I have a confession to make: I have absolutely no principles in front of beauty. I swore to myself: 1. Never indulge in the pleasure of seeing, touching, and feeling delicacies, 2. never surrender myself to self-organized and powerful construction, 3. never be carried away by fine artistry and excellency, 4. never give away a compliment to any of the above, 5. never throw money into any of the above. Well if you know me too well, you know in what area and to which brand in particular these rules apply. Everything broke down today in a secret display room. I was wow’ed (again) by Stefano Pilati (if this guy is still on the verge of employment) as soon as the sample pieces from the 2011 prefall collection came to sight. They smelled history. They smelled story. They smelled subdual and subversion, order and the outlaws. As the models dressing in super streamlined gowns were walking all over the lobby, I tried almost everything on in the room above. At one point my salesman got so excited that he even jumped into one of the knit sweaters and sought comfort in the fox fur collar (and it sooooo shook my long belief that he was not gay…). Now to cut the crap, here are the strongest points of the collection:
1. The really OVERsized fox fur hoods: literally, they are the size of your upper body. You can burry your head into them or let them dangle on you back like a super furry animal. But really there is no weight. They are attached to minimalistic tanks/vests, creating a surrealist feel – the way it wraps around reminded me of Meret Oppenheimer’s furry cup; while the luster and the movement of the fur was completely modern. An achronism.
2. the subtle embroidery: printed shirts and patterned skirts fill up the market. But in the display room, who would think the tiny little dots in a chiffon blouse, and the graphic pattern on a tulle skirt were actaully made up of stitches! And when sequin is an IT word in current fashion business, they hide it underneath tiles of stripes. It seems as if a sceret stream is underneath, winking and blinking as you move around. A fur vest does a third wonder. The french people has a right to be arrogant, for they can “grow” fur on a knit.
3. The printed blouses: The patterns are borrowed from oil paintings from the orient. that’s why they are called the Opium. Now again there is a contrast, the fine muslin creats an illusion of clouds around your body, while the print brings out the sultry flavor. I wouldn’t say it was as dark or tart as Portishead; it was as hazy as Elbow, while as fluid as Hooverphonic..
4. Then there comes the HIGH fidelity Yves saint laurent part, of which I’m sure there is a cult people out there but I will just excuse myself..
That is pretty much all that kept me hyper the entire afternoon. I ended up ordering a chunky knit sweater coat with fox collar and an ingenius jumpsuit adaptation of the original LeSmoking suit.
Now as the valentine’s day is around the corner, I need to ask, is it just my boredomness or real that I take shopping as a recreation.. especially with a good playmate like Mr. John (Australiano)…This guy, to whom I owe all my gratitute this evening, spoiled me with every piece of sexy dress and leather and fur in the secluded room up on the second floor of Fendi boutique. I seriously miss the time when I played dress-up with Ms. Claire. Now that feeling has striken back only more wildly with Mr. John. He said, the first time I saw you, there’s one word in my head: …captivating. Oh mister, that is one word that lightens up my typical, miserable life as a self-indulgent nerd, especially at this time of year.
