Sprinkled over some Prabal.
ICB is back and it is heating my loins. Most previously designed by Viktor & Rolf, the Japanese label stopped distributing to the U.S. in 2002. That’s a ten year drought but on Wednesday night of this past week, the Chelsea laden Barney’s Co-Op, alongside co-hosts: Hannah Bronfman, Elin Kling and myself celebrated the anticipated re-release of ICB under the watchful creative eye of everyone’s favorite: Prabal Gurung. The space harbored the reinvention of a backyard barbecue, equipped with ice pop and taco carts, picnic tables and a musical performance by the Tan Lines, assumed and followed by a DJ set a la Mia Moretti and Caitlin Moe. Collection clothes were on display and people were happy.
Despite the climatic woes that have grown far too common this month, see: torrential rain, even Babe Walker made it over.
The fact of the matter is, Prabal Gurung understands the female body and thus recognizes the power of dressing it. Slip into a Gurung gown and all the sudden, you’re queen of the fucking world. Notwithstanding a hefty price tag, that’s a priceless feeling, friends. To see a collection, therefore, sprout at a more approachable price point straight from the thread of the purveyor of this very special brand of power, is most certainly cause for celebration.
One infiltrated by bourbon.
Yes, Wednesday night taught me something very important: it ain’t a party without brown liquor.
Wearing ICB dress, Etoile Isabel Marant jacket, Isabel Marant shoes and fake braids in my hair that are actually just pinned twirlies to combat rain frizz and also create the illusion–keyword–that I am capable of doing cool things to my hair. Shop the collection here.