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Friday, September 4, 2009

Headline Trip

Fashion Week's worst-kept secret —Yoko Ono's collaboration with threeasfour—is officially detailed. Highlights include prints from her dot drawings and a friendly price range. [WWD]

Giving American Apparel a run for its money, Marc by Marc boutiques in Paris, London, New York and Los Angeles will be plastered with nubile young things in a one-off collaboration with LOVE.

Rick Owens and the attack of the clones! [NY Times]

The other glamorous First Lady is heading to the Silver Screen. Spanish paper El Mundo is reporting that Carla Bruni-Sarkozy will star in Woody Allen's latest flick. [El Mundo]

Just announced: Alber Elbaz protégé Cedric Charlier has been tapped to revive the wilted French label of Cacharel. We hope he likes prints.

Threeasfour invitation

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Friday, August 21, 2009

Headline Trip

While rumors are brewing that Haider Ackermann may be Martin Margiela's successor, sources close to the elusive Belgian insist that this is one of his elaborate hoaxes. Whatever the case, we hear the incognito king was at the Los Angeles boutique not long ago waiting on unsuspecting costumers.

The grapevine also has it that Jean Paul Gaultier’s upcoming Hermès show may be his last. Though unconfirmed, you'd be well-advised to stock up on cheeky equestrian looks, just in case. [Fashion Week Daily]

Marc Jacobs after-party + Lady Gaga = signs of economic recovery. Or last gasp? You be the judge. [The Cut]

Designers Carolyn Massey and James Long were singled out by the British Fashion Council for Topman’s NewGen Men. Previous winners include every great Brit of the last twenty years. [WWD]

Apparently Zoolander isn't enough to dissuade models from pursing the slash-actress title. Irina Lazareanu and Agyness Deyn are both heading to a multiplex near you. As a last warning, we refer you to Cindy Crawford's infamous debut. [Grazia]

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Monday, August 17, 2009

Headline Trip

Opening Ceremony is counting down the days till their Grand Opening in Tokyo. Here's a peek at the J-Pop madness. [Opening Ceremony]

Bronwen Marshall, recent grad of the Royal College of Art, may be fashion's Dr. Frankenstein—in a good way. [Dazed Digital]

Marc Jacobs claims no friends or family will attend his wedding to Lorenzo Martone later this year in Provincetown. Yeah, right! [The Cut]

Is it us, or is Fashion's Night Out's promise to create "engaging and entertaining incentives to inspire consumers and invigorate the economy and local industry" a little underwhelming? [Fashion's Night Out]

Erin Fetherston premieres her new short film, a friendly affair. One guess what it's called. Yup, Birds of a Fether. [Style.com]

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Friday, July 24, 2009

Headline Trip

  • Everyone knows she invented her posh provenance. But with Coco Before Chanel hitting theaters soon, just how well do you know your Mademoiselle? [Times of London]

  • At 19, British model Jourdan Dunn is preggers. What to wear? [Style]

  • Meanwhile, another Brit model, Daisy Lowe, poses for Agent Provocateur, sits with her legs spread and gets doused with dog pee in her MTV UK documentary airing Sunday. [Grazia]

  • Julia Restoin Roitfeld is no more jeigermaster... EVER. [Facebook]

  • The rest of Marc Jacobs' fall ads, once again shot by Juergen Teller, have been posted. Expect more pretty people (and a few not) doing silly things... [Marc Jacobs]

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    Monday, July 20, 2009

    Hooked: Peseta for Marc by Marc Jacobs

    For their third collaboration with Marc Jacobs, Peseta—the whimsical Spanish bag maker—revisits hobo chic with their irresistible Ukelele bag, channeling the spirit of Charlie Chaplin's iconic tramp character. Patched together from scraps of durable materials, like worn-in denim, canvas and Dust Bowl-style gingham, the bag comes outfitted with hidden pockets and charm galore. Utilitarian and unisex, it's perfect for pursuing summer wanderlust, joining a traveling vaudeville troupe or indulging in the city’s many picaresque adventures. In the spirit of the Great Depression, it's also easy on a recession budget, at only $98 a pop; it can pay for itself as a donation bin while you sing for your supper on the street. Available at Marc by Marc Jacobs boutiques in Paris and London.

