DAHLINGS -
I have little to write about Day Four of Mercedes Benz Fashion Week. It was the tenth anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers on September 11th. Even though the torrent of media jibber-jabber and one-day-only patriotism incensed moi, it seemed disrespectful to go to the tents.
Instead, I went to the Firemen's Memorial Ceremony on 100th Street.
Because of that, I missed Diane von Furstenberg, Custo Barcelona, and Tommy Hilfiger, among others.
No regrets.
Ciao,
Elisa
Showing posts with label Diane Von Furstenberg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diane Von Furstenberg. Show all posts
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Monday, February 15, 2010
Fashion Week Fall 2010 Day Four Report
DAHLINGS -
I arose from my sickbed to return the Bryant Park tents because I know that is what all of my faithful readers demand from me. What would Fashion Week be without my discerning eye and my desire to bring all of it to you, mes fidèles lecteurs? A hollow shell, that’s what.
The untimely death of the genius designer Alexander McQueen has left a pall over New York Fashion Week. The atmosphere isn’t exactly grim, but it is definitely there. On Thursday, each show began with a moment of silence to acknowledge his passing.
I was supposed to start my day with the Simon Spurr show. But in the words of the late, unlamented Phil Rizzuto “WW (wasn’t watching).” It was almost too much to get myself to get myself together to drag myself to the Bryant Park tents. The level of fabulousity I struggle to maintain is hard labor, let me tell you! I was not at my best, which is why there are few photos .
The Diane von Furstenberg show was full of feminine delights and pushy media folk. Yours truly was almost knocked over by a peon with a Canon point and shoot. And still having a terrible cold, as I made my way to my seat, I sneezed on my former BFF, Andre Leon Talley. (The Rachel Zoe incident will take a long time to forgive or forget.) Unlike Alec Baldwin, he was not wearing suede. Be grateful for small favors.
"Bask in my awesome, bitches"
My BFF, Tim Gunn
He particularly admired my mink vintage cigarette case, which I use as a business card holder. When rummaging through my handbag, the fur makes it much easier to find.
I shall never understand the double row of celebrities or whatever they are at the center of the runway. It reminds me oddly of cafeteria seating.
As for the show itself, there was an homage to her famous wrap dress and much of the collection was black. Diane clearly knows how to design for a woman’s body. Her clothes can be worn by woman 19-69.
Model waiting to go on the runway
The finale of the show was a sensational metallic pewter draped dress which on closer examination had a rather strange little edge of blue tulle.
At the end, Diane herself walked the entire runway with her family. There was not a dry eye in the house except for yours truly. I detest cheap sentiment, however sincere.
DVF about to hit the runway
Before the Custo Barcelona show, I was (un)fortunate enough to interview the impossibly fey designer Vassilios Kostetsos, to which I will devote a separate entry. Suffice to say his aversion to larger women is only equaled by Oprah Winfrey’s self-loathing.
The Custo Barcelona show had, like all of his shows, a lot of thumping, thundering noise. With androgynous models speed-walking around the catwalk. Custo Barcelona designs for very young men and women. Since I am not very young, only ageless, he is not "targeting my demo," so to speak. To be honest, the only way one could tell which sex a model was, was by the size of their thighs. The men have a bit more meat on their legs.
The show was called “Hairy Metal,” which to your faithful correspondent is a truly disgusting image. It translated into something far more palatable, albeit a bit strange: large fuzzy tunics, clothing with random strips of fur applied as though the designer had thrown them against a sweater covered with superglue.
The coats were the strongest part of the show, thick with texture. Even though these designs are for club kids, I could have used one of them in the frigid February weather.
Some of the men’s suits were made out of faux reptile fabric, in yet another evocation of the 1970s. Of all of the decades to be inspired by, why THAT one?
When the designer came out, he wore a color-blocked sweater that underscored that he is too old to wear his own designs. Comment bien triste.
Off to a hot bath and one hopes a lessening of sputum. Next time I might sneeze on Fern Mallis, and that would be the end of the tents pour moi!
More later!
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Photos not taken by moi are courtesy of Getty Images
I arose from my sickbed to return the Bryant Park tents because I know that is what all of my faithful readers demand from me. What would Fashion Week be without my discerning eye and my desire to bring all of it to you, mes fidèles lecteurs? A hollow shell, that’s what.
The untimely death of the genius designer Alexander McQueen has left a pall over New York Fashion Week. The atmosphere isn’t exactly grim, but it is definitely there. On Thursday, each show began with a moment of silence to acknowledge his passing.
I was supposed to start my day with the Simon Spurr show. But in the words of the late, unlamented Phil Rizzuto “WW (wasn’t watching).” It was almost too much to get myself to get myself together to drag myself to the Bryant Park tents. The level of fabulousity I struggle to maintain is hard labor, let me tell you! I was not at my best, which is why there are few photos .
