On the Tail End
History in the making
Home stretch, people! Let’s talk Tuesday and Wednesday noting Anna dello Russo’s presence and starting with Oscar de la Renta, where the John Galliano influence was evident (for the uninitiated, he’s been studying under Oscar for an alleged three weeks) but only in the same way sugar is in cookies. The clothes maintained a fundamental air of Oscar, even in the beginning four looks, which featured structured coats in colors emblematic of Galliano’s spirit. The hair (there were several different styles) submitted to the code of Galliano, too–with its messy, wet, and oily demeanor, complimented by intentionally greasy eyes.
In the closing look, (a dress so Oscar, it would be hard to chalk it up to anything else,) the hair and makeup was a perfect compliment for a bright fuchsia wow gown, defying the stereotypes of formal wear. It was in the darker looks equipped with capes and dark velvet accents, which really spoke to Galliano’s style that softer hair and easier makeup was applied to signify the true test of teamwork.
Narciso Rodriguez is one of the more reliable designers sitting atop the upper echelons of fashion. He will never surprise you with something you don’t want to see and will always maintain that his clothes are for a minimalist, elegant woman, interested in wowing a room without actually wowing that room–kind of the same way I have recently found that the key to good street style is wearing something you’d wear any other day, not just because it’s fashion week and you feel your closet deserves a steroid injection.
And at Rodarte: holy heartbeat. The most majestic journey through the mid-90s into a fairy tale about (maybe?) Angela Chase (and definitely not Cher Horowitz) and an inspiration trip to both Barcelona (floral hairspiration) and Woodstock, injected by the accents figurative of a forest-laden fable. But wait, there’s more: hardware inspired accessories and the motorcycle trenches, jackets and layers that our collective dreams are made of. It’s quite impressive that even in spite of the adventure through so many different motifs, this collection remained succinct.
Reed Krakoff is the rare Thoreau (see: “simplify, simplify, simplify”) who can keep his clothes so basic and bare and yet still procure astonishment. Why wouldn’t we indulge in a full navy suit featuring lush silk to break up the fabric blocking? Or a silk crocodile print so rich, it falls rather close to the real thing on the spectrum of luxury. Better yet, why didn’t we think of it? And as for the breadwinners: those casual, cool structured bag and over-the-knee boots so perfect for every occasion, I reckon it will be hard to find even the one, ubiquitous, lonesome veto-er.
Finally, at Marchesa: shorter, tighter, more wearable dresses to make the prospect of formal gallivanting far more enticing. I’m not sure about you, but if and when I have to take off my jeans, it is only ever for a “Marchesa moment.” Shoot me for saying that, just go ahead.
The play on larger sleeves that manage to maintain a sultry neckline in almost every single instance and the intricate, lush embroidery that has become so wholly representative of the Marchesa aesthetic are well in play here and though beautiful, large, and capable of well, anything, my attention fell down to ankle length on a number of occasions (all royal, albeit) to admire the Christian Louboutin made-only-for-this-show heels in their palatial velvet glory. They featured three linear ankle straps to add a complimentary dose of dynamic power to the dresses that deserve it.