Finally! A Look at Céline Resort
And what’s more? It is better than chunky knits on a Saturday morning.
Remember last June when resort previews were being held all around New York City and as a direct result, your Instagram feed was moonlighting as a lower-resolution-yet-more-accessible mobile version of Style.com’s runway show tab? Me too! That was great! Only there was one pivotal piece of the vestiary* puzzle missing. It was highly apparent from day 1 and just became more flagrant through day 10, until finally, in an uproar, the Internet asked, “Earth to FASHION! Where in the good name of the French Riviera is Phoebe Philo’s collection for Céline, dammit?”
But this was certainly no oversight. The pundit very deliberately decided she would not allow preview attendees to photograph her most recent collection and so while The Chosen Ones were blessed with the opportunity to see the clothes in the flesh, that presentation felt akin to walking into a proctored room where the SATs are about to commence, only to be told that the use of writing utensils is prohibited. “Figure it out!” said proctor may exclaim, a note of schadenfreude all too detectable in her voice. And that was that.
Until now, when it just occurred to me last week that the Céline website itself has leaked images from resort. I realize it’s not so much a “leak” if they are willfully placed there as it is the act of plugging images into a website for public consumption but come on, let’s make this more fun than it already is. We’re in, people. We’re in.
And what do the findings indicate? That come November 1, when most resort collections begin spilling into stores, we’ll know it’s Céline if it could have been worn by Eliza Thornberry had she not been born on a piece of paper, as a cartoon, and instead bred in the 15th arrondissement of Paris after having taken extensive how-to-be-cooler-person classes from Daria Werbowy. This is evidenced by the sweeping safari references as demonstrated on the khaki coats, blouses and in the belts (some of which appeared in deuces on single garments). The anterior Thornberry would probably have to lose the braces and pigtails too.
Furthermore, you’ll know it’s Céline if it’s light blue, buttoned up or sheer and unbuttoned. There is also a new selection of Birkenstocks to continue us down the Gen. X fabricated corridor that makes you think: What Am I Doing Here and Why Do I Like It?
There is purple suede, a generous helping of black and white (one such nod to the former appears as a beautifully constructed, a-line, mid length skirt), and new cuts for the suiting emblematic of Céline under Philo’s reign, all of which continue to deflect the male gaze and allow us the choice to display — or not display — our extremities however we see fit.
It’s excellent, really.