    —Franklin Melendez

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    Tuesday, July 7, 2009

    License to Swill

    You might have partied your guts out on the Fourth of July, but in Tokyo they celebrated Independence Day of a different kind—and probably with more restraint. You see, in Japan, Marc Jacobs has been available only through a byzantine licensing system. But no more, the shackles are off, and the fashion crowd flocked to the gardens of the Q.E.D. club to show their support. Pics by illustrator and Hint contributor Przemek Sobocki...

    Common & Sense editor-in-chief Kaoru Sasaki with editors Masumi Otsuji & Kaori Oda

    Hair stylist Yuya & model Michiko

    Numero editor-in-chief Ako Tanaka & DJ Verbal of Teriyaki Boyz

    model/actress Angela Reynolds & stylist/designer Anthony Monihan

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    Friday, June 26, 2009

    Paris Men's Week: Louis Vuitton

    Maybe it's because Marc Jacobs has been baring his tanned legs in skorts lately that Louis Vuitton studio director Paul Helbers has picked up on menswear's current bike vibe in such a big way that he dedicated the entire spring collection to New York messengers—or, as they refer to them in the show notes, "Gentlemen Papillons" (butterfly men). Nigerian singer Keziah Jones, who I discovered I'm in love with after the Yves Saint Laurent show, was back, sitting right across the runway from me and looking sublime in a T-shirt, trilby and skinny suit with contrast edging, no doubt from LV because similar models showed up for the show's finale.

    This was a great collection, an about face from all that triple-ply luxury LV has specialized in up until now. It's not that these clothes are any less elegant, but they're younger, less concerned with luxe and more interested in young men in their physical prime. The standouts: taxi-cab yellow racing jackets in washed linen, rolled-cuff shorts, a Taiga leather bum bag, an ottoman nylon trench coat, anything in tricky tech fabrics, a braided straw hat with a reflective band and those keychain necklaces worn with everything—even suits.

    —Rebecca Voight

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    Saturday, May 30, 2009

    Horse Power

    Drinking in the afternoon is a pretty iffy pursuit, even for us, but how can you say no when the sponsor of the Manhattan Polo Classic is the champion of champers, Veuve Clicquot, and you're rubbing hats with fashion, music, media and royal elite? Besides, someone needs to toast Prince Harry's first trip to New York...

    Lorenzo Martone horsing around in pleated shorts
    Argentinean polo player and Ralph Lauren model hotness Nacho Figueras

    Marc Jacobs might have left the skort at home, but still trotted out the heels
    Marc Jacobs and a sun-phobic Madonna being completely bored by someone

    No horse's gams can compete with Chloe Sevigny's
    His Royal Highness made the only royal point of the match

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    Monday, March 23, 2009

    Made in Brazil

    For his first trip to Brazil, Marc Jacobs swooped into São Paulo last week to celebrate his newest boutique, in partnership with Natalie Klein of NK Store. Of course, that wasn't all on his agenda. Newly engaged to Brazilian boy toy and ad exec Lorenzo Martone, Marc also met with his future mother-in-law over dinner at the swanky Fasano Hotel. This was followed by a day of gallery-hopping (while showing off matching left-hand rings) and another party Saturday night at a secret bar where Madonna and Michael Stipe threw parties recently, but which actually has no name. The night before, Marc and Lorenzo, along with Marc's business partner Robert Duffy, headed to cruisy gay club Cantho in an area known for its, shall we say, colorful transvestites. They stayed for about an hour and a half, sipped caipirinha and mugged for an endless parade of paparazzi, but left the Brazilian fashion flock to dance all night with go-go boys. At one point Marc told Folha magazine that he met Lorenzo in a darkroom, but we're not buying it—Marc's deadpan surely got lost in translation. Surely!

    An emotional moment happened at a VIP lunch when Lorenzo's former boss, Cris Bicalho (seen here), gave a speech that ended with: "Life is short," sending Marc into tears. Aaaawww. After São Paulo, the clearly happy couple will spend a month in Rio de Janeiro and Bahia. “Not to work, just for pleasure,” Marc said at a press conference, where, to a room of excitable Brazilian journos, he also talked about having good calves and ignoring the global economic crisis. When he wasn't mesmerized by Marc's calves, our ANDRE DO VAL took notes...

