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Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Headline Trip

Carine Roitfeld shares her sought-after style secrets. And although they involve more than smudged eyeliner and see-through clothes, they don't hurt either. [Times UK]

It's all grunge and glory for Kate Moss and her latest Topshop offering. [Vogue UK]

Mary J. Blige is teaming up with Gucci for an old-fashioned bash—a sign that Fashion Week is returning to normal? [Fashion Week Daily]

The new Vogue Hommes Japan channels hard-hitting glamour and pole-dancing realness—no word if Madonna choreographed. [Nicola Formichetti]

Munchkin muses The Olsens get their props with a Cathy Horyn preview of The Row. (And here, because we couldn't resist, is a funny old pic of them working Napolean-Smurf chic.) [On the Runway]

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Monday, August 24, 2009

Headline Trip

Since it'd be too obvious to just go into fashion, Vladimir Restoin-Roitfeld is opting to curate another art show with a New York Fashion Week launch. [NY Observer]

Mystic revelations from Chloe Sevigny and Joe Denardo fuel the hysteria surrounding Opening Ceremony's Tokyo launch. [Daily Beast]

Now you can get your nails did with the likes of Carri Mundane at WAH in East London. Hipsters were bound to show up. [The Moment]

Is Grace Coddington Vogue's secret puppet master? The September Issue is rife with juicy secrets. [Page Six]

The second issue of LOVE hits newsstands today, featuring Miss Piggy in Marc Jacobs and Allegra Versace flirting with the family business. [LOVE]

WAH Nails

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Saturday, February 21, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Rad Hourani

As I’m about to get my post-show turn with Rad Hourani, I'm brushed aside—quite unceremoniously, I might add—by a small army of PR assistants ushering in Vogue's European Editor-at-Large, Hamish Bowles. As his glamorous title suggests (and which I note for sheer envy), he's hardly a rare sighting during Fashion Week. Yet, with his penchant for tortoise shell and tweed, it was a bit surprising to see him standing backstage among Hourani's conceptual feats of architectural knits, black leather, geometric cut-outs and precarious unisex heels. The look is hard, uncompromising, aggressive and rapturous.

But then, Hourani's fall '09 show was already causing quite a stir. He had refined his lexicon while expanded his vocabulary with complex layers entwined with accessories, jewelry and metallic flashes—all overseen by legendary stylist Patti Wilson, who consulted on the show. Longtime collaborator with Steven Meisel, she's been responsible for championing a unique brand of dark glamour—the perfect complement to Hourani's vision. The result was even more concentrated Hourani goodness, as he noted, once I finally reached him: “It was a continuation from the beginning, but I felt like doing more, having a bit of fun but in a slick way.”

But this hadn't solved the Bowles mystery, so at the after-party at Gold Bar, I wondered aloud to Hourani if we'd be spotting the impeccably groomed Monsieur Dapper with a new dark look. “He did come by the showroom to try on some of the collection,” Hourani answered. Even the boots? “Well, boys have gotten quite good at walking in those heels!”

—Franklin Melendez

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Thursday, February 19, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Anna Sui

The Citizens Band's Sarah Sophie Flicker...

Last night I went to Anna Sui, who's a hero of mine and such a gentle, lovely woman. I adore her shows, which are like nothing else. They feel so big and theatrical and energized. I also love her aesthetic and the fact that, over the years, I've collected pieces of hers that I still wear—even a decade later. I admire her consistency, but also her ability to take what she loves and constantly reinvent it. This show was no different. I melted into her world completely, and wanted to go home and throw on patterns, colors, velvet, flowers, feathers and just be an absolute romantic magpie.

Anna Sui

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New York Fashion Week: Day 7

Today I checked out Victorinox, designed by the dashing Pierre Henri Mattout. Not really my thaaang, but the clothes are great for the minimalist in need of a new hoodie. And a be-kilted Marc Jacobs is obviously a fan since he raced backstage to give a bear hug to Pierre. For me, the show was secondary to the space. In a cast-iron, glass-domed space inside the New York Public Library, I found myself gaping at the architecture and less at the clothes, although I found an aubergine Swiss Army knife on my seat. Score!


Killing time before the next event, I hit up the J.Press store and found a stellar sale. Thanks to the prepster label, my collegiate look is complete for spring, with a duck-print belt, hyper-colored plaid shirt and a smattering of silk shantung bowties.