The Diane von Furstenberg show was full of feminine delights and pushy media folk. Yours truly was almost knocked over by a peon with a Canon point and shoot. And still having a terrible cold, as I made my way to my seat, I sneezed on my former BFF, Andre Leon Talley. (The Rachel Zoe incident will take a long time to forgive or forget.) Unlike Alec Baldwin, he was not wearing suede. Be grateful for small favors.
"Bask in my awesome, bitches"
In my haste to get away before an unpleasant scene, I again met my new BFF, Tim Gunn. He was so delighted to see me he pushed Fern Mallis out of the way.
My BFF, Tim Gunn
He particularly admired my mink vintage cigarette case, which I use as a business card holder. When rummaging through my handbag, the fur makes it much easier to find.
I shall never understand the double row of celebrities or whatever they are at the center of the runway. It reminds me oddly of cafeteria seating.
As for the show itself, there was an homage to her famous wrap dress and much of the collection was black. Diane clearly knows how to design for a woman’s body. Her clothes can be worn by woman 19-69.
Model waiting to go on the runway
The finale of the show was a sensational metallic pewter draped dress which on closer examination had a rather strange little edge of blue tulle.
At the end, Diane herself walked the entire runway with her family. There was not a dry eye in the house except for yours truly. I detest cheap sentiment, however sincere.
DVF about to hit the runway
Before the Custo Barcelona show, I was (un)fortunate enough to interview the impossibly fey designer Vassilios Kostetsos, to which I will devote a separate entry. Suffice to say his aversion to larger women is only equaled by Oprah Winfrey’s self-loathing.
The Custo Barcelona show had, like all of his shows, a lot of thumping, thundering noise. With androgynous models speed-walking around the catwalk. Custo Barcelona designs for very young men and women. Since I am not very young, only ageless, he is not "targeting my demo," so to speak. To be honest, the only way one could tell which sex a model was, was by the size of their thighs. The men have a bit more meat on their legs.
The show was called “Hairy Metal,” which to your faithful correspondent is a truly disgusting image. It translated into something far more palatable, albeit a bit strange: large fuzzy tunics, clothing with random strips of fur applied as though the designer had thrown them against a sweater covered with superglue.
The coats were the strongest part of the show, thick with texture. Even though these designs are for club kids, I could have used one of them in the frigid February weather.
Some of the men’s suits were made out of faux reptile fabric, in yet another evocation of the 1970s. Of all of the decades to be inspired by, why THAT one?When the designer came out, he wore a color-blocked sweater that underscored that he is too old to wear his own designs. Comment bien triste.
Off to a hot bath and one hopes a lessening of sputum. Next time I might sneeze on Fern Mallis, and that would be the end of the tents pour moi!
More later!
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Photos not taken by moi are courtesy of Getty Images
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Project Runway's All-Star Challenge, Part Two
DAHLINGS –
Forgive the unpardonable lapse, but the preparation for Fashion Week Spring 2010 is simply too intense!
DID I HEAR YOU SIGH? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SIGH ABOUT? THAT’S WHY I GIVE YOU AMPHETAMINES, YOU PATHETIC LUMP! FOR ENERGY! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET ANYTHING DONE IF YOU PASS OUT AGAIN??
Ahem.
Back to Project Runway’s All Star Challenge: as I mentioned, at every conceivable moment, Chris March was to be found asleep (including the model casting!). However, his collection was easily my favorite. Strong silhouettes, a marvelous plaid, I was even willing to forgive the spray of feathers on the red-carpet gown. In the workroom, Tim Gunn loved what Chris was creating, as well.
The most bizarre moment was when the designers were unwillingly dragged out for a pre-runway show “celebratory dinner.” After the meal, Tim Gunn proclaimed that they had to create a fourth look, made from materials in the restaurant around them.
A scene erupted that was straight out of a Marx Brothers movie—or, for those who don’t know who the Marx Brothers are (I pity you)—most comedies starring Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell, or Dane Cook. The designers literally tore the restaurant apart. One hopes the place was already scheduled for demolition.
However, as one of my guests remarked at that time, “This is what I love about this show. It gives weird constraints to talented people.” I could not have put it better.
The magnificent Diane von Fursternberg was the guest judge, and the usual suspects were back: Michael Kors and his pancake makeup, Nina Garcia, replete with hair extensions, and Heidi Klum, of course.
Santino, for all of his bragging, (“Project Runway didn’t make me, I made Project Runway”—pride goeth before a Fall Collection) could not get his four looks together in time, and it showed. Almost everything in Santino’s collection was made of metallic lycra, making all of the models come across as low-priced escorts.
"Pretty Woman, walking down the street, pretty woman..."
Forgive the unpardonable lapse, but the preparation for Fashion Week Spring 2010 is simply too intense!