    Do you get annoyed with the media frenzy about your relationship?
    Marc Jacobs: No! I love attention! I'm an attention whore. I love it.
    Are you fond of Brazilian people?
    The Brazilians I have met and had the opportunity to work with, like Raquel Zimmermann, Gisele Bündchen, Daiane Conterato, Aline Weber and all the model girls I know, they have warmth, energy and a kind of innate sex appeal that I find desirable. It really rubs off. When I'm around them, I just feel the flirtation and sexuality. I wouldn’t generalize by saying all Brazilians are like this, but this has been my experience.
    You are a North American superstar!
    Yes, a worldwide superstar! How do you do it?
    I don’t know. I guess through hard work. We work very hard. And we’re not like the new kids on the block. We’ve been around for many, many years. We had our own company, worked for Perry Ellis, now Louis Vuitton. Our place in the world of fashion, North American or any other kind, is an evolution that we built. It's something acquired.
    Why this crush on kilts right now?
    Because I have good calves and I want to show them off.
    What comes to your mind when you think of Brazil?
    (Laughs.) I'd rather not to say it. Never mind.
    Are you in touch with any Brazilian fashion designers?
    Not a specific designer. I think there’s a swimwear designer, Rosa Chá? They worked with my friend Naomi Campbell. And then Alexandre Herchcovitch, whose work I don't know very well, but I know him through a photographer friend. That’s it.
    Do you have special products for each regional market?
    We work very hard making collections we believe in. Whether it's the Marc Jacobs collection or Marc by Marc Jacobs, it's for the world. We do one collection and what each market buys is up to them. They can edit as they please.
    Was the reduction of your show in New York a response to global economic crisis?
    Robert Duffy: It was a necessity. But we're continuing to expand and hiring more employees. Our responsibility is with the people we work with and that is where I wanted the financial resources to go.
    MJ: Creatively I try to ignore the crisis. I have the job of making beautiful things that I believe our costumers will enjoy and love. That’s my responsibility.
    Why come to São Paulo?
    RD: Well, Brazil has the strongest economy in South America. I’ve been to most countries in South America, and I like coming to Brazil. I feel the energy of it, I think it's the right time. Marc is on his first trip, but I think he is going to like it, too.

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    Wednesday, March 18, 2009

    Just In: Marc Jacobs to Wed

    It's official. After a year of speculation, persistent rumors and close calls, Marc Jacobs and Lorenzo Martone, his hunky Brazilian beau, have announced their engagement. The happy couple went public today, arriving in Martone’s native Sao Paolo with matching rings. The official reason for the visit is to launch Marc’s new boutique, but that opened back in January, so could this be a meeting with the in-laws, the asking of the hand?

    This and a lot of other details aren't known just yet, such as the date and location (see what you're missing, California?), but the ceremony promises to be the stuff of fashion legend. After all, the Marc empire has enough star power to put most royal nuptials to shame. Just imagine the guest list, the registry and who'll walk the bride down the aisle. And then there's the all-important wedding dress. Will it be a full-on Westwood punk gown, or pleated skorts, or perhaps Brazilian swim trunks for beachside vows? Obviously Aggy will flounce around as the flower girl, but will Kate be the Maid of Honor? And, if so, whose? Will Anna be ordained in time to perform the rites? And can we expect Tilda to be Best Man? Or Kim?

    Not since Elton and David have we been so excited about a marriage. In fact that might be the only time we've been excited by a marriage. Which is probably why we never to cry at weddings, but we have to confess, we're seriously tearing up at this. Congrats, Marc and Lorenzo!

    —Franklin Melendez

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    Tuesday, February 17, 2009

    Pandora's Bag

    Recognizing the mass potential of the Internet, Marc Jacobs—already a Facebook freak—named a bag after his #1 Filipino blogger and fan, Bryanboy, a little while back. Now Bryanboy—who's full of pithy, catchphrase-y things like "I'm so gay I sweat glitter"—is returning the favor by hauling his gaysian butt to New York to make a documentary, handycam-style, about the object of his infatuation, taking in both of Marc's collections. We were going to scoop that a few days ago, but forgot, then read it in WWD, which is also reporting the 25-minute short film will be produced by Lost In Translation's Stephen Schible. Anyway, we didn't realize Marcman and Bryanboy hadn't yet met; this backstage photo by Sonny Vandevelde shows the magical moment...

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    Monday, February 16, 2009

    Boys Will Be Boys

    By Franklin Melendez...