Then I cabbed it to the National Arts Club for an art opening hosted by Patrick McDonald. The Duckie Browns were there, as was Stephen Knoll, Kenny Kenny and tie guy David Hart. After a boozy meal, we headed over to the Gramercy Park Hotel for a night cap on the roof and a peek over the hedge to see what fashion party was happening, since the host said he was were sworn to secrecy. Hoping to spot Donatella or even Kanye on the other side, I only found a bunch of garmentos at a bash for some tired label. Sigh. I guess they're the only ones who can afford a splashy party these days.

—Cator Sparks

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Wednesday, February 18, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Rodarte

The usually serene Gagosian gallery in far west Chelsea resembled a circus yesterday as the Mulleavy sisters showed their fall Rodarte collection to a packed house. Seconds after the signal was given to start the show, Purple's Olivier Zahm could be seen running to his seat next to Milla Jovovich, while some front-rowers who arrived late were asked to stand. One of these, an allegedly pregnant lady-who-lunches type, wasn't having it and caused a little stir as she scrambled, like a blowed-out hen in heat, for the nearest empty seat.

The collection? A knock-out. Gone are Rodarte's romantic days of wispy ruffles and folksy appliqués. The new collection is unabashedly tough and forward-looking. A succession of Ghesquièrian minidresses came out paired with S&M-y boots by Nicholas Kirkwood that seemed to go all the way up to the lady business. With its crinkled fabrics and tattered leathers shot through with silver, copper and lamé, each dress was a little work of art, almost worthy of the Hiroshi Sugimoto works that hung in the same room until Saturday.

After the show, the big question—for me, at least—wasn't what Kirsten Dunst thought of it or how Milla looked so ravishing, but what mysterious attendee came and left in a gorgeous emerald-green, chauffeured Bentley? This I pondered as I, like the rest of us ordinary folk, hailed my sad little yellow cab.

—Suleman Anaya


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New York Fashion Week: Day 6

First stop was Trovata, another fairly safe collection, but we always love what John has to offer and his outwear was top drawer. The catwalk made for an amusing situation. With candles placed strategically, the models got a bit confused and often twirled around twice before figuring out how to get out of the maze.


I then hiked over to the tents for Max Azria. To my delight there was a box of chocolates on every seat—no YogaToes or crappy shampoos! Thank you, Max. The collection was kind of Daphne Guinness with lots of severe angles, plum colors and collar embroidery—Daphne on a dime.

Finally I took a break from fashion and headed to the Film Forum to catch the closing night of Chiara Clemente's documentary, Our City Dreams, profiling four women artists in New York City. The movie was exceptionally shot and yet another reason why I still love living up here in Yankee territory. Well done, Chiara!

Now I must get in my Emily Post post. Front-row people should not use Blackberries during a collection. I could write a thousand blind items about all the rude socialites and even editors clacking away in their seats. I’m sure whoever you are texting can wait till a show is finished. Life will go on. Promise.

—Cator Sparks

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Monday, February 16, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Jeremy Laing

By Franklin Melendez...

I sat directly behind a comely yet disconcertingly composed twelve-year-old, clad in purple tights, flippy skirt, boucle jacket and yes, even a satin hair ribbon. Perched in Jeremy Laing's front row with other social jewels, the prep-school princess kept cozy company with top editors, including Teen Vogue's Aya Kanai and most of the Harper’s Bazaar team crammed into a tight little corner. Annoying, yes, but her diminutiveness allowed me full view. Then there was the glittery support of Jeremy's friends (and fellow Canadians) artist Terrence Koh, cocooned in nubbly black, and legendary queer radical daddy, AA Bronson, in signature ZZ Top beard.

As for the collection, it was nothing short of exquisite, an incisive exploration of architectural shapes, fabric innovation and modern adornment. There were some re-imaginings of previous interests, such as minerals and crystal shapes, which were translated into bold proportions and lush treatments, such as a strong-shouldered coated wool coat that glistened unctuously like a faceted piece of fresh coal. It was as if Laing were re-channeling some of that initial spirit that made him such a talent to watch in the first place.

Wanting to delay the trek down nine flights of stairs after the show, I caught up with Mr. Bronson, to ask his thoughts on the collection: "Well, we’re friends of Jeremy’s, and we enjoyed the show immensely! We don't get invited to that many shows. But it's funny—when we're in Paris, we actually get invited to many more!” They have better taste, I assured him, before inquiring about current projects: "Right now I'm working on a seance called Invocations of the Queer Spirits, which is gonna happen on Governor’s Island. It's an old 18th-century stone prison that’s basically a big graveyard. It was an all-male prison which has seen a lot of action.” And that, pretty much says it all.