DID I HEAR YOU SIGH? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SIGH ABOUT? THAT’S WHY I GIVE YOU AMPHETAMINES, YOU PATHETIC LUMP! FOR ENERGY! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET ANYTHING DONE IF YOU PASS OUT AGAIN??
Ahem.
Back to Project Runway’s All Star Challenge: as I mentioned, at every conceivable moment, Chris March was to be found asleep (including the model casting!). However, his collection was easily my favorite. Strong silhouettes, a marvelous plaid, I was even willing to forgive the spray of feathers on the red-carpet gown. In the workroom, Tim Gunn loved what Chris was creating, as well.
The most bizarre moment was when the designers were unwillingly dragged out for a pre-runway show “celebratory dinner.” After the meal, Tim Gunn proclaimed that they had to create a fourth look, made from materials in the restaurant around them.A scene erupted that was straight out of a Marx Brothers movie—or, for those who don’t know who the Marx Brothers are (I pity you)—most comedies starring Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell, or Dane Cook. The designers literally tore the restaurant apart. One hopes the place was already scheduled for demolition.
However, as one of my guests remarked at that time, “This is what I love about this show. It gives weird constraints to talented people.” I could not have put it better.
The magnificent Diane von Fursternberg was the guest judge, and the usual suspects were back: Michael Kors and his pancake makeup, Nina Garcia, replete with hair extensions, and Heidi Klum, of course.
Santino, for all of his bragging, (“Project Runway didn’t make me, I made Project Runway”—pride goeth before a Fall Collection) could not get his four looks together in time, and it showed. Almost everything in Santino’s collection was made of metallic lycra, making all of the models come across as low-priced escorts.
"Pretty Woman, walking down the street, pretty woman..."Mychael Knight’s restaurant dress looked like the model would scrub a kitchen with her torso. Neckthing simply sent ugly clothes down the runway, and they were all “auf’d.” As was Uli, despite her death-ray stares at Sweet P.
Mychael's restaurant dress
Neckthing's harem-pant jumpsuit...why, oh, why have harem pants come back??
Darling Chris March’s collection knocked it out of the park, to use one of my male guest’s expressions. Beautifully made, strong, dramatic…I want him to design a collection for moi! Are you reading this, Chris dear? He should have been given the win!
Chris's wonderfully chic restaurant dress!
Sweet P’s restaurant dress was the most interesting part of her collection: it looked like a giant walking cupcake.
Korto’s clothes were lovely, if perhaps much of a muchness. Very beautiful, very drapey and wearable, but somehow they lacked the spark I saw in her runway show in February. However, her restaurant dress was absolutely superb:
You cannot tell from this photo, but the construction was masterful and the textures extremely creative and wearable.
Daniel, of all people, got the win! His restaurant dress looked like something a mad bomber would wear; perhaps a model crazed with hunger? “Give me a cheeseburger or I’ll blow Heidi to bits!” And his clothes—ugly and uglier. And the models—I thought heroin chic went out years ago. Ugh.
So, I disagree with the judges. Ce qui est nouveau?
I shall try to post about the premiere episode of Season Six before the second episode airs, I promise!
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Mychael's restaurant dress
Neckthing's harem-pant jumpsuit...why, oh, why have harem pants come back??Darling Chris March’s collection knocked it out of the park, to use one of my male guest’s expressions. Beautifully made, strong, dramatic…I want him to design a collection for moi! Are you reading this, Chris dear? He should have been given the win!
Chris's wonderfully chic restaurant dress!Sweet P’s restaurant dress was the most interesting part of her collection: it looked like a giant walking cupcake.
Korto’s clothes were lovely, if perhaps much of a muchness. Very beautiful, very drapey and wearable, but somehow they lacked the spark I saw in her runway show in February. However, her restaurant dress was absolutely superb:
You cannot tell from this photo, but the construction was masterful and the textures extremely creative and wearable.Daniel, of all people, got the win! His restaurant dress looked like something a mad bomber would wear; perhaps a model crazed with hunger? “Give me a cheeseburger or I’ll blow Heidi to bits!” And his clothes—ugly and uglier. And the models—I thought heroin chic went out years ago. Ugh.
So, I disagree with the judges. Ce qui est nouveau?I shall try to post about the premiere episode of Season Six before the second episode airs, I promise!
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Friday, February 20, 2009
Fashion Week Fall 2009: The Omnipresent Silhouette
DAHLINGS,
Is it moi, or was the Herve’ Leger by Max Azria show on Sunday as dull as calculus class on a rainy fall afternoon? One could almost feel the dank closeness of the wet classroom, the eyes slowly closing as one fights to keep awake over the unreadable textbook. A parade of dreary bandage dresses made their way down the runway (although starlets January Jones and her ilk seemed to love them). For once, the models’ forlorn expressions matched the clothes beautifully. And of course, there was the Silhouette:
Photo by Marceil Madiera
On the other hand, Diane Von Furstenberg’s “Nomad” collection was a sumptuous parade of textures and colors. The tent was absolutely packed with celebrities and fashion glitterati, including Diana Ross, who the press insists on calling “ageless.” I prefer “drinks the blood of young male virgins at the full moon." Really, what is going on with that woman? Note the expression on the face of her seatmate. Surely she wonders too.