    While on the subject of communion with male spirits, Tim Hamilton presented his fall collection on Sunday at the lofty Lehmann Maupin Gallery. For several seasons now, Hamilton has been crafting his signature menswear just below the radar, but always attracting the attention of those in the know. Of course, a platter of teen hunks never hurts either. Assembled on risers, the boys provided swoon-worthy hangers for Hamilton's beautifully crafted, luxurious staples, which were a little like Doctor Zhivago crossed with Tom of Finland.

    Livelier than the usual runway affair, the boys actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. Many pouted, grinding to the music, with beer in hand. But before the Sunday buffet could turn into after-hours peep show, I headed backstage to reach the notoriously camera-shy designer. “There’s some early 20th-century points of departure,” he noted. “Vienna in the 20s, painterly knits, dramatic topcoats.”

    Tim Hamilton

    The presentation spilled into the evening and much of it spilled over into the notorious Club Sandwhich just a few doors down at Norwood House. With four floors of pounding music, the notorious French fete resembled something like a fashion circuit party. With Sylvester thumping in the background, I felt the primeval urge to take off my T-shirt and tuck it into a hanky-adorned back pocket—an urge I didn't act on. Partiers included Alexander Wang (with most of the Elle team), Marc Jacobs and his stud-muffin boyfriend Lorenzo Martone—who, I must admit, I wouldn't mind seeing shirtless and waving a glow stick.

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    Wednesday, January 21, 2009

    Party Pooping

    By Franklin Melendez...

    Even before the first looks of fall '09 hit the catwalk, the economic downturn is already dampening the modicum of festiveness we've been able to cough up for New York Fashion Week—or rather, its parties. According to WWD, two of the week's better bashes—Alexander Wang and Marc Jacobs—have been called off, and others are following suit, either opting for low-key, recession-appropriate dinners (snooze) or canceling post-show celebrations altogether. Based on similar grumbles we've been hearing from designers, expect more depressing news in the next three weeks.

    Now, we don't mean to sulk, but isn't a good fete one of the reasons we undertake the trials and tribulations of the February schedule, braving arctic temperatures and even frostier PR hacks, not to mention unsightly delays in remote locations? If recent signs are any indication, it seems the most resounding trend for fall might very well be out of Zoolander. Let us fear the resounding words of Mugatu: "I show you the future of fashion, I give you Derelicte!"

    Remember, in these trying times, the most responsible course of action might be to throw on something frivolous and wash down the hard times with a few glasses of anything sparkling and bubbly.

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    Saturday, January 10, 2009

    Keeping Up with Stephen Jones

    Because you asked, here's a progress report on friend and milliner (and Hinterview subject) Stephen Jones, who has a major retrospective coming up at London's Victoria & Albert museum, timed to coincide with London Fashion Week. Considering he supplies the hats (usually large, complicated, highly festooned concoctions) for a half dozen labels each season—i.e. Marc Jacobs, John Galliano, Giles—that means he's busier than a one-legged stripper, to use a drag colloquialism we know he'd appreciate.

    But first up, he's working on the hats for Dior's pre-fall collection next Thursday, as well as Dior's couture show later this month. He says the latter haven't been drawn up yet, just abstracted, which we think means wish-listed. But even before Couture Week comes Men's Week, and Stephen has Galliano Homme, Walter Van Beirendonck and Comme des Garçons booked, plus a surprise. Well, yes, a surprise, but it's the designer's first foray into menswear, so we'll give you two guesses who it could be.

    Stephen's own fall collection, called Albertopolis (Queen Victoria's nickname for South Kensington), mirrors the 300 or so hats of his V&A exhibit. The concept is a reinterpretation of past hats for today, including those inspired by Schiaparelli and geometry to familiar pieces worn by Madonna, Boy George and other slebs. It's Stephen's world; we just live in it.

    photo by Justine

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    Friday, January 9, 2009


    So, yeah, the latest New Year's resolution we've obliterated is to be more punctual. We arrived late to all three of Louis Vuitton's shindigs on Thursday to celebrate its new Stephen Sprouse collection. And the worst thing is we don't even have a lame excuse.

