrate below with some vignettes. The three worst looks off the Milan runways:
Pucci. Pucci is sinking fast at the deep end of the pool, if you know what I mean. Style.com sees the Greek Isles in full party mode, a Mediterranean sunscape of the hyper rich with exquisitely bad taste. But, you know what I think of with Dundas’ latest offerings? “A Prostitute Goes To Ralph Lauren.” You just have to know that the next time you are at a fancy party in whatever summer vacation spot you choose, the obligatory annoying/screaming/embarrassing girl is definitely going to be wearing this dress.
Missoni also has a bit of the Western “thing” going on, but rather than romantic, idealized notions of big skies and vast plains and purple mountain’s questionable majesty, that “thing” is more along the lines of “batty old actress who buys a thousand acre ranch and falls deeply in love with the ‘Indian spirits’ her holistic therapist has told her exist on the property and Xanax.” The American dream! Missoni may or may not have just made people like Goldie Hawn very happy.
Roberto Cavalli is the holographic, whipstitched, metallically dazzling shining star of trash. He is the Grover (Grover being the crusty green monster from Sesame Street that lives, as in makes a home of, a trash can) of the Fashion World. Except, Roberto’s trash can is a sparkly aubergine colored yacht. Like, who exactly is going to buy these pants? Or the top for that matter? Pocahontas? Only brought back from the dead to be contractually signed with an Azerbaijani escort agency?
There were other bad bad bad things, Versace, Versus, Marni (I’m sorry…) included…
-Elliot
Filed under: DSquared
This is what Serena wishes she could look like. Nice job Chip and Dale or whatever your names are.
-Isabel
Filed under: Musings
Excuse the absence. I’m in the midst of an apartment search and job transformation, two grueling life transitions that are as unsexy as Roberto Cavalli’s new collection wishes it wasn’t (more on that in a second) and it’s enough to make you forget that beautiful things are happening over in Europe. Thank god. Tim Blanks, my current fashion reporter crush, writes:
For a designer who is as mesmerized by line and proportion as he is, there can ultimately be no more seductive métier than couture—but where traditional couturiers have been paying lip service to the modernizing possibilities of the T-shirt-and-ball-gown combo for a dog’s age, he made it a walking, talking proposition with his opening passage of major skirts and minor tops.
Translation: Simons created a genius collection that manages to reinvent minimalism by designing clothes that are inherently maximalist using couture as inspiration thus creating a collection that is by definition, almost completely new. Translation: other designers are jealous of Simons’ talent.
Even though many of these designs are not necessarily wearable the way that minimal clothing should be–sweeping the street with your floor-grazing, voluminous skirt is only romantic in theory–there were also a slew of separates that I guarantee will be in every editorial come Spring.
Beauty note: There is a reason Balenciaga models and Jil Sander models always look the most beautiful during the various fashion seasons. Minimal makeup. Think about it. Try it. If you’re all of a sudden ugly without makeup, guess what, you’ve always been ugly. This is not entirely why, but very plausibly why, the focus on these designers’ clothing is that much more intense. Or maybe they’re just brilliant. Either way, just look at these details shots above.
-Isabel
Just watch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sgq1PE-slKE
Also, can’t say it any better than these guys, but I am going to try, but in the meantime, here’s what they’re saying:
-Isabel
Filed under: Bottega Veneta
The Bottega Veneta SS2011 collection, which was unveiled this morning in Milan, is one of simultaneously dreamy yet steel-cut coolness. I’m just going to go out on a crude linguistic limb here and say that BV is insane. Insanely f*cking brilliant. I don’t want to romanticize the flattery. Bottega Veneta f*cking rules my world.
Where else can a client go for clothes so effortless and comfortable and unique? How come Tomas Maier’s idea of chic and cool is so strong and non-trendy, non-transparent, non-gimmicky? Perhaps it’s the company’s strong anchor in the craft, the art, and not the show nor after party. The depth and production at BV is (almost) emotionally stirring, and today, the house showed one of it’s best collections to date.