Photo by Greg Kessler
However, her music on the soundtrack was a wonderful choice. My idol, Anna Wintour, was there, next to a gentleman whose hand looked like he’d gotten the worst of a battle with Bucky, my miniature pinscher.
Photo by Greg Kessler
But I swear, we were on the other side of the aisle! Bucky was nestled in his favorite oversized Dooney & Burke carrier, which matched my DVF ensemble perfectly. Other than some startled barking when Charlie Rose bumped against his carrier (what was Charlie Rose doing there?), my little darling behaved himself perfectly.
Back to the clothes—your faithful correspondent does not know which she enjoyed more, the variety, the lack of The Omnipresent Silhouette (although the first one comes very close), or the comparative sprightliness of the models. Although their utter lack of thigh flesh continues to distress me.
(All photos by Marcel Madeira)
This dress was my absolute favorite, of course; what can I say, I’m a fool for satin.
It was the only show that one attended that did not somehow have a whisper of fear around it...the economy is quite definitely changing the tone of Fashion Week, and it is not for the better. Oh, dear, that is a Deep Thought, and those always give me headaches. I shall have to stop here for the nonce, and go leaf through Details magazine.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Is it moi, or was the Herve’ Leger by Max Azria show on Sunday as dull as calculus class on a rainy fall afternoon? One could almost feel the dank closeness of the wet classroom, the eyes slowly closing as one fights to keep awake over the unreadable textbook. A parade of dreary bandage dresses made their way down the runway (although starlets January Jones and her ilk seemed to love them). For once, the models’ forlorn expressions matched the clothes beautifully. And of course, there was the Silhouette:
Photo by Marceil Madiera
On the other hand, Diane Von Furstenberg’s “Nomad” collection was a sumptuous parade of textures and colors. The tent was absolutely packed with celebrities and fashion glitterati, including Diana Ross, who the press insists on calling “ageless.” I prefer “drinks the blood of young male virgins at the full moon." Really, what is going on with that woman? Note the expression on the face of her seatmate. Surely she wonders too.
Photo by Greg Kessler
However, her music on the soundtrack was a wonderful choice. My idol, Anna Wintour, was there, next to a gentleman whose hand looked like he’d gotten the worst of a battle with Bucky, my miniature pinscher.
Photo by Greg Kessler
But I swear, we were on the other side of the aisle! Bucky was nestled in his favorite oversized Dooney & Burke carrier, which matched my DVF ensemble perfectly. Other than some startled barking when Charlie Rose bumped against his carrier (what was Charlie Rose doing there?), my little darling behaved himself perfectly.
Back to the clothes—your faithful correspondent does not know which she enjoyed more, the variety, the lack of The Omnipresent Silhouette (although the first one comes very close), or the comparative sprightliness of the models. Although their utter lack of thigh flesh continues to distress me.
(All photos by Marcel Madeira)
This dress was my absolute favorite, of course; what can I say, I’m a fool for satin.
It was the only show that one attended that did not somehow have a whisper of fear around it...the economy is quite definitely changing the tone of Fashion Week, and it is not for the better. Oh, dear, that is a Deep Thought, and those always give me headaches. I shall have to stop here for the nonce, and go leaf through Details magazine.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Fashion Week 2009 Wrap Up, Dahlings!
DAHLINGS –
I am simply wrung out, exhausted, barely able to move. I am dictating this blog-thing to my assistant while getting a foot message and pedicure (there is another masseuse giving Bucky a full-body message…the poor little dog had been banged around in so many different bags by frantic crowds! I do hope she remembers to put a muzzle on my darling before she paints his nails).
Because of my extreme weariness I shall simply give some thumbnail descriptions of various shows I visited during the past week. First of all, Diane von Furstenberg’s show was delightful, the dresses flowing, airy and comfortable. And many of the models were SMILING! Mon dieu! How refreshing! (Methinks Diane has found a man to have sex with, unlike her husband?) DVF even created a way to conceal Coco Rocha:
Brava, Diva!
As regular readers know, Marc Jacobs is not one of my favorite designers. However, one must reluctantly admit that his collection was…yes, I can say it…marvelous. Over the top, colorful, but so well-edited and with a sense of humor. It was at the Armory, and actually started on time! Last time spectators had to wait hours, and then MJ went ballistic, as they say, in the newspapers no less. One must do some reconsidering.
I am not usually a woman who is wrong, but in this case, I won’t say I have been wrong, but I will say that I have reconsidered. It was one of the best collections of the week. Cathy Horyn of the New York Times mentioned, that in this year of women in elections, perhaps some of Jacobs’s outfits were referencing turn-of-the-century suffragettes. Of that, I can only approve. And Cathy is simply one of the best, if not the best, fashion interpreters out there today.
