DAHLINGS -
There are so many books on fashion out there. Many of them are disposable "How To Wear Party Clothes" or "Dress For Nothing: Dumpster Diving Divas". However, there are chances to buy true one-of-a-kind classics. Case in point:
Top New York antiques dealer David Duncan is launching a sale of more than 250 exquisite books from his private collection on One Kings Lane (http://www.onekingslane.com/), the upscale online sales site, which will run from Saturday, June 4 to Tuesday, June 7. The sale will include many rare fashion titles -- all at discounted prices.
Among the titles being offered are:
"Christian Lacroix: Pêle-Mêle" By Christian Lacroix in collaboration with Patrick Mauriès, 1992. First edition: in French. Signed by Lacroix to the late Harper's Bazaar editor Liz Tilberis. Excellent condition. Hardcover and with dust jacket. Original price $300.00. Sale price $215.00.
"Valentino" By Trent' Anni Di Magia, 1990. First edition, in Italian. Signed by Valentino to the late Harper's Bazaar editor Liz Tilberis. Very good condition. Hardcover and with dust jacket. Original price $250.00. Sale price $175.00.
"The Sixties: A Decade in Vogue" By Nicholas Drake, 1988. Excellent condition. Original price $133.00. Sale price $95.00
"Azzedine Alaïa" published by Steidl. Limited Edition, 1998. Excellent condition. Hardcover and with dust jacket. With specially designed hard slip case. Original price $2,300.00, sale price $1,600.00.
"The Rudi Gernreich Book" By Peggy Moffitt and William Claxton, 1991. Second edition, published by TASCHEN, 1999. Hardcover and with dust jacket.
Original price $200.00, sale price $139.00
"Poiret" by Yvonne Deslandres with Dorothee Lalanne, 1986. Excellent condition. First edition, hardcover and with dust jacket.
Original price $580.00, sale price $435.00
And, darling readers, I do know you'll snap these up! I have my eye on 'Valentino'.
Ciao,
Elisa
Showing posts with label Valentino. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valentino. Show all posts
Friday, June 3, 2011
Monday, January 18, 2010
The Golden Globes 2010: MY Dullest Dressed!
DAHLINGS -
This edition of the Golden Globes contained so many dull, uninspired, been-there dresses, that I simply had to make a new category: The Snooze Awards. Any one of these dresses could induce ennui, put together they guarantee narcolepsy.
Let's start with something utterly boring, shall we? Jennifer Aniston in a black dress by Valentino. A high slit does not an interesting gown make.
If that weren't dull enough, Glenn Close chose to wear a simple column dress in black by Oscar de la Renta. Oscar, dahling, you let me down. Not to mention that Ms. Close looks like she could out-bench press Colin Farrell.
Courtney Cox prevents excitement from building with another uninspired black dress:
Heather Graham in a dress that is a collision between Jennifer Aniston's Valentino and Glenn Close's Oscar de La Renta. The slicked back hair does not help.
Julianne Moore's Balenciaga is not bad enough to qualify her for Worst Dressed, but it is certainly an ill-conceived snore.
Here's a variation on The LBD (The little boring dress) , a pouf skirt worn by one of the cast members of Glee.
Even the usually fabulous Kate Winslet could not escape the grip of dull, in this dark blue (literally) sleeper by YSL.
Now that we have moved on from black to dark blue, here is a Nina Ricci snoozefest worn by Carey Mulligan (who also needs to hitch it up).
Moving on, here is a lackluster chiffon pink number by Dolce & Gabbana on Emily Blunt.
Even the fact that it is Lanvin does not conceal the fact that Rose Byrne is wearing a dress like thousands of others on the red carpet at any given awards show.
Sophia Loren has recovered from the disaster at the Oscars only to discover quiet good taste. Too bad. I mean, she is Sophia Loren and all.
I couldn't bear to put Jenna Fischer in the Worst Dressed category, this Halston dress isn't that bad. It just isn't that...anything. It's a tad frumpy.
Well, those are the Snooze Awards, in no particular order. Feel free to comment. Just remember that I am always right.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
This edition of the Golden Globes contained so many dull, uninspired, been-there dresses, that I simply had to make a new category: The Snooze Awards. Any one of these dresses could induce ennui, put together they guarantee narcolepsy.
Let's start with something utterly boring, shall we? Jennifer Aniston in a black dress by Valentino. A high slit does not an interesting gown make.
If that weren't dull enough, Glenn Close chose to wear a simple column dress in black by Oscar de la Renta. Oscar, dahling, you let me down. Not to mention that Ms. Close looks like she could out-bench press Colin Farrell.
Courtney Cox prevents excitement from building with another uninspired black dress:
Heather Graham in a dress that is a collision between Jennifer Aniston's Valentino and Glenn Close's Oscar de La Renta. The slicked back hair does not help.
Julianne Moore's Balenciaga is not bad enough to qualify her for Worst Dressed, but it is certainly an ill-conceived snore.
Here's a variation on The LBD (The little boring dress) , a pouf skirt worn by one of the cast members of Glee.
Even the usually fabulous Kate Winslet could not escape the grip of dull, in this dark blue (literally) sleeper by YSL.
Now that we have moved on from black to dark blue, here is a Nina Ricci snoozefest worn by Carey Mulligan (who also needs to hitch it up).
Moving on, here is a lackluster chiffon pink number by Dolce & Gabbana on Emily Blunt.
Even the fact that it is Lanvin does not conceal the fact that Rose Byrne is wearing a dress like thousands of others on the red carpet at any given awards show.
Sophia Loren has recovered from the disaster at the Oscars only to discover quiet good taste. Too bad. I mean, she is Sophia Loren and all.