Jeremy Laing

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Sunday, February 15, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Erin Fetherston

The Citizens Band's Sarah Sophie Flicker on her pixie friend...

Let me preface this by saying that I've been plagued by walking pneumonia this winter, so everything I see is filtered through a lens of antibiotics, cold medication and some good old-fashioned consumption. But neither hell nor high water could keep me away from Erin's show, so I rallied and gathered some other Citizens Band ladies and trotted on over.

Erin said she was really excited about this show, but nothing could have prepared me for just how wonderful it was—the whimsy, girlish fantasy and so much more. The music began with the sound of a music box, and it was as if we were transported to some magical fairytale. Russian dolls and ballerinas appeared in layered, vintage-like skirts and sleeves poufed in just the right places, while models who looked a little like soldiers marched past in pants that were cool and cigarette-y. Some of the tutu dresses, in rich and warm colors, made me itch for toe shoes.

The make-up was the perfect Biba-esque 70s does the 30s and the hair was so incredible with big bows, crimped buns and huge tall hats. And there were animal masks covered in glitter that truly made me swoon.

Okay, I know this all sounds super girly, but I promise you, the collection had an elegence and sexiness that I haven't seen from Erin. The girls were like the Russian émigrés in one of my favorite books, Beauty In Exhile—theatrical, cultured, dramatic yet grounded, confident and smart. I sat with my gal posse and we bounced up and down and clapped, oooohing and aaaahing. I know we'll go to sleep dreaming of the magic we saw and where we can wear it.

The after-party was in the oh-so-beautiful Rose Room at the Gramery Hotel, which, on its own, is so cozily gorgeous, but tonight it was swaying and tipping its hat to Erin. And that is the beauty of Erin; she really makes people happy. Her light is infectious!

Erin Fetherston

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Saturday, February 14, 2009

Your First Look: Alexander Wang

New York Fashion Week: Day 2

First off, at the tents I was amused when I took a break in the VIP lounge—free food, people!—and asked the bartender how he was doing. His response: “Hey, free booze and hot chicks.” Well said, my friend.

Highlights from the day were Duckie Brown and David Delfin's shows, where it was all about proportion—very Balenciaga for boys.

Duckie Brown

CFDA/GQ award winner Robert Geller was a fave, the inspiration being turn-of-the-century Viennese imperial fops. Right up my ascot.

Victor Glemaud and Camilla Staerk joined forces for a dual fashion show, which was top drawer. Hot boys in knits and sassy ladies in flowy gowns.

Victor Glemaud

Wrapping up the day, I took a gander at the McQ for Target collection, which had fashion mavens disrobing on the spot, trying on tops, dresses and tees.

Finally, ever notice how people drone on about how tired they are from Fashion Week, then end up in your face at 4 am at an after-party? That was us last night, at Vic and Cam's after-party, where all the most amusing people landed: Vogue's Lauren Santo Domingo and Meredith Melling Burke, Philip Crangi, Kate Lanphear of Elle and KCD's Adam Shapiro. Then someone bought shots and I was done.

Now for blind item goodness. Which gossip editor just lost loads of weight and sashayed into the tents wearing an outfit he couldn’t fit into for ten years, only to realize hours later that his fly was agape?

—Cator Sparks

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Friday, February 13, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Day 1

Mary Poppins must have been the honorary muse to kick off Fashion Week because yesterday was one blustery day.

It was also a day of international male debuts, most notably Jurgen Oeltjenbruns, who returned to the American menswear scene with a well-tailored collection inspired by cold-weather uniforms. Those Germans always know how to keep toasty.

Jurgen Oeltjenbruns

Next was the debut women's line from Bibhu Mohapatra, formerly of J. Mendel and originally from India. A highlight from the collection was a hand-loomed peacock feather coat that this dandy wanted to rip off the model and strut out the door with. Vogue's Lauren Santo Domingo did the styling, resulting in a calm and cool 20s' sensibility.

Bibhu Mohapatra

Finally, former Bill Blass designer Prabal Gurung sent out a stunning collection that turned out the ladies in the house—as well as some of the menz, who were giving snaps and "Gurl betta wurk!" shout-outs. One of them, our fave drag queen Brandy Wine, was the first to speak to Prabal when Bill Blass folded, telling him to keep the momentum going and launch his own line. Ta da!

