Boxtrot

May I remind you: It's 2012. It's so de rigueur to go slinky and slim, or hip-grazing and flouncy. Let's study shapes that are architectural--flares, spires, arches, boxes. Forgive me if I'm using this word all over the place, but it feels especially modern to see shapes other than the hourglass.

I just finished an article in February's Bazaar called "Spring's New Look," comparing, of course, Dior's watershed 1947 New Look with styles from the spring 2012 runways. This year we saw updated versions of the paradigm shifting collection of "exaggerated womanly looks that outmoded the spartan wartime silhouette and provided the broad strokes for the elegant uniform of the baby-boom era". Now, Rochas, Dior 2012, and Jonathan Sanders might have created looks that could have appealed to a clientele in 1947, but in this post, we're going to obsess over the very-new millennium looks.

Balenciaga hooked me, hard. Classic and of-the-moment at the same time. The fabrics look like neoprene-silk. The shoes, phenomenal; sculptural and almost utilitarian in their reference to boots.

Simple, uniform hair and an artillery of wrist decorations.

More Balenciaga- this helmet-like hat might prove too theatrical for life off of the set, but it reminds me of a shield, or hood--perhaps a wartime reference. The patches of fabric sewn together inspire an image of  rationing; an important factor the original New Look followed. The altogether surplus of fabric seen with the Band of Outsiders look (right) could possibly reference the end (or hopeful cessation) of conflicts abroad with the inclusion of extra yardage-- a shape reminiscent of tunics-- and red and white pants that mimic the colors of a traditional bidah. 

Phillip Lim 3.1 took things to an airier place. The fluid cuts spoke volumes of modernity. The wearer is not weighed down by constraints, or notions of femininity. She is bold while being relaxed, pulled together without ties or attachments. The ends always taper to a slim, defined point.

Celine's collection was also a study in strength and shape. I'm reminded a bit of nun's habits here--or the idea of a uniform. (Note the shoes are the same.) Wouldn't be too terrible to have to wear either creation day after day. As little as two generations prior, our grandmothers might have had just one day dress. We're not so far away in time.     

The Epiphany

*Reposting this from my other [poetry and musings] blog. I thought I'd honor its birthday with a little facelift.

Some weeks ago I had an experience that doesn't sound like it should have been life-changing; I went to a hair salon. It wasn’t packaged in a Lower East Side tenement-turned-beauty parlor, or amidst the next we-swear-its up-and-coming pocket in Brooklyn. It was on Fifth Avenue in The Plaza Hotel: the Warren-Tricomi Salon.

I remember exactly what I was wearing, a key in my mind that usually signifies some noteworthy occasion. At the 8th grade Christmas dance I wore a silky brown miniskirt with an off-white angora sweater and flip-flops (cringe), a pale blue kimono from Melrose Avenue to my 23rd birthday, and high-waisted silk pants with espadrilles and an opaque black top to the first fashion show I shot. In my closet I have the perfect black 1950s dress to wear to the offices of Vogue. But on that particular day I donned a shearling coat, long black velvet skirt, a Chanel-inspired green woven jacket and a terribly vintage—but very cute—grey felt hat. Eloise could have gotten away with the outfit, were she 25 and dealing with a pauper’s budget. I rode the train that morning to work reading a Bazaar Special Runway Report, and took my time with a profile of Linda Fargo, the senior Vice President of Bergdorf Goodman and front row Fashion Week staple. The day had started typically enough. I checked my email and followed-up on a lead for a TimeOut New York article. By seven that night I was waltzing through gilded marble hallways and up red velvet steps.

When I met stylist Edward Tricomi, the subject of our TONY writeup, I mistook him for the reincarnated spirit of Mick Jagger before realizing besides that being impossible, none other than Linda Fargo was sitting in the chair he beckoned me to visit. How could it be that the subject of my morning meditation should be sitting in front of me less than eight hours later? It was then that the epiphany occurred: You have no idea what adventures are in store each day. Because of this, you must be prepared.

But how? I was right to have read up on Edward and the salon before embarking on the interview. If there’s a journalist that wouldn’t have I hope we never meet. As for the Linda connection, I believe it was both chance and fate, two words I ascribe to the same thing. The cosmos aligned and our three planets converged simply because the time and the universe had moved in such a way. Though Edward and I hit it off during the ensuing hour-long interview, I doubt Linda registered my name in the seven minutes it took for her to get her platinum silver hair trimmed. This epiphany wasn’t a celebrity encounter, far from it: I simply hadn’t noticed I was barreling though space during the past few months filled with endless work days and quick weekends with the typical distractions of a New York twenty-something (where do we eat? Can I make rent if I buy these boots? Why is the library waiting list for The Corrections so long? Shouldn’t they have extra copies?) The evening was proof.