I couldn't bear to put Jenna Fischer in the Worst Dressed category, this Halston dress isn't that bad. It just isn't that...anything. It's a tad frumpy.
Well, those are the Snooze Awards, in no particular order. Feel free to comment. Just remember that I am always right.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Film Review: "Valentino, The Last Emperor"
DAHLINGS -
Matt Tyrnauer's insightful, gossipy documentary about the twilight of one of the last great couturiers, Valentino Garavini, "Valentino: The Last Emperor", could be the flip side of "Eleven Minutes," the story of Jay McCarroll's first attempt at New York Fashion Week. Where McCarroll has to scrounge, scrape and beg for the money to put together his collection, Valentino is so unimaginably wealthy that at times it seems almost obscene. (And this from a woman who herself owns more than a few Valentino originals.)
Valentino owns a 17th century chateau outside of Paris, a villa in Rome, a ski retreat in Switzerland, a town house in London and an apartment in Manhattan. Not to mention a private jet and a yacht, all of which he shares with six adorable pug dogs and his lifelong companion (and business partner) Giancarlo Giametti. It is entirely possible that Valentino would not be Valentino without Giametti, a practical businessman who seems not to mind being in the background. (Giametti also prefers a more natural looking skin color than the designer, who resembles an oiled coffee bean for much of the film.)
Tyrnauer, a writer for Vanity Fair, and his cinematographer, Tom Hurwitz, were granted access from 2005 through 2007 to every aspect of the designer's life and to those around him. It is a pivotal moment, not only for the designer but for the fashion industry. As multimillion dollar corporations swallow up Valentino's company, they also make his amazing skills oddly obsolete.
We not only see Valentino working through his creative process (where every dress is hand-stitched by a team of perpetually exhausted seamstresses) but also the luxurious side of his life, throwing parties attended by the likes of Michael Caine, Gwyneth Paltrow, Elton John, Elizabeth Hurley, Anne Hathaway and others.
We also see the literally hundreds of people it takes to keep the Valentino machine running, whether it be his major domo in London or the set designer and workers who help put together the spectacular, excessive 45th anniversary celebration of Valentino's career that provides the climax for the film.
(Karl Lagerfeld, looking like a cross between an extra from Night of the Living Dead and a strange 1960s porno film, quietly tells Valentino: "There's only us. All of the others just make rags.")
Valentino seems strangely removed from those around him; he only once touches one of his pug dogs. His relationship with Giametti seems equally distant, at least on Valentino's side. My dear, dear friend Andre Leon Talley livens up every scene he appears in.
To moi, the gowns, the lavish, beautiful gowns, eventually begin to seem almost much of a muchness. I even found myself nursing the traitorous thought that perhaps Valentino had run out of creative steam. It seems that I was not the only one.
Valentino has dressed Jackie Kennedy, Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Princess Margaret, and apparently every famous woman of the last four-plus decades. At the end of the film, we are informed at Valentino has retired. Despite a faint feeling of sadness, one feels that the time has come.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog (who gets cuddled on a very regular basis!)
Matt Tyrnauer's insightful, gossipy documentary about the twilight of one of the last great couturiers, Valentino Garavini, "Valentino: The Last Emperor", could be the flip side of "Eleven Minutes," the story of Jay McCarroll's first attempt at New York Fashion Week. Where McCarroll has to scrounge, scrape and beg for the money to put together his collection, Valentino is so unimaginably wealthy that at times it seems almost obscene. (And this from a woman who herself owns more than a few Valentino originals.)
Valentino owns a 17th century chateau outside of Paris, a villa in Rome, a ski retreat in Switzerland, a town house in London and an apartment in Manhattan. Not to mention a private jet and a yacht, all of which he shares with six adorable pug dogs and his lifelong companion (and business partner) Giancarlo Giametti. It is entirely possible that Valentino would not be Valentino without Giametti, a practical businessman who seems not to mind being in the background. (Giametti also prefers a more natural looking skin color than the designer, who resembles an oiled coffee bean for much of the film.)
Tyrnauer, a writer for Vanity Fair, and his cinematographer, Tom Hurwitz, were granted access from 2005 through 2007 to every aspect of the designer's life and to those around him. It is a pivotal moment, not only for the designer but for the fashion industry. As multimillion dollar corporations swallow up Valentino's company, they also make his amazing skills oddly obsolete.
We not only see Valentino working through his creative process (where every dress is hand-stitched by a team of perpetually exhausted seamstresses) but also the luxurious side of his life, throwing parties attended by the likes of Michael Caine, Gwyneth Paltrow, Elton John, Elizabeth Hurley, Anne Hathaway and others.
We also see the literally hundreds of people it takes to keep the Valentino machine running, whether it be his major domo in London or the set designer and workers who help put together the spectacular, excessive 45th anniversary celebration of Valentino's career that provides the climax for the film.
(Karl Lagerfeld, looking like a cross between an extra from Night of the Living Dead and a strange 1960s porno film, quietly tells Valentino: "There's only us. All of the others just make rags.")
Valentino seems strangely removed from those around him; he only once touches one of his pug dogs. His relationship with Giametti seems equally distant, at least on Valentino's side. My dear, dear friend Andre Leon Talley livens up every scene he appears in.
To moi, the gowns, the lavish, beautiful gowns, eventually begin to seem almost much of a muchness. I even found myself nursing the traitorous thought that perhaps Valentino had run out of creative steam. It seems that I was not the only one.
Valentino has dressed Jackie Kennedy, Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Princess Margaret, and apparently every famous woman of the last four-plus decades. At the end of the film, we are informed at Valentino has retired. Despite a faint feeling of sadness, one feels that the time has come.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog (who gets cuddled on a very regular basis!)
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Paris Couture Fall 2008 - Ennui Rules The Runways
DAHLINGS -
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
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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