Bonjour mes amis! And how are we now that fashion month has come to a close? My balls are on fire, so I’ll definitely be investing in some botox for the soles next season… although you know what they say dolls, in the words of the crazy/beautiful Paloma Faith, “COMFORT IS FOR CUNTS.”
Now that I’ve got that profanity out of the way, I guess I’ll get on with the Parisian designer showdown- although, this time it wasn’t just the designers who were getting in on the sparring action. Heidi Slimane, the new head honcho at Yves Saint Laurent- sorry, Saint Laurent Paris- ruffled more than a few feathers when he banned New York Times fashion critic Cathy Horyn from attending his debut show. According to Cathy, the reason behind Heidi’s bitch fit (he has a girl’s name for a reason) dates back to 2004, when she wrote in one column, “Without Mr [Raf] Simons' template of slim tailoring and street casting, there would not have been a Heidi Slimane.” Now where was the harm in that?
Wellllll dolls, Slimane and Simons are long-standing rivals, apaz. Both 44 (32 in fashion years), both started out in menswear, both showing their debut ready-to-wear collections for equally massive fashion houses this season. Makes sense, dunnit?
Never one to take things lying down, Monsieur Slimane then took another pop at Caf, mocking up a faux NY Times page which brands her “a schoolyard bully”, “a stand-up comedienne” and states that she’ll never get a seat at YSL, however she might get a 2-for-1 special at Dior. Mioooooow! Why have I never thought to fight fire with fire through the pages of a mocked-up magazine before?!
Anyway, with that fash fight remaining unresolved, let’s check out the runway! Drum roll puh-leeease for my top five PFW power playas!
A relative newbie to the Paris fashion scene, Vaccarello trained under THEE Karl Lagerfeld, so his reputation perhaps precedes his own collections. Thankfully, he more than meets the sky high expectations bestowed upon him!
His supermodel line-up was far superior to any F-Row; Anja, Arizona, Cara, Jourdan, Karlie. And his collection? Monochrome vs. molten metallic. Part Une had a chic utilitarian feel, loose fitting pants teamed with sharp tailored blazers, oversized shirts with miniskirts, zips and pockets aplenty. Then the sequins crept in, subtly in black at first, then gold and sexy iridescent leopard prints. RAWR.
The piece de resistance? Anja Rubik in a black slashed-to-the-thigh gown, not too dissimilar to the white Vaccarello maxi she rocked at this year’s Met Gala. Pure. Sex.
Perhaps I’ve become too engrossed in the new version of Dallas, but I’m currently lusting after Balmain’s power shoulders like Britney craves In And Out Burger. What else was on offer? Leather, laser cutting and Beetlejuice stripes. Playing with proportions, those masculine shoulders were given mini hemlines, wideleg pants were teamed with crop tops and skinny trews were teamed with oversized blazers.
The zany patterns might not be to everyone’s taste, but personally I’d love to take a bite of head designer Olivier Rousteing…
Marc Jacobs is a man who knows how to put on a show. Fresh from wowing with last season’s steam train, and the Kate Moss carousel the season before, what tricks did the honorary Frenchman have up his sleeve?
Escalators. Four huge escalators which models rode up and down into the courtyard at the Louvre, on to a yellow and white checkerboard floor. And it seemed that checks were the theme of this season’s show, as Louis V’s iconic monogram was replaced by their signature Damier canvas.
Black, white, yellow, green, see-through, YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST, IT’S COOL TO BE SQUARE! Oriental floral patterns were the only variation from MJ’s geek chic chessboard, with shapes kept straight and simple; pencil skirt suits, ¾ sleeved shift dresses and the occasional block colour to balance things out. But, in all honesty, who cares about the collection when the presentation is this fabulous?
Sarah Burton brought honey to the bee and sex back to McQueen with her latest collection. From the video of live bees playing behind the runway, to the beekeeper hat-come-masks and honeycomb inspired prints, girl done good. With emphasis on the waist and an hourglass shape, created by amber belts and structured peplums, Ms. Burton showed that she wasn’t all Royal Wedding frocks and nice girl designs. Instead she created a collection which the flamboyant Alexander himself would have sent down the runway.
The hats and stripper heels added that fetish element the house is known for, as did caged bodices and shackle-style wrist cuffs. Crinoline skirts resembling cages definitely had the 50 Shades factor, and even the softer prom dresses, for all their beauty, were worn with a flash of bra. Kinky biatch!
A hula hoop handbag? I’ll take two! Any designer who creates an It bag I can also exercise with is a fucking genius… Enter Karl Lagerfeld. With his runway of solar panels and wind turbines, was the King of Fashion getting all eco-friendly on our asses? Not a chance. But they made a pretty cool backdrop.
The show was all about Chanel’s iconic pearls, adorning box jackets in their hundreds, wrists and necks in their thousands, and placed singularly atop the models’ bun hairstyles. It was a fun runway, filled with colour, leather and the classic boucle the house is known for. Models carried with wide Perspex brims, swimwear was cut-out with the signature double “C”, and THAT BAG was just unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. AND THIS IS COMING FROM THE DOLL WHO HAS EVERYTHING!
The only questionable part of the show came with the sheer black feather-trimmed clown suit. I mean really? Who sites “gothic Big Bird” as their style icon? However, I’m willing to overlook this misdemeanour thanks to J-Lo and her adorable four-year-old daughter Emme on the F-Row. It’s not what you know, but who’s rocking your couture!
‘Til next time dolls… go take a fashion shower!
Love Barbie x