That’s not to say it will be without criticism – it was a bit frenetic, a bit disjointed, and at times a bit unflattering (hemmed fins down the sides of silk pants can only be worn by runway models kind of unflattering). Yet the freneticism, to me, upheld the airily surrealistic vibe of the collection – chain-mail jumpers, degraded feather embroidery, angular alligator vests, slashes of muted color across shimmery floor length dresses (blocking is widely regarded as a Maier signature), bracelets with antique coins and busts and shaggy intrecciato bags. It was pulchritudinous in it’s somber aesthetic – a working palette of black and white and gray and washed out neutrals. It reminded me vaguely of London, of Hyde Park under rain, but with bizarrely effective moments of bondage, of nightmares, of fantasies. Just look below. Also Freja opened and closed… the perfect book-ends on the most impressive collection from fashion month thus far.
I wonder if the movie Inception had any impact on the inspiration for this collection. Transformation between states, imagination, ideas…
-Elliot
Filed under: Alexander McQueen
Daphne Guinness at the Alexander McQueen Memorial Service
The best and most poignant photograph of the fashion season.
-Elliot and Isabel
So. This collection was borderline ridiculous and got progressively worse as the show went on. But London Fashion Week (refreshingly) never takes itself too seriously and, clearly, neither do the models who walked in Vivienne Westwood Red Label SS 2011 who allowed their faces to be smeared with a blue substance that quite resembled blue paint. To be honest, I loved it. Like I’d wear both looks pictured above in their entirety and welcome any skeptical gazes from the patrons of any dining or drinking establishments. Great jackets and pants. Flattering (well, flattering if you’re thin) shorts. The occasional outstanding accessory (hello, this chef’s hat?!), like an oversize bag in Navajo-print felt and color-blocked patent-leather brogues and high-tops.
All London cool. All very Gwen Stefani circa Tragic Kingdom, just a tad more grown up. Speaking of Gwenie, I am in Orange County at the moment on “an assignment” (so this is why people want to be journalists I’m thinking as I stare out my ocean view suite at the Ritz), so apologies all around if the Milan reportage is intermittent.
-Isabel
Filed under: Musings
S/S 2011 shoe update for your sweet, sweet time:
For S/S2011, Frida Giannini referenced “Marrakech” in her presentation’s inspiration. While I’m more of the conviction of “expensive call girl,” I do see a little bit of the Moroccan oasis in her aesthetic. These skanky woven boot heels are the only thing I liked from Gucci, and I think they’d look just fabulous at one of Marrakech’s equally skanky clubs like Theatro, Nikki Beach (ugh) or… Pacha? Sadly, I’ve been to all of these places.
Opps! What’s this? F*cking Gucci again, but this time, we see Morocco in a Disney palette, in Jasmine’s sultry powder blue buxomness, swinging that thick head of hair around. Work, sister. Or sorry, as Brad Goreski was just quoted in the f*cking New York Times Style Section, werk. There’s a difference.
Rodarte. Cool socks. Look hard.
Geometry and arts x crafts at Carolina Herrera. Can’t see these shoes holding up for more than 45 seconds.
Altuzarra is throwin’ around some sort of witchy bondage sailboat stewardess in these puppies. You know that nineties gem “Macarena?” I kind of want to re-launch it, but instead of “Macarena”, enter “Altuzarra.” No big. Heyyyyy, Altuzarra, Ayye!
-Elliot
Filed under: Jonathan Saunders
The contestable Roi de Couleur Jonathan Saunders sent out a pensive, slightly mod/contemporary collection for SS2011. It had the basics of Neo-Plasticism, an art term derived by Piet Mondrian – except for Saunders, his colors were not primary, but secondary, and greatly effective due to their restraint. Though, indeed, there were floral patterns with varying levels of intricacy, they were without much saturation nor variation between their respective palettes. It was as if Saunders saw the black and whites of his basic silhouette, and overlaid or dyed or printed a strict application of one pantone of orange, one of green, and so on and so forth.
Additionally, the collection, to me, held a sort of militaristic WWII nurse vibe, maybe because the outfits were somberly celebratory in their ’40′s silhouettes. You know how fighter pilots painted pin-up girls on the noses of their planes? Well these are the same girls, just in technicolor. Sound heady? Maybe pictures will help…
I love the perfectly triangular v-cut on this.
-Elliot
