Bryant Park has once again been descended upon by those who pontificate, espouse, predict, rename and LIVE for and by fashion. Its always interesting to watch the gradual overall wardrobe change that the intersection of 42nd and 6th Avenue goes through during this time of year. Its business as usual in the days prior to fashion week (men in ill-fitting business suits and shiny hard-soled lace-ups, women in two-piece business skirts with comfortable shoes). Then, as soon as the last stake is put in the dirt that erects what is known as "the tents", a complete fashion overhaul ensues, making this one city block the fashionista's equivalent of the Holy Grail (men in overlysexy body-conscious tailored suits and shirts- almost always in black- and women in attention-getting swaths of luxurious material and impossibly uncomfortable yet incredibly fashionable 'witch-sticks' they call stilettos). New York sees this twice a year. This time, its the Spring 2007 New York collections. This normally quiet park where the working stiff sits out on a nice blustery fall New York afternoon to eat their Au Bon Pain for lunch morphs into a bastion of editors, buyers, models, stylists, photographers, journalists, wannabees and gottabees. In a city of over 200 zip codes, 10018 is the only one that will matter for the next 8 days.
As a budding stylist (yes, I'm still a BUDDING stylist, thank you!), it becomes almost a game of cat and mouse to maneuver, politic, and strategize in order to gain entry to these venues and ogle over the latest sartorial incarnations of the fashion GODS that are Calvin, Donna, Vera, the TWO Johns (Bartlett AND Varvatos), Oscar, Zac and all the rest of the New York "ready-to-couture" clan. So, in plotting my plan to crash some shows and to also benefit from my access to FULL FRONTAL FASHION, here goes my take on the week that was...
Quite honestly the only event I was looking forward to in the weeks prior to fashion week was the Black Style Now exhibit at The Museum of the City Of New York (look for my review in a future entry of THE REAL RE-Edit). However, due to scheduling conflicts and a styling gig out of town for the first couple of days, I missed hobknobbing with the black culture/fashionista set on opening night, September 9th. So, I'll be going at some point this week.
There were a couple of collections that stood out for me this season, and interestingly enough, most of them centered around the themes of VOLUME
DE-CONSTRUCTED FEMININE ROMANTICISM
SUBTLE SEXUALITY
and considerably more subdued hues and less schtick in menswear lines. There were a couple of pleasant surprises and one label that is definitely vying for best new fashion contender.
The designer that was head and tails above all this season was Zac Posen.
Vera Wang ran a close second to Posen in presenting something that was a departure from what we've come to expect from her in the past and from American designers as a whole. While most designers were following the trend of allowing the volume of a piece overtake the body, Wang's creations had a flow that seemed to challenge the body to adapt to its fluidity. Most of the pieces were effortless, artful pieces the likes of which we haven't seen. While some of the looks may be a little tricky for the average fashion tart to pull off, Wang seems to lean toward the customer that sees fashion as art- not just fabric- and who wants to make a statement without shouting it at the top of her lungs. Her collection references a woman who is adept at making her fashion choices and will more than likely not see anyone else making those choices, all the while conveying an ease of wear and an artistic sensibility. It was fashion genius.
What followed was a well-edited worldly collection by Donna Karan that got back to her fashion mantra of interchangeable, decidedly feminine yet wholly wearable clothes that she made her bread and butter off of in her salad days. Though the collection still tells the story of a jet-setting woman, it is notsomuch the Upper East Side woman that heads into the boardroom daily as much as it is that same woman who has gone on an eye-opening trip around the world and whose fashion sensibilities have adapted as such. Her choice of silk and chamois were an interesting juxtaposition to the color scheme of khakis and creams-with a touch of earthen browns- which seemlessly bring her caftans from the desserts of Saudi Arabia into the harsh streets of New York City- and you get the feeling that they can definitely survive both. Something new from Donna...cool.
It seemed the trend for more fabric, less structure and more "give" permeated the runways of Badgley Mishka, Derek Lam, and the like. What was interesting was watching these rather malnourished models pushing down the runway swimming in dresses that more zaftig women would look flawless in. Even Diane Von Furstenberg, sole proprietor of the wrap dress, showed more volume in her collection than expected, while simultaneously playing with the miniskirt wrap dress.