    First we were late to the LV store on Greene St. (where we did catch Marc and Lorenzo being extra-super-duper-frisky as they ran around from guest to guest giggling like girls). Then we were late to the "Rock on Mars" exhibit at Deitch Projects around the corner (where we overheard our new favorite line, delivered in perfect deadpan to the clueless door girl: "Marc Jacobs would vomit in your face if he knew you were making us wait out here.") And then late again to Bowery Ballroom (where Debbie Harry went onstage pretty much on time for her four-song set.) Foiled again!

    But we promise, dear readers, to do better. And now, a few enlightening words about Stephen from Mauricio Padilha, co-author of The Stephen Sprouse Book, out this month from Rizzoli...

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    Tuesday, January 6, 2009

    Your First Look: Stephen Sprouse

    Way back in the primordial ooze known as the 80s, designer Stephen Sprouse started out as an assistant to Halston, made art with fellow freaks at Andy Warhol's Factory, designed stage outfits for his friend Debbie Harry and ultimately opened a store of his very own. But it's possible that he's more sought-after now, posthumously, than ever before.

    Taking stock, there's that photo-stuffed new book from Rizzoli that everyone is talking about (how major does Steven Meisel look?). Marc Jacobs, too, has followed up his 2001 Louis Vuitton collaboration with Sprouse with a new line of limited-edition accessories, launching this week with parties at Vuitton's Soho store, Deitch Projects and Bowery Ballroom. Bags, shoes, wallets, macs, cell phones and skateboards all get the graffiti treatment.

    Now comes word that the latest issue of Le Book is "dressed" by Sprouse, the latest in a long line of collaborators that includes Karl Lagerfeld, Yves Saint Laurent and Azzedine Alaïa. We haven't the foggiest idea how the collaboration took place, since it's been five years since his passing, but there's no question Sprouse's neon-punk aesthetic makes for an eye-popping design—such as the rose motif on the cover, an image he achieved through photocopying and sent as thank-you cards to friends...

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    Saturday, October 11, 2008

    Male Pattern

    By Suleman Anaya...

    The art world A-list slummed it to the Bowery last Tuesday for the New Museum's opening of "Live Forever," the mid-career survey of artist Elizabeth Peyton, she of velvety little canvases of pale male beauties. Stephanie Seymour, Maurizio Cattalan, Kiki Smith and John Currin, with his sexy sculptress wife Rachel Feinstein, were among the notables who paid their respects as they imbibed a range of Thai libations (Thaibations?).

    Most of us looked at the art first, which, as ever, split observers into two camps: those who loved it and those who considered it little more than precious trifle. We took it for what it was, realizing we'll never get over Kurt Cobain and admiring how Peyton has, over time, found an effective way to depict fashion, sometimes by just implying a pattern or silhouette, yet one that looks like something you know you've seen walking around Nolita.

    Of course, everyone wanted to be on the top floor, with its terrace and stunning views—by far the best thing about the museum's new digs. Getting there, however, proved a little Sisyphean, as waiting for the elevator can take up half of your night. Thank goodness for Marc Jacobs, who made up for it by painting one of the sweeter tableaux of the night as we rode down together. Dressed in a three-piece pinstriped Bottega suit and tall man-heels, with his hair greased back, he looked every bit the Latin Lover, even holding hands with one, his hunky Brazilian boyfriend Lorenzo Martone.

    Elizabeth Peyton, Marc Jacobs & Lorenzo Martone

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    Tuesday, September 9, 2008

    Spooner-Fed, Part II

    Guest blogger Casey Spooner...

    You never know where the day will take you and yesterday was no exception. It was a beautiful day in the city and I spent way too much time on the phone, but much of it was in the park by the and in the sun. Did anyone else see those fighter jets fly over? The picture-perfect weather and the fighter jets really brought back memories of 9/11. And I had a terrible thought, if the Republicans really wanted to get McCain in office, all they need to do is stage another terrorist attack on American soil in between now and election day.

    Now on to Fashion Week. I started my evening at my friend Mona's show, A Detacher. She made my first costume for Fischerspooner back in the day. It was a very elegant show and it was good to see old friends and beautiful, well-made clothes. Mariko Mori, Threeasfour and Cindy Greene from Libertine were all there. Then I raced down to the Speigeltent for a Boucheron event that included a private performance of the show Desire. I am sad to say that even though the acrobats were great and very skilled, the entire production added up to a rather dull affair. But I was just killing time until the main event of the evening, and probably of the week...

