This is what he looks like. [cough] In 1998. Does anyone know the face who brings awe, envy and lust in every single collection of his? Beats me. But damn, a mysterious man is always sexy!
"Many people have seen him, and in fact longtime store buyers and editors often recognize him sitting in the audience at his shows. Tall and classically handsome, he wears his own version of a uniform, often a tight black sweater in the winter or a T-shirt in summer, with Levi’s and a dark cap pulled down low over his eyes." [source, NY Times]
Before we could even don our chests with our initials-- Miuccia drops a stunner. I love the historic prints, & I want to take it home. Speaking of Miu Miu! I am saving for a Bowler. Food is not essential. Food is not essential. Food is not essential. Repeat after me!
An export from Martinique, newcomer/impending it-girl Sigrid Agren is causing sporadic buzz after closing Prada, opening Yves Saint Laurent and Karl Lagerfeld-- and has booked almost all major shows to date. The French blonde also nabbed Teen Vogue, July's Flair magazine and her resume is blossoming by the hour. Yes. Another chic French. Justice!
New York Model Management / Elite Milan / Elite Paris
What Karl would wear if he were to be reincarnated as a woman-- strip away the sexy accoutrements that may/may not double as weaponry; you have an army of the lanky clad in geometrical numbers with a strong belted waist, Lagerfeld classics (high-neck white button-downs over slinky noir pants/skirt), attention to hip detail with triple-tier of different fabrics, unadulterated cuffed shoes and a metal palette to round off the vibe.
Stefano Pilati is, indubitably-- in the higher echelons when it comes to precise, immaculately done tailoring. Aside from the shot of coyly sexy elegance in the form of reworked YSL classics (several versions of the slim-cut drop-crotch pants, clean-cut pantsuits with fresher silhouettes-- grr?), Stefano Pilati will always be God in my book.
An arty arcane movement, the opening numbers slide openly sexy dresses with whimsy prints tampered over, then to the more worked pieces, with fabrics revived into a demure architectural piece, and onwards to the multiple array of fabric textures with hemlines riding high. Futuristic-car prints, street scenes.. all is enclosed. The end, though, was spectacular-- with a minidress molded as if in motion.
One of the underrated, prolific designers in Paris gives us a piece of the finer slice of Paris FW. It started with a sombre palette, with little intricate details caging the ribcage, an angular zipper closure over refined leather jackets with raw edges (sleeves pulled up, nonetheless..), sheer fabric draping over meager calves that transcend into a burgundy, midnight-blue mixture of swagger in Grecian drapery over the closing dresses.
My, my Ricardo Tisci! It was girly, racy, vulgar entrenched in sharp tailoring, but mainly outright disjointed. A little Balmain-- echoed use of leather, sheer lace on the ribcage, jeans/leather mixes (dear God, help us all) and a couple of dusty pink numbers slipped in between the scattered line-up invites little awe and much confusion.