On the menswear front, it appeared that a more pared-down, less exotic pendulum had swung through the collections of John Bartlett, Michael Kors and John Varvatos. Even the color palette lingered on the tan and grey end of the spectrum for the most part, with a splash of color thrown in for good measure. While I didn't expect the spectacle of say, Gaultier, Bikkenbergs or McQueen, I must say that it would seem as though the suits shown could use a little shot in the arm.
Although sportwear, menswear DID get a little exciting in the collection of Rock and Republic, and that's where the return of FLASH to the American ready-to-wear collections began. Michael Ball's collection for Rock and Republic took the late 80's Versace rock vibe and infused it with a dash of modern-day Euro-trash sex appeal. Tight jeans cut fuller in the seat and thighs and sweaters that accentuated gym-punished shoulders in the old John Bartlett way for today's HEALTH-CONSCIOUS guy. Denim poom-poom shorts made JUST RIGHT (the way Baby Phat WANTED to!) accompanied chic business suit jackets for today's STYLE-CONSCIOUS YET INSTRINICALLY SEXY young woman. In the age of Gwen Stefani, you have to up your "rock-star-fashionista" game; Rock and Republic did just that. Although the collection was a bit cliche at times, the story it told of bold brazen sexuality could not be denied. Unfortunately, one of the other stories it told was that this was NOT a collection for black girls, as there was not a SINGLE black female model on the runway.
Hmmm...
But black girls would not be ignored, and the FLASH continued on the Baby Phat runway. Kimora Lee Simmons, queen of ostentation, gave a little nod to overt bling by way of inserting "grills" into the models' mouths.
While its obvious that Simmons paid closer attention to the construction of her wares this season (thank GOD!), she MAY have struck gold with her accessories; the bags were great.
One fashion footnote that came as a somewhat of a suprise was what seemed like a record number of BLACK models on the New York runways. Not just the cafe au lait confection of say, a Liya Kibede, but the infusion of the darker-skinned Alek Weks and her ilk in shows that traditionally had not necessarily been using unapologetically DARK models. The catwalks of Marc Bauwer, Imitation of Christ, Badgley Mishka, Lacoste, to name a few, teemed with mahogany skin. To that, I must say THANK YOU ALEK WEK!!! Its one thing to have the "black barbie doll dipped in caramel" aesthetic of a Naomi Campbell (who was uncharacteristically low-key this week!) or the ethnic ambiguity of a Chrystele swiveling their hips as part of the designer's attempts to seduce editors and buyers, but to see beautiful DARK skin ramping down the runway speaks volumes as to what we as a country are finally opening up to as an expansion of what BEAUTY is. THANK YOU, Alek! As Trace magazine puts it- BLACK GIRLS RULE!!!
The other fashion suprise came in the form of CFDA finalist Costello Tagliapietra. To the untrained eye, Jeffrey Costello and Robert Tagliapietra appear to be tattooed musclebear daddies, whatwith their flannel lumberjack shirts, pork chop sideburns and hefty midsections. However, the beauty that they sent down the runway betrayed their backwoods getups. Not since my friend Andrew Nowell- all 6'3, 240 muscle-bound pounds of him (who does terrific menswear, by the way)- have I seen anyone physically defy the male fashion designer stereotype (i.e., the nonthreatening italian puff of Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana, the chiseled beauty of the twins from D Squared, the old-school highlighted homos known as Badgely Mischka, the brooding intellectualism of the dynamic duo that is Proenza Shouler, Austin Scarlett from Project Runway- need I say more?). And not since the day that I came across Costello Tagliapietra have I seen this defiance, dare I say stereotypical anomaly, begat such fashion elegance. Expertly draped and tailored jersey dresses, knitwear and separates is the LAST thing I would have thought would be the product of this decidedly masculinized pair. But it works, believe me.
Overall, while I'm no Robert Burke, Anna Wintour, Michael Fink, Nina Garcia, Linda Wells or Mr. Andre Leon Talley, I found this season to be chock full of editorial slam-dunks and commercial grand-slams. It makes me excited about fashion all over again. But that's what Fashion week is supposed to do, isn't it?
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