    With the Marc Jacobs show normally running an hour or two late, I decided to go on the early side, an hour after the scheduled show time. But I didn't get the memo! The show started twenty minutes after show time and I was met with a legion of security thugs laughing at my late ass. Super fashion bummer. I shrugged it off and headed to Marc's after-party at the Greenwich Hotel, but it was a fucking zombie scene of hungry revelers. I tried to hustle in the back but lost interest. I decided to just enjoy myself and go to Mr. Chow's for a snack and beverage at the bar. But for some strange reason they would not seat me at that bar, only at a table. This irked me and I wandered out into the lovely evening where I ran into Jake Shears on the street. I ended up hanging out at his house, coveting his new sofa, having great conversation and drinking Campari until 3 am. Sorry I didn't make it, fashion, but thanks for the invite.

    —Casey Spooner

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    New York Fashion Week: Marc Jacobs

    Suleman Anaya...

    Just when your blasé self thinks you're done with New York Fashion Week, that nothing can make you care anymore, Marc Jacobs manages to bring out that childlike excitement you felt at your first fashion show (for me, a Marc show sometime during the reign of Brazilian models). Granted, it's hard not to fall for the outsize pageantry, the hulking concrete carcass of the Armory and the surreal experience of brushing knees with airbrushed humans—allegedly real blood runs through them—with names like Lopez and Lakshmi. Then there's the music. Marc goes for grand tunes that would be corny coming from anyone else: Pachelbel's canon and Ravel's Bolero in recent seasons and, last night, the brassy swoon of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. But none of the over-the-top circumstances would matter if the clothes weren't strange, smart, new and, let's just say it, gorgeous. Again.

    This season it appeared as if his imagination had gone to China and back by way of the Wild West, as prairie blouses with pagoda shoulders emerged on the runway on top of bustled skirts that looked like upside-down garbage bags, all brilliantly tied together like some oriental binding technique. (Said runway, by the way, was a clever maze of mirrors conceived by set designer and regular Marc collaborator Stefan Beckman.) All those wrapped layers, yards of lurex and silk in deep iridescent colors made me think of candy, or jewels—maybe candyjewels. Accessories, as usual, bordered on deranged; look for bathing caps on the streets of Tokyo come March. Bottom line is, for ten minutes, Marc had me in fashion nirvana. And in an instant, even the silly nicotine, gym-obsessed antics described in that recent New Yorker profile were forgiven. Marc is a genius, so let him be ridiculously muscled and pretend to be tacky if that's what makes him happy these days.

    Once I regained my composure, I headed backstage with the adorable John Cameron Mitchell and his scrumptious buddy, film star Michael Pitt. I asked John, who knows a thing or two about gender-bending, which of the 53 looks he'd pick to crossdress in. He said he doesn't do drag anymore, but that he'd probably choose a billowy yellow and blue summer dress that both he and Pitt loved. Really? It made me think of a silly German animated series for kids called Biene Maya—or Maya the Bee. But John loved it because the colors were the same as the Swedish flag and because he likes "solids and geometry." Who knew the man who gave us the delicious riot of Hedwig is secretly a sucker for order? Pitt just nodded in tacit straight-guy (and tipsy) approval.

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    Thursday, May 22, 2008

    When Fashion Met Music Videos

    Dean Mayo Davies on the perfect harmony...

    Fashion and music have had a powerful, symbiotic relationship ever since the advent of the rebel in the 50s, when wannabe James Deans could throw on a white tee, leather jacket and immerse themselves in the newly created rock & roll lifestyle. Every subculture since—Teds, Mods—has forged itself from the meld of a unifying philosophy and a fabricated identity. After all, every army needs a uniform. In the 70s, Westwood, McLaren and the Sex Pistols collided in the ultimate blow-up of youth culture, and introduced (anti-)branding to the equation. Of course, today's tribes—bubblers, moshers, indie kids, ravers et al—have the music video, where their creations can remain as untouchable, intangible, beguiling, provocative and sexy as ever. And fashion labels haven't been slow to see the potential...

