Chanel’s green hat and Dior’s kirby grips (bobby pins)
It is all glamour, this flying hither and yon in search of Fantastic Fashion—and Fabulous Food.
No question.
Early in February, I flew to New York on American Airlines for the Academy of Art University’s graduate show during Fashion Week.
I was served the most disgusting meal of my life, including a burnt-sienna mess oozing from a soggy bun, pulled pork (aka an American Classic), and a raw-sienna phallus. After removing the outer crust of the latter, out of sheer curiosity, there lay a warm, limp pickle that had been deep-fried earlier in the week.
Soon after, I flew to London on Sir Richard Branson’s airline which was a definite improvement. Maybe that’s why he was knighted.
The mood in the Old World was positive after the gloom of the New World.
Great Britain has not lost the Empire. The Empire is in Britain, in London, in Birmingham, and hanging out at Heathrow Airport. English is the second language.
Eastern Europe has also arrived en masse because the concept of queuing has not yet been explained to Balkans and Poles.
(English people love an orderly queue, even on a beach to watch the sunset.)
Carla Sozzani wearing Azzedine Alaïa’s zipped and nipped dress and flat boots; “Why should we suffer?!”
Paris is a short train ride away, barely time to eat lunch. This may, in part, explain why most French people are narrow. They wear narrow pants, narrow overcoats, dark tights, and expose not a sliver of flesh.
Fur is everywhere. So are fur protestors. Their slogan is FUR IS DEAD, which, when you consider the alternative, is just as well.
This season, fashion editors from Paris, London, Beijing sported the long-haired Goat Coat in pink, black, and brown—swearing that goat is not fur.
The more things change, the more they remain the same.
In January 1991, at the time of the first Gulf War, Americans were too scared to fly, and the Arabs were ordered to stay at home (and many cross princesses were clamouring for videos). Flights from Asia were routed over Russia.
The Paris Haute Couture shows went on regardless; each one bursting to capacity, though the front row was filled with unknown faces.
In March 2009, I noticed a similar situation. Many Americans were missing, but the shows were full, and the scrum to get in—with or without an invitation—reached crisis pitch, verging on desperation.
Over nine days, the official fashion calendar listed ninety shows. Needless to say, I missed a few.
ELEGANT AND FRENCH
—Chanel (Karl Lagerfeld)—Fresh and chic as ever; totally wearable; mostly black and white, with a touch of pink and jade.
It must be noted that the jade green hats may not go down well in China because they signify an unfaithful spouse—a true embarrassment years ago when Queen Elizabeth II descended from her plane in Hong Kong wearing a green hat, followed by Prince Phillip.
—Christian Dior (John Galliano)—Another delightful and wearable collection; an ode to Paul Poiret; witty hairdos sculpted with bobby pins or kirby grips, which became popular in the 1920s when women bobbed their hair. (Note: There is an all women’s pop rock group in the Bay Area called Kirby Grips.)
—Yves Saint Laurent (Stefano Pilati)—A gorgeous black-and-white collection with discreet references to Yves and lots of black leather. Many former YSL set attended, Loulou de la Falaise, Betty Catroux, Dominique Deroche, Connie Uzzo. It was interesting to note that Dominique and Connie stood at the back—sending the message that they belonged to “the family.”
On that note, Gaël Mamine of the Pierre Bergé – Yves Saint Laurent Foundation at 5 Avenue Marceau, gave me a sneak preview of the organization’s exhibition of Russian Folk Costumes from St. Petersburg, which opened March 18, complete with an installation of a dacha. It is somewhat reminiscent of the 1976 Yves Saint Laurent’s Russian collection. The exhibition will remain open until August 30.
NO! NON! *YA! On March 10th Alexander McQueen put a woman in a mask. Two days earlier, Afghan women in Kandahar celebrated the return of the burka. *(YA is “No” in Pashto, the language of Afghanistan.)
—Lanvin (Alber Elbaz)—Brilliant cut and exquisite shapes; alas, I was late for this show, thanks to Pamela Anderson’s tardiness (see Westwood); the only spot I found was on a high balcony.
—Karl Lagerfeld shows his darker yet classy side, his German side, and great sense of humour.
—Dries Van Noten—Classic pieces in delicious spice and lilac shades.
—Hermès (Jean Paul Gaultier)—At last the time has come for real luxury for the Amelia Earhardt traveler who understands discretion but chooses not to flaunt wealth.
—Sonia Rykiel—Back in her Left Bank boutique, the perfect setting for cheeky, sexy, and totally Parisienne fashion modeled by tipsy girls who made hilarious comments to the audience.
—Christian Lacroix—Where the little black dress is now navy blue; an alum from the Academy of Art University, Christine Ligan, is the assistant textile designer showing bold prints.
—Azzedine Alaïa—Though he showed after I had left Paris, one afternoon spent with his muse, Carla Sozzani of Corso Como 10 (Milan’s best shopping destination), provided a perfect preview. While everyone is copying Alaïa’s ’80s style (including the Big Shoulder), Azzedine never looks back.
JAPANESE AND DIVINE
—Junya Watanabe—My favorite; the most creative silhouettes, based on the Michelin Man turned into a goddess; the collection was accompanied by the opera Tosca.
—Comme des Garçons (Rei Kawakubo)—My other favorite; blankets folded into surprising and gorgeous shapes, sometimes seams added with a crayon.
—Kenzo (Antonio Marras)—Enchanting knits and charming Russian folkloric shapes (right on the Pierre Bergé Foundation’s Russian exhibition).
—Issey Miyake (Dai Fujiwara)—Based on karate, plus a series of delicious striped chiffon dresses that fluttered and flattered.
—Yohji Yamamoto—Mostly black, with flat red shoes, and a few brilliant beautiful red outfits.
OLD HAT AND BRITISH
—Alexander McQueen—Boring old bondage, S&M, pastiche of Dior, and rehash from his archives.
—Vivienne Westwood—Tutus and knickers (as in underwear); Pamela Anderson on the catwalk; need one say more?
—Stella McCartney—Mannish jackets over silky lingerie—a running theme since Stella’s student days at St. Martins, when her mother, Linda Eastman, then still alive, loaned her lace-trimmed satin slips as inspiration.
FINISHING NOTABLES
As for the shoes causing disputes and distress, can they get higher? Probably.
“Why should we suffer?” demanded Carla Sozzani, who wears dainty flat boots and always looks happy. (Anyone—including models—whose feet hurt look totally miserable).
Why indeed? Let me end on a delicious note.
The best French fare can be found at La Cordonnerie, 20 rue Saint Roch (75001), where the young owner/chef Wolfer Hugo serves up mouthwatering food. The restaurant only seats twenty-four people, so it is best to telephone (01 42 60 17 42), and if you enjoy watching a cooking demonstration by a master chef, ask for one of three tables next to the stove and chopping board.
In April Gladys Perint Palmer’s BFA fashion students at the Academy of Art University parade their Graduation Fashion Show; and her son, Barnaby Palmer, conducts Rigoletto.