Out of sheer curiosity, I would have gone to Michael Kors’s show, but participating in the New York Reality Television School the night before (how ironic!) left me reluctant to leave my bed until the Oscar de le Renta show.
And of course, your faithful correspondent was in the front row, across from the luminous Jennifer Lopez, who for some reason was wearing a black strapless ball gown for early afternoon (I mean, there are photo ops and there are photo ops, but really.) and Rachel Zoe. About the latter, my lips are sealed, friend-snatcher. Of course I wore Oscar from head to foot (well, not foot, because I have to have my shoes custom made, but I had managed to color coordinate my stilettos). So that I wouldn’t look too—I despise the phrase—“matchy matchy”, I carried a Louis Vuitton carrier for Bucky and a bright yellow Toblerone, extra large. One of those bars can get one through an entire day, provided one also brings a Red Bull or two. Yes, I do get a bit snappish at times—
WHY ARE YOU ROLLING YOUR EYES? WHAT AM I PAYING YOU FOR, YOU IDIOTIC SWINE? GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY FEET AT ONCE! GET OUT! NO, LEAVE YOUR ASSISTANT HERE! BUCKY'S TOES HAVE NOT BEEN PAINTED YET!
Ahem. Je ne souffrent pas des imbéciles heureux.
I am simply wrung out, exhausted, barely able to move. I am dictating this blog-thing to my assistant while getting a foot message and pedicure (there is another masseuse giving Bucky a full-body message…the poor little dog had been banged around in so many different bags by frantic crowds! I do hope she remembers to put a muzzle on my darling before she paints his nails).
Because of my extreme weariness I shall simply give some thumbnail descriptions of various shows I visited during the past week. First of all, Diane von Furstenberg’s show was delightful, the dresses flowing, airy and comfortable. And many of the models were SMILING! Mon dieu! How refreshing! (Methinks Diane has found a man to have sex with, unlike her husband?) DVF even created a way to conceal Coco Rocha:
Brava, Diva!
As regular readers know, Marc Jacobs is not one of my favorite designers. However, one must reluctantly admit that his collection was…yes, I can say it…marvelous. Over the top, colorful, but so well-edited and with a sense of humor. It was at the Armory, and actually started on time! Last time spectators had to wait hours, and then MJ went ballistic, as they say, in the newspapers no less. One must do some reconsidering.
I am not usually a woman who is wrong, but in this case, I won’t say I have been wrong, but I will say that I have reconsidered. It was one of the best collections of the week. Cathy Horyn of the New York Times mentioned, that in this year of women in elections, perhaps some of Jacobs’s outfits were referencing turn-of-the-century suffragettes. Of that, I can only approve. And Cathy is simply one of the best, if not the best, fashion interpreters out there today.
Out of sheer curiosity, I would have gone to Michael Kors’s show, but participating in the New York Reality Television School the night before (how ironic!) left me reluctant to leave my bed until the Oscar de le Renta show.
And of course, your faithful correspondent was in the front row, across from the luminous Jennifer Lopez, who for some reason was wearing a black strapless ball gown for early afternoon (I mean, there are photo ops and there are photo ops, but really.) and Rachel Zoe. About the latter, my lips are sealed, friend-snatcher. Of course I wore Oscar from head to foot (well, not foot, because I have to have my shoes custom made, but I had managed to color coordinate my stilettos). So that I wouldn’t look too—I despise the phrase—“matchy matchy”, I carried a Louis Vuitton carrier for Bucky and a bright yellow Toblerone, extra large. One of those bars can get one through an entire day, provided one also brings a Red Bull or two. Yes, I do get a bit snappish at times—
WHY ARE YOU ROLLING YOUR EYES? WHAT AM I PAYING YOU FOR, YOU IDIOTIC SWINE? GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY FEET AT ONCE! GET OUT! NO, LEAVE YOUR ASSISTANT HERE! BUCKY'S TOES HAVE NOT BEEN PAINTED YET!
Ahem. Je ne souffrent pas des imbéciles heureux.
Absolutely beautiful, dahlings. One can always count on Oscar to deliver the goods.
And while we are at it, compare Oscar's swimsuit to Yigal's
Francisco Costa’s collection for Calvin Klein seemed a wee bit bizarre to your faithful correspondent, but he was going for an “architectural” look. For those of you who criticize moi for suggesting many of the models might have Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, Serena Williams and Tyra Banks were in the audience… what a relief to see “real” women!
Christian Siriano executed a marvelous collection. He is truly growing as a designer, even though he’s almost as small in person as Bucky. (Seeing him stand next to my ex-friend Andre Leon Talley is seeing Mutt and Jeff personified, pardon the antique reference.)