It’s not to say I don’t try to slow down and refocus amidst the bombardment of everyday life. What I was reminded of was the glorious nature of chance. I had been moving towards that moment my whole life, since the days I’d spent writing poetry in a collaged journal and clipping cerulean and lime Narciso Rodriguez creations from the first fashion magazine my mother ever gave me (it was, coincidentally, Bazaar). The runway recaps I wrote though college, first in the student newspaper then in a local weekly paper garnered experience and research that made my transition to New York an easy one. But along the way, with all my plans and dreams and aspirations I forgot to budget for surprise, which of course needs only a seam to permeate.

Cropped Up

I'm going to have to start doing some sit ups. 

Top row: D&G. Middle: Donna Karan, Proenza Schouler. Bottom: Pucci, Nina Ricci. 

What's In a Name?

Bondi beach meets rococo style. Strip your pretensions, put on a suit

(nylon or silk, your pick). Ima have to ask you to zip it either way. Keep it tight.

I fell in love with Fendi's artistic fall 2010-2011 ad campaign last year, which reminds me of the way I deign to live my life here in New York. I would rather live surrounded only by works of substantial art, slow as they come, rather than subscribe to a lifestyle of fool's gold and glitz.   

Pale Pallor

No snow on the ground just yet, but that won't stop us from the adoration of its hue: white.

There's something dangerous about wearing white. You have to be mindful of all your moves. Where do I sit? Can I sit? I can't order pasta, red wine, or anything drizzled in chocolate sauce. (You might think it's not worth it, just based on that.) But, it's so chic!

I'm already a huge fan of monochromatic looks, though I admit I'm tired of seeing all-black get-ups on the street (or on me). For spring, I'm going with top to toe white, especially with direction seen here from the runway. Gradations of color, tiny silver boots, and-pop!- the use of one colorful accessory is too tempting (and easy) to pass up.

Karl Lagerfeld's use the hue for Chanel was simply gorgeous:

... and diaphonous and ethereal and...like a pearl. Just check out the set:

Attention to detail & unified theme, perfect:

Plus, Lagerfeld didn't use unadulterated white. There were gradations of pale blush, blue, and grey. It's a timeless way of dressing. I can imagine looking back at these photos in five decades and still being impressed with their beauty.

Hakaan went less lady-like with his use of white, and definitely embraced the year 2012. This peplum-hipped birdcage skirt reminds me of a 21st Century Mad Max, especially with the shoes.

The color here is a brilliant white, as was the lighting. I think it helps with the crispness of the look. Otherwise, it might look a but like a crocheted skirt made by grandma.

This last look might be my favorite. (I'm such a fan of Ports 1961, can't you tell?) It's just so clean.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that the accordion purse is gorgeous and hello- so are the shoes. Luckily they'll work with my blush Ports dress from the last post... both are which sit in my virtual dreamworld wardrobe.

Tangerine Dream & Sci-Fi Florals

One of the lovely truths about spring dressing is that its prescribed Fashion Week takes place in the midst of what is typically a dreary, cold fall (though that wasn't the case this year. Thank you, global warming). Time to dream of sunny backdrops and future attire.

One of the freshest hues to come off the runway for spring was the shade of burning sunset, a blush tangerine:

Ports 1961 does tailoring so well. Not only is this peach dress a phenomenal hue, but it's cut to perfection. Paired with simple red and black heels that are just as sleek, the look is minimalism at its best. 3.1 Phillip Lim has its own recipe: white, blush, and lavender silk.

Why hello, J. Crew. Nice to see you looking fantastic in the showroom. Ok, so I'm not done with my tangerine obsession but let's take a moment to ingest this gorgeous lemon skirt. Again, we're seeing a modern approach to color--it's bold but sleek. Note the yellow shoes and white purse. No black, clean hair and makeup. The second look incorporates a few of this season's trends: the peplum, the printed two piece, and gorgeous sci-fi florals.

Valentino's blushy strapless dress is another example of  the power of an intense color, one that I can't help but compare to Jil Sander's dress from spring 2011 (right). They're both perfect. I think the Valentino can appeal to an older woman, while Raf Simons' rotund cut requires a svelte, younger frame and possibly the disposition to want to pull it off. 

And alas, Peter Som's acid floral dress, replete with turquoise oxfords. 

let's talk shop

Prada shop. I go immediately to Milan when I hear the name, see tawny, bronzed shoulders sloping with easy elegance. This spring's looks were some of the most exciting I've seen from the house recently. Part Milanese housewife, part tri-athlete toting stones of colored jewels. It had me convinced.

I loved the unexpected modernity of this collection which, we should point out, included pleated skirts, '60s style leather purses, and pinwheel lace. It was ladylike but tough. There was more than one leather skirt, plenty of midriff, and the most convincing female rendition of the thunderbird slick-back I've ever seen. (Bonus points for those of us growing out our bangs.)