General Fashion (Page 7)

Does anyone remember a little film called The Craft, a tale of four goth-y, snarky teen witches and the classmates that they hated? You have to think back almost 15 years, to a time when I was merely a tween exploring my burgeoning love of black clothing that I have come to embrace now, at this later juncture in my life. I didn’t have any social problems in school, but I loved the idea of being disaffected and misunderstood. It seemed like all the coolest people were, at least in the movies, and it also seemed like something that was easy enough to strive for. Obviously, I loved The Craft.

Alexander Wang says that his Fall/Winter 2010 collection was inspired by Wall Street’s Masters of the Universe, but I think he might have secretly been a fan of a certain coven of mid-90s conjurers as well. The only things this collection missed were suspenders and Fairuza Balk.

Do you feel that special tingle in the air? Smell that scent – the combined perfumes of a thousand magazine editors and well-heeled fashionistas, waiting impatiently in an enclosed space? Sense the Earth itself spinning ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptibly out of its natural orbit? Only one thing can be to blame: the advent of New York Fashion Week.

While my compatriots up north trudge through the snow and wait on line for the crashers in front of them to get turned away, I’ll be lounging in my climate-controlled apartment, eating pita chips and drinking white wine that came from a screw-top bottle (I’m not ashamed). I’ll see the same collections that they do, with a wait of about an hour before the images make it to the internet, and I’ll probably have a better view (make no mistake, the “compatriots” to which I refer are not front-row people). So won’t you join me? I’ve got a few good reasons that you really should.

A day before the Rebecca Minkoff Fall 2010 presentation was slated to begin, Rebecca herself tweeted, “Who is afraid of a little snow??? The show must go on!” Well, that was before “a little snow” turned out to be a full-on blizzard that was enough to close all public and private schools and universities in Manhattan save for Columbia University (thanks guys.)

Therefore, if I was going to have classes as the snow frantically swirled around the city, I was going to make it to the Rebecca Minkoff presentation. Needless to say, I did make it despite my dislike of the cold and of the coldness of the snow, and it was extremely worth it. You see, I’ve been to a few traditional presentations, where the models stand on raised platforms and generally achieve a death stare whilst remaining in the same position. But no, this show switched it up, and the models were bubbly, twisting and turning at various intervals to show off the funky wares.

Alexander McQueen, magnificent designer and creative role model to thousands of fashion lovers, has died of an apparent suicide. He was 40 years old.

It would be disingenuous, at this juncture, to speculate about what McQueen’s legacy will be or what impact his all-too-soon death will have, but if there is one thing I can say for sure, it’s that the world still needs Alexander McQueen.

To finish out Paris Couture Week, I thought it might be nice to have something that’s not at all intellectual or challenging. If as many of you guys go out on Thursday nights as the people in my group of friends, then Friday morning is not the time to be looking at and making sense of Difficult Fashion. No no, Friday is the time for obvious things.

So, for the princess/teenage prom-goer/Oscar-winner in all of us, Elie Saab Haute Couture has the beaded, tulle’d ball gown that we’ve always wanted. In case you don’t have an occasion to which to wear a ball grown, there are a few super sparkly, pastel cocktail dresses as well, but don’t worry, they don’t skimp on the beading or tulle. Ever for someone like me, an Alexander McQueen fangirl that likes things dark and edgy if at all possible, it’s unquestionably fun to drool over something girl and light every now and then. Here’s your chance, folks.

To (very loosely) paraphrase the great Raymond Carver, Jean Paul Gaultier is what we talk about when we talk about couture. In a week of shows that have left me at times both dazzled and underwhelmed (Valentino, I’m looking at you), Gaultier showed up just in time to remind us all exactly why we’re here: because only a handful of people on the face of the planet are capable of so masterfully creating clothes that make us dream.

That’s exactly what we got with this woven, corseted, sombrero’d Mexico-meets-Avatar collection of things that no one could ever wear out into the real world, except for maybe Daphne Guinness and Lady Gaga. But the beauty of couture is that no one needs to wear most of it, which unshackles the designers and enables them to create truly resplendent and inspiring clothes-art without the burden of functionality (or the burden of reality, for that matter).

I’m…I’m underwhelmed. And a little sad, maybe. But mostly confused. Is this what Valentino Haute Couture is supposed to look like? Are they serious? I think we’ve been tricked. Fooled. Bamboozled.

It kind of reminds me of what would happen if Balenciaga and Valentino had a baby (the term ‘Valenciaga’ has already been coined elsewhere, I can’t take credit for it), and a few of the tight minidresses are reminiscent of Herve Leger, particularly with the neon inserts that were also in the previous Leger spring collection. Which is all fine and good, except neither of those designers make couture – they do a dandy job at pret-a-porter, but this is couture week, people.