Au revoir, Paris.
The city of lights was quiet this season. Honestly, I haven’t seen this many practical collections from the French in a LONG time. Normally, there are at least a few gonzo designers that pull out all the stops, but it seems that this season, everyone logged in on safe mode.
Still, there were a handful of nutty looks out there.
Here are the scrapings from the bottom of the barrel.
Comments follow pictures.
Ellery. It’s the “I just don’t give a crap about sucking in my gut any more” top. And check out the hem on that skirt. I’ve seen less ripples skipping stones on a pond. Also, her ankles REALLY need a shave. I know this is winter, but dang girl, you can borrow my clippers.
Comme des Garcon. I have no idea why someone would want to buy a giant, knitted, black, wool vagina, much less wear it in public, but maybe Rei Kawakubo knows something I don’t.
Jacquemus. If my dress came down with that unfortunate strain of measles, I’d probably have it euthanized just to end its suffering.
Manish Arora. “You guys! I’m totes unhappy ‘cause someone stole my Ring Pop at the rave! It’s a total bummer! I was totally working my mojo to some bangin’ dubstep when it happened so I didn’t really see who did it. Man, if it wasn’t for Skrillex on the ones and twos, this whole night would’a been a bust!”
Vionnet. A fashion equation:
Yohji Yamamoto. Whatever LSD Yohji drops before designing stuff like this must be high-grade because it takes one Hell of a powerful hallucinogen to crank out psychedelic concoctions like this. Timothy Leary is probably looking at this thing thinking, “Dang, even I wasn’t messed up enough to sample that kind of acid.”
OK, Kids, the good is up next; after that, I’ll be starting my pocket posts with some tutorials and nonsense. Stay tuned!!