Dinner was supposed to be a break from the fashion pack, but when Linda Wells and Jon Bon Jovi rolled into The Little Owl, all eyes were on the center table.

Oh, and you heard it hear first. Kesner, New York's swankest new men's store, will be carrying Westwood Man for fall, the only place in the U.S. to carry the line. Here's hoping the recession has lifted by September!

—Cator Sparks

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Monday, February 9, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Alexandre Herchcovitch

If you've been wondering what Brazilian designer Alexandre Herchcovitch has in store for his fall collection on February 18, take a gander at these fittings photos from the same collection shown in Sao Paulo a couple of weeks ago...

Isabeli Fontana in the first look

Daiane Conterato


Photos Rafael Assef, styling Maurizio Ianes

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Sunday, February 8, 2009

New York Fashion Week: Rad Hourani

Minimalist designer Rad Hourani, whose color palette for spring is all black, tells us he'll incorporate more color in his fall show on February 20. That must be the influence of his style consultant this season, Patti Wilson. Here's a taste, in-black and-white of course...

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Sunday, September 14, 2008

Modelizer: Hanne Gaby Odiele

On a slow day of New York shows, Hint's backstage photographer, Sonny Vandevelde, spent an afternoon with Belgian model Hanne Gaby Odiele (Women)—waiting, rushing, getting lost, frolicking and waiting some more...

Wincing from a sprained wrist (from two weeks ago) backstage at the Bryant Park tents
Hanne with friend and sometime roommate Kasia Struss

Hanging out after Proenza Schouler with model Rachel Clark
Hanne on the subway, going to a fitting

Looking for the address
Grateful for directions

Getting a quick hot dog
Grossed out by the quick hot dog

Fooling around while waiting at the fitting

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Monday, September 8, 2008


Guest blogger Casey Spooner takes a break from Fischerspooner to take in the sights and sounds of Fashion Week...

I haven't been the most fashionable New Yorker this week. Maybe I'm jaded. Maybe I'm smarter. Maybe a little of both. I came off a challenging performance and last-minute whirlwind trip to Italy. It sounds glamourous (and it is), but it is also rather taxing. And of course I threw in a secret live show at Santos Party House the day after our return, to kick off Fashion Week.

That same evening I was planning on swinging by the Interview party at the new Standard Hotel. I was excited about seeing the amazing building and I'm a big fan of the new Interview. I love the redesign, and the editorial and fashion content is a vast improvement. Bravo! The current Kate Moss cover is great, and don't even get me started on the print job! The metallic paper is kicking my ass. (I'm a geek for good production value.) But, alas, the soundcheck ran late and I needed a meal, so I was not to attend. But we had fun at Santos doing a few songs and staying up way too late.

The next day I had to sleep in and later opted for a viewing of HAIR at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park. I highly suggest seeing anything in that amazing space. Saturday I had every intention of going to the Loden Dager and Threeasfour shows, but I just couldn't get out of bed until 3 pm, then I had to go to the studio to start a two-week recording/writing session. So I bailed on everything fashion, started composing a new song, grabbed a meal at the corner Japanese cafe and fell asleep in my clothes that night.

After sleeping for no fewer than ten hours, I woke up yesterday feeling refreshed and ready to try it all again. And this time I actually made it to something. First was the Y-3 show. I'm a major fan of Y-3 and I have a real weakness for freaky sportswear. One of my favorite shops in the world is La Maison de Santé in Brussels. They have the best knee braces and weird therapeutic sports-related paraphernalia. Of course I'm a slut for Y-3 sneakers, always, and there was one black man-skirt with hightops that looked great.

Last night was all about Calvin Klein's 40th anniversary party at the Highline park. Talk about production values! It was incredible, like a spaceship of a Fire Island beach house had landed at the corner of 30th Street and 10th Avenue. The entrance was gigantic with a huge video billboard, and the spectacle continued every step of the way. Inside you're struck by a MoMA-esque interior filled with very modern-looking people and black-clad, perfectly sculpted muscle-boy waiters. Off to the right and down the hall was a James Turrell sculpture—and it was beautiful, a luminous rectangle of blue in a darkened room. Initially I thought it was a video projection of blue light, but soon I realized we cast no shadows as we gathered around.

Up the giant staircase and out the back, the party spilled onto the renovated Highline railway—and my jaw remained dropped. Past the initial glut of fabulous people, a promenade was constructed that ran all the way from 10th to 11th Avenue, lined with thousands of long-stem white roses. The fragrance was intoxicating and the decