After looking around at the rest of the shows in Paris, I find I have not much to say. So little originality, as the peasants like to say these days, "meh."
The Valentino show was, like the Chanel show, pleasant. I gather there is a new designer in charge, Alessandra Facchinetti, and she has a great deal to learn. While this traditional red gown was certainly the sort of thing one slavers over:
WHAT is one to make of this? Is the model wearing the box from the atelier's new air conditioner? Is this what all that "carbon footprint" nonsense is about?
Or perhaps her dress was missing and she had to hastily pull on a garment bag from backstage.
One has a sudden urge to tip her over, the way young hooligans do with cows out in the far country. Meanwhile, at the Gaultier show, one had the sense that the front row snored through most of this one:
Mon dieu, can't the man design more creatively than this? Just looking through the photos left me rigid with boredom.
That's that for your faithful correspondent...the rest of the shows do not bear writing about, and I'd much rather glance through fashion magazines while listening to the ocean.
Until we meet again,
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
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