    1. The Kills: Last Day Of Magic

    This is the forthcoming release from the London-based, chain-smoking vegans VV (aka Alison Mosshart) and Hotel (aka Jamie Hince—yes, Mr. Kate Moss, in yet another link to fashion). Jamie has explained that the vengeful lyrics are about "being in a place and wanting someone who has abandoned you to be there." Thus, the setting, naturally, is Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Obsessives will note that Alison rocks her well-worn gold Dior Homme boots from fall/winter 05, which may or may not be the reason Jamie is fighting with her (who wouldn’t commit a little bodily harm for to get their hands on those?). In a brainy blur of leopard print, literature, black, scarves, art, tailoring and drainpipe jeans, the duo's myth is built with this video. The most alluring band in the world today, surely.

    2. Róisín Murphy: Let Me Know

    Róisín continues her persona as post-Saturday Night Fever street diva in this track from last year's Overpowered LP, strutting into a greasy-spoon cafe in a Margiela square-shouldered cape, Corto Moteldo bag and flying-saucer hat. The genius of Róisín's creative direction is the juxtaposition of a cartoonish surrealism with a more mundane daily existence, creating a tension that doesn't take itself too seriously. You'll remember her previous video featured her on the night bus wearing a Gareth Pugh foil coat with inflatable collar, while her latest video, Movie Star, is set to feature Richard Mortimer, of BoomBox fame, and performance artist Scottee.

    3. Sonic Youth: Sugar Kane

    Sonic Youth played at Marc Jacobs' fall 08 show, a true fashion moment for those who were there. They banged out Jams Run Free and Kool Thing, but it's not the first time these old friends have collaborated, not even close. Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore posed in 2003 for a Juergen Teller-shot Marc Jacobs campaign, but way back in 1993 they set their Sugar Kane video in Marc's showroom, featuring his notorious Grunge collection for Perry Ellis, the stuff of fashion folklore. The clip also marks Chloë Sevigny's first appearance on film.

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    Friday, March 7, 2008

    Fall tips from stylist Haidee Findlay-Levin (part one of three)...

    Everywhere I looked at the fall collections I saw fur, leather, skins and hides—from black fur stoles and cuffs at Lanvin to a tunic covered in camouflage tails at Louis Vuitton and a massive fur cardigan coat from Ann Demeulemeester. The prefurred color is blue from Dries Van Noten (left) or Anne Valérie Hash, but if blue isn't your thing, look no further than Marni for a dusty-pink cropped chubby. Exotic furs not for you? You can still discover your inner beast with Mongolian sheepskin sleeves from Toga or a lavender Mongolian sheepskin jacket from Ann Demeulemeester, as well as crocodile-skin dresses at Zucca and leather-front dresses and jackets at Yohji Yamamoto with the hide's raw edges still intact. Feathers, too, stalked the runways, starting with an asymmetric collar trimmed with the lightest of ostrich plumes at Haider Ackermann and ending with a slightly tougher black ostrich-feather skirt from Christian Lacroix. Meanwhile, pony skin was a favorite at Anne Valérie Hash, superbly cut into body-skimming turtlenecks and a jumpsuit variation.

    It's all about pastels for fall. My sights are set on mint green and powder blue cashmere, molten wool and duchess satin at Louis Vuitton. Choose from an exquisite bell-shaped blue skirt, a magnificently tailored jacket with perfectly rounded edges, a liquid silk blouse or a full-on, floor-length, positively regal evening gown, if you have the occasion for it. Marc Jacobs' own line, too, was full of the softest pastels. Vanessa Bruno, meanwhile, showed a variety of pastels in full Mongolian sheepskin hats combed out and looking like a well-conditioned punk hairdo. But best from her were the palest of antique pink and sage green marabou chubbies, the color and lightness of a butterfly's wings.

    Bundle up in hand-knit ruffled capelets and shrugs from Tao Comme des Garçons (left) in vivid shades of pink and violet, while contrasting them with blue mohair bloomers. Or keep it neutral in natural or black and wear one of her cake-layered cable dresses. If volumes of ruffles and cables aren't for you, indulge your punk side with the designer's multicolored mohair knit/silk-backed tunic tops or dresses. That is, if you haven't already indulged in Rodarte's wonderful colored mohair knit tops and bell skirts. Don’t stop until you have their mohair open-knit stockings, the best hosiery moment of the season.