As for the Project Runway show, my lips are sealed. You’ll simply have to wait, dahlings.
Ciao,
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Project Runway Goes "High Brow" with Diane Von Furstenberg
DAHLINGS –
Didn’t Leanne surprise us all by winning her second challenge in a row? The challenge was to design for Diane Von Furstenberg, fashion legend and whose brow lift was carefully lit. (Was that an Iphone in her cleavage in the beginning? Qu'est-ce qu'un beau toucher commune. Look it up.)
Leanne's dress was simply stunning, I have NO criticism to offer. (Please do not faint.) Despite my earlier criticisms, she has stepped forward and proved to be the threat she claimed to be. The clumpy jacket, one did not care for, but that dress was absolutely sensational! Diane Von Furstenberg is offering it to American Express customers, and has only changed the color from cobalt blue to purple. And of course, lost the heavy jacket.
Although your faithful correspondent believes that Korto should have gotten the win. That beautiful gown! The yellow and print! The faux lamb jacket! All absolute perfection, and SO DVF. However, Korto has a slight attitude problem. If only she could smile graciously when she does not win instead of sulking. Her sullenness might cause her to be auf'd. (This is said with love, dahlings!)
As a judge, DVF was a tremendous improvement over Rachel Zoe. And Fern Mallis did an excellent job. She is head of IMG, producers of Fashion Week, which starts...tomorrow!
AND Laura Bennett…this may be heresy to some of you out there, but I wish she was on the program every week. I have not had a chance to comment on her since my earlier PR entry some time ago. (Her “excuse me?” to Keith the week before was one of the great Project Runway moments.) Her comments, her eye, absolutely on target.
Heidi the Hun surprised me too, dahlings. Her runway outfit was in quiet good taste, and the first one to be an appropriate length for her age!
Again, do not faint, but I was sorry to see Stella go. After all these weeks, I’ve gotten used to her. However, she insisted on sending the same ideas down the runway again and again, refusing to compromise her "rock and roll" aesthetic. It certainly bears no resemblance to MY aesthetic. Over the past two weeks, some of the designers have been listening to Tim Gunn and modifying their designs, but Stella would not. It was remarkable to see how upset the other designers were to see her leave, and quite touching.
However, at least it was Stella and not Joe. Although Joe’s design was ill-conceived. He might have slipped by if he hadn’t used that hideous shiny fabric for the shawl. But that shawl took the outfit from “tawdry” to “cheap”.
Blayne thinks MARY KATE OLSEN is a fashion legend?? He probably thinks Rachel Zoe is a model of understated good taste. His design was a disaster. (There is NO reason for Blayne to still be there except that some people think he makes “good television.” Good television according to whom?)
I know that Kenley was completely overwhelmed by the prospect of designing for DVF. She chose to make one perfect dress rather than multiple pieces. One has to admit, what she wore on Runway Day was beaucoup plus créatif than what she sent down the runway.
What she sent down the runway:
Her own design off the runway:
One major cavil: The plot of "A Foreign Affair," as Diane Von Furstenberg outlines it and as the designers mangle it later, bears NO relation to the plot of the actual movie! It was made in 1948, set entirely in post-war Berlin, and directed by the great Billy Wilder.
Marlene Dietrich plays a glamorous entertainer, true, but she is NOT a spy. She sings in a tawdry nightspot and lives in near-poverty. However, she is an ex-Nazi, protected by a corrupt American captain (played by John Lund). Jean Arthur, a famous comedienne of the 1930s and 1940s, plays a prim Congresswoman sent to investigate conditions in Berlin and the morale of the troops there. Arthur falls in love with Lund, and Dietrich is exposed and turned over to the MPs. No Shanghai, no New York. Edith Head designed Dietrich's costumes, which ranged from beaded gowns to ordinary streetwear and of course, a trenchcoat.
I very much doubt Diane Von Furstenberg actually saw the movie, and should fire the assistant who told her the plot. Just my non-humble opinion.
My dear readers, you know my opinion of vintage sellers who have no sense of history. If designers spent an evening with a few DVDs instead of looking at photographs, how much richer the design world might be for it!
See you under the tents!
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Didn’t Leanne surprise us all by winning her second challenge in a row? The challenge was to design for Diane Von Furstenberg, fashion legend and whose brow lift was carefully lit. (Was that an Iphone in her cleavage in the beginning? Qu'est-ce qu'un beau toucher commune. Look it up.)
Leanne's dress was simply stunning, I have NO criticism to offer. (Please do not faint.) Despite my earlier criticisms, she has stepped forward and proved to be the threat she claimed to be. The clumpy jacket, one did not care for, but that dress was absolutely sensational! Diane Von Furstenberg is offering it to American Express customers, and has only changed the color from cobalt blue to purple. And of course, lost the heavy jacket.
