When you look at pills, they look so perfect, so pure. It’s hard to believe that each one comes with a list of side effects as long as your arm. --Damien Hirst
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Apart from the horn hair pieces that looked like spatulas sticking out from the models’ tiny heads, this was the most real-world collection we’ve seen in a while from Rick Owens. Working with a fine cotton (that looked like silk taffeta), Owens dropped his skirt hems flat to the ground where they swept the floor in sophisticated dignity. Tops, sliced from the American designer’s signature paper-thin leathers, had arches cut into their hems and were positioned as if part of a big sartorial puzzle. This architectural layering, in which each piece seemed to fit in the cracks of the next, continued even with the shorter length skirts, as well as the sleeveless stiff coats that gave off the regal drama of a space invader ice queen. Let’s welcome the new romantic Rick.
Holy Moly. Karl Lagerfeld went positively spotty at Chanel this morning, burning what looked like giant cigarette holes into the House's precious tweed jackets and poking small dots into washed black denim jeans. That started a graphic game of black, blue and white, as the black or navy pierced garments allowed stiff white cotton shirts or dresses to gleam through the darkness. Though the tattered tweeds and jeans, not to mention platforms that looked like boat-barges, gave the proceedings a youthful flair, there were still plenty of pieces for Chanel's established ladies of all seasons. Take for example the mid calf cocktail dresses fashioned out of stiff black crinoline or the black sheer dresses, which sprouted dramatically long, feathered collars and shoulders. And as for the tweed hot pants paired with cropped metallic trimmed jackets? Well let's just say that they'd suit any woman with a killer set of bronzed legs.
Just before the start of Jean Paul Gaultier's swan song at Hermès, the curtains of the Halle Freyssinet were pulled back to reveal a paddock where eight gleaming stallions were trotting and sidestepping underneath a ceiling of crystal chandeliers. It was a perfectly pitched backdrop to a collection that was as effortlessly elegant as it was true to the haute and horsey legacy of the French brand. The models wore increasingly sophisticated variations on riding outfits, including skin-tight riding pants, billowing silk shirts and belted jackets in leather or silk chiffon. The pants were tucked in to either flat or high-heeled riding boots – an Hermès staple – when not paired with open toed booties. Each look, including long jersey dresses with chiffon capes, was rendered in a muted earth tone and was the essence of pared-down sophistication. Riding crops and flat Spanish matador hats, meanwhile, gave the collection a subtle frisson of sex.
There is so much to love at a Lanvin show that we are forced with the unwelcome problem of how to discuss all of the magic in these brief few lines. We will confine our enthusiasm to the beginning and the end, which is really where designer Alber Elbaz made the most buzz this season. The first looks took themes of sport and couture to dizzying new heights. Elbaz used a compact, sporty material for racer backed tank tops with leather harness detail that were affixed to goddess silk skirts that flowed behind the models as if powered by an air machine. Our second skin tingling moment was his African power queen posse: 5 striking black girls stalking the runway in leaf printed silk outfits