    Laddered mohair stockings wouldn't be complete without those white or rose gold studded and spiked high heels that Christian Louboutin designed for Rodarte. They can do damage! But the next wonder of the world might just be the black leather heelless thigh-highs from Antonio Berardi, a sexy homage to artist Alan Jones, whose glass tabletops rested on the back of a girl on all fours—perhaps a safer way to wear them! I was a little surprised that Louis Vuitton showed such dangerously high wedges after last season’s more reasonable winklepicker inspiration. But on closer examination, I realized there was a sliver of light passing through some of them and that there were, in fact, skinny skyscraper in the heels. Fantastic! I also loved the strength and sculptural quality in the Brancusi-looking white heels at Miu Miu. Especially when worn in sharp contrast to the minimal clothes of the collection, they could really be one of the key accessories of fall.

    If you're more about bags than shoes, make it a clutch. I'm not just talking evening bag clutches, but huge leather envelopes from Dries Van Noten worn throughout the day. Although not as large as the house's oversized collars, Maison Martin Margiela also showed a massive clutches (left), as did Véronique Leroy in both her own collection and Leonard. These clutches, of course, were fantastic printed versions.

    The intricately printed latex dresses at Balenciaga are another way to satisfy your fetishistic side—and without dressing, predictably, in all black. Dries Van Noten's continuation of vivid and bold floral prints was big hit, particularly the pod-sleeved column dresses, although his abstract print trouser suits were also spectacular. If you prefer tiny rather than bold prints, you can't ignore his floor-length Fortuny-pleated dresses or the high-necked cap-sleeved dress completely covered in tiny printed ruffles.

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    Sunday, February 10, 2008

    New York Fashion Week: Marc Jacobs

    A shoeless Suleman Anaya hoofs it to Marc Jacobs...

    Okay, I almost missed the show. Expecting it to start on time after the transatlantic outcry over last season's two-hour delay, I was traveling well on schedule when the heel came off my beloved vintage Redwings. Horror of horrors! But passion overrode panic and I decide to brave it. After all, a Marc show can't be missed simply because of a dumb boot. So, mortified, I entered the Armory hoping the assembled beau-monde wouldn't notice my shuffling gait, only to be caught in a flurry of flashlights. Thankfully, the paps weren't trying to capture my mishap for the "What Was He Thinking?" section of The Star; they were going crazy over Victoria Beckham in a sequined burgundy sheath. Then, in what seemed to be an unspoken accord between us, Posh struck a few mechanical iterations of her freaky sexbot pose while I discreetly minced beside her, dangling sole in tow. She really is a doll.

    Because of the contretemps, by the time I was finally inside, security guards weren't letting people to their assigned seats—Marc wanted the show to start. So I grabbed a spot at the bottom of the bleachers right by the comely feet of Julia Restoin-Roitfeld, who smiled and graciously made room for my little derriere. (Interesting that Mlle JRR wasn't sitting in one of the VIP booths with Maman.) At least I didn't get stuck behind the bleachers like so many others, who thus totally missed the show.

    Seated inside, the first thing I noticed was that everything looked very different from previous seasons. For starters, there was no runway. Missing, too, was the Met-worthy staging we've become accustomed to. Instead, the place looked like a cross between a rock venue and an old-school nightclub, with a gargantuan stage, concert lighting and tall scaffolding. Flanking the stage were black leather booths filled with the usual suspects: the Bensimons, the Baileys and the Cunninghams of the world, Marc's buddies Debbie Harry and John Currin, the obligatory indie hollywood contingent (Selma, Vincent) and this season's specimen of pop detritus (remember Lil' Kim?): K-Fed!

    The clothes. Well, yes, like everyone and her PA has told you, the show started on time. At about 7:20, Sonic Youth started playing and out came the models. You couldn't miss that in a complete reversal from last season's brainy sex theme, the models were all wrapped in cocoony silhouettes in what looked like pastels. Pastels? Yes, there actually was a baby blue cashmere coat. Also on parade were burka-like headscarves, funny triangular hats, mad puffy headbands (thanks to the genius of Stephen Jones) and incredible lamé pantsuits. It was all very covered-up and cut away from the body.

    It wasn't even 7:40 when the show ended and discussion shifted to the merits of the collection. As usual the audience was split into two extreme groups: "loved it" and" hated it," with no room for measured opinions. Others debated whether or not to join Marc at his after-party, where M.I.A. was slated to DJ, or head to the Jeremy Scott shindig at Mansion. Alas, for me it was time to jump in a cab home with my sad broken boot, which, by the way, nobody seems to have noticed.

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