Although your faithful correspondent believes that Korto should have gotten the win. That beautiful gown! The yellow and print! The faux lamb jacket! All absolute perfection, and SO DVF. However, Korto has a slight attitude problem. If only she could smile graciously when she does not win instead of sulking. Her sullenness might cause her to be auf'd. (This is said with love, dahlings!)
As a judge, DVF was a tremendous improvement over Rachel Zoe. And Fern Mallis did an excellent job. She is head of IMG, producers of Fashion Week, which starts...tomorrow!
AND Laura Bennett…this may be heresy to some of you out there, but I wish she was on the program every week. I have not had a chance to comment on her since my earlier PR entry some time ago. (Her “excuse me?” to Keith the week before was one of the great Project Runway moments.) Her comments, her eye, absolutely on target.
Heidi the Hun surprised me too, dahlings. Her runway outfit was in quiet good taste, and the first one to be an appropriate length for her age!
Again, do not faint, but I was sorry to see Stella go. After all these weeks, I’ve gotten used to her. However, she insisted on sending the same ideas down the runway again and again, refusing to compromise her "rock and roll" aesthetic. It certainly bears no resemblance to MY aesthetic. Over the past two weeks, some of the designers have been listening to Tim Gunn and modifying their designs, but Stella would not. It was remarkable to see how upset the other designers were to see her leave, and quite touching.
However, at least it was Stella and not Joe. Although Joe’s design was ill-conceived. He might have slipped by if he hadn’t used that hideous shiny fabric for the shawl. But that shawl took the outfit from “tawdry” to “cheap”.
Blayne thinks MARY KATE OLSEN is a fashion legend?? He probably thinks Rachel Zoe is a model of understated good taste. His design was a disaster. (There is NO reason for Blayne to still be there except that some people think he makes “good television.” Good television according to whom?)
I know that Kenley was completely overwhelmed by the prospect of designing for DVF. She chose to make one perfect dress rather than multiple pieces. One has to admit, what she wore on Runway Day was beaucoup plus créatif than what she sent down the runway.
What she sent down the runway:
Her own design off the runway:
One major cavil: The plot of "A Foreign Affair," as Diane Von Furstenberg outlines it and as the designers mangle it later, bears NO relation to the plot of the actual movie! It was made in 1948, set entirely in post-war Berlin, and directed by the great Billy Wilder.
Marlene Dietrich plays a glamorous entertainer, true, but she is NOT a spy. She sings in a tawdry nightspot and lives in near-poverty. However, she is an ex-Nazi, protected by a corrupt American captain (played by John Lund). Jean Arthur, a famous comedienne of the 1930s and 1940s, plays a prim Congresswoman sent to investigate conditions in Berlin and the morale of the troops there. Arthur falls in love with Lund, and Dietrich is exposed and turned over to the MPs. No Shanghai, no New York. Edith Head designed Dietrich's costumes, which ranged from beaded gowns to ordinary streetwear and of course, a trenchcoat.
I very much doubt Diane Von Furstenberg actually saw the movie, and should fire the assistant who told her the plot. Just my non-humble opinion.
My dear readers, you know my opinion of vintage sellers who have no sense of history. If designers spent an evening with a few DVDs instead of looking at photographs, how much richer the design world might be for it!
See you under the tents!
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
from ms decarlos notes fashion week
this miss decarlos new assistant. she a mean lady. a very mean lady. but my mother said i gotta do this or things gonna get way fucked up.
miss decarlos notes
luca luca was dull dull. transparant shapeless dresses one after the other i cant spell the names in the front row what kind of name is ivanka? gawnt models covered up, thank g-d.
on the other hand, the diane vonfirstenberg show was marvelous. colorful, femenine, and fun. i intend to order a number of her dresses.
(dios mio, this woman has money!)
despite her browlift diane looked radiant at the end as well she should. and the funny hat kwowshent was low. a few straw hats, but mostly had scarfs.
Chow
miss decarlos notes
luca luca was dull dull. transparant shapeless dresses one after the other i cant spell the names in the front row what kind of name is ivanka? gawnt models covered up, thank g-d.
on the other hand, the diane vonfirstenberg show was marvelous. colorful, femenine, and fun. i intend to order a number of her dresses.
(dios mio, this woman has money!)
despite her browlift diane looked radiant at the end as well she should. and the funny hat kwowshent was low. a few straw hats, but mostly had scarfs.
Chow
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The Met Costume Institute Gala, Continued...
DAHLINGS -
That stupid intern...I will write about him on the morrow, but for now, there's much to catch up on.
At the Metropolitan Museum Gala celebrating "The King of
Fashion," Paul Poiret, there were the usual contingent of hideously scrawny models (oh, pardonnez moi...small-boned women with high metabolisms).
Note how the poor dears have to hold each other up. The haute monde showed up in force, dressed in all manner of outfits. Diane Von Furstenberg designed her own dress, and to moi it was a toss-up whose forehead was higher, hers or Barry Diller's.
To add a touch of John Wayne-style masculinity, costume jewelry king Kenneth Jay Lane stopped in:
Not all of the women there were fleshless wonders. Here is the ever delightful Marjorie Gubelmann Raein, in Carolina Herrera.
My only criticism is that Marjorie is attempting the same effect with a healthy bosom that the clavicle crowd obtains sans breasts; that is, no apparent cleavage. Next time, Marjorie, let your decolletage BREATHE! This young man--I assume he was a cross-dresser--was quite impressive, no discernible soft tissue at all.
(For the record, he is wearing Burberry.)
A number of my favorite people were there, including Oscar de la Renta, Anne Grausso, the spectacularly beautiful America Ferrera, the Yurmans, and oh, so many others! Cocktail hour was spent in the European sculpture garden, where I remember so many happy hours as a child. Then four trumpeters blew--what else--trumpets, and we were ushered in to dinner inside the Englehard Court. I admit, I was none too pleased to be seated by Conde Nast's Chuck Townsend, because all he likes to talk about is himself, but I merely nodded, smiled, and sipped champagne.
Here is Chuck with two unidentified women, the one to his left illustrating why women over the age of twelve should not wear babydoll dresses. Renee Zellweger sat next to Andre, and she has also become frighteningly thin...what on earth is happening in Hollywood? A famine? The Zone Diet gone berserk?
What a beautiful dress. If only there was a body in it.
Well, it was the evening was all jolly good fun, and hard on the feet. Here are my nominees for the two worst dresses at the Gala. First we have Kirsten Dunst, who must have been smoking a tremendous amount of weed (or snorting peacock poo) when she chose this babydoll-style nightmare, complete with headband:
Second, Fabiola Berascara, in Givenchy Haute Couture (!). Words fail me. A bubble dress covered with netting and hemmed with those sort of paper streamers they hang at children's parties, only in brown. Good Lord. Oh, and look, in the background in white, another of those amusing cross-dressers. Admirable muscular definition, nçest pas?
Feel free to vote here for your choice, or any other sartorial choice that violated your senses.
And don't forget, dahlings - Meg Cabot will be visiting here ere long! I shall devote a special blog to your questions.
Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog
That stupid intern...I will write about him on the morrow, but for now, there's much to catch up on.
At the Metropolitan Museum Gala celebrating "The King of
Fashion," Paul Poiret, there were the usual contingent of hideously scrawny models (oh, pardonnez moi...small-boned women with high metabolisms).
Note how the poor dears have to hold each other up. The haute monde showed up in force, dressed in all manner of outfits. Diane Von Furstenberg designed her own dress, and to moi it was a toss-up whose forehead was higher, hers or Barry Diller's.
To add a touch of John Wayne-style masculinity, costume jewelry king Kenneth Jay Lane stopped in:
Not all of the women there were fleshless wonders. Here is the ever delightful Marjorie Gubelmann Raein, in Carolina Herrera.
My only criticism is that Marjorie is attempting the same effect with a healthy bosom that the clavicle crowd obtains sans breasts; that is, no apparent cleavage. Next time, Marjorie, let your decolletage BREATHE! This young man--I assume he was a cross-dresser--was quite impressive, no discernible soft tissue at all.
(For the record, he is wearing Burberry.)
A number of my favorite people were there, including Oscar de la Renta, Anne Grausso, the spectacularly beautiful America Ferrera, the Yurmans, and oh, so many others! Cocktail hour was spent in the European sculpture garden, where I remember so many happy hours as a child. Then four trumpeters blew--what else--trumpets, and we were ushered in to dinner inside the Englehard Court. I admit, I was none too pleased to be seated by Conde Nast's Chuck Townsend, because all he likes to talk about is himself, but I merely nodded, smiled, and sipped champagne.
Here is Chuck with two unidentified women, the one to his left illustrating why women over the age of twelve should not wear babydoll dresses. Renee Zellweger sat next to Andre, and she has also become frighteningly thin...what on earth is happening in Hollywood? A famine? The Zone Diet gone berserk?
What a beautiful dress. If only there was a body in it.
Well, it was the evening was all jolly good fun, and hard on the feet. Here are my nominees for the two worst dresses at the Gala. First we have Kirsten Dunst, who must have been smoking a tremendous amount of weed (or snorting peacock poo) when she chose this babydoll-style nightmare, complete with headband:
Second, Fabiola Berascara, in Givenchy Haute Couture (!). Words fail me. A bubble dress covered with netting and hemmed with those sort of paper streamers they hang at children's parties, only in brown. Good Lord. Oh, and look, in the background in white, another of those amusing cross-dressers. Admirable muscular definition, nçest pas?
Feel free to vote here for your choice, or any other sartorial choice that violated your senses.
And don't forget, dahlings - Meg Cabot will be visiting here ere long! I shall devote a special blog to your questions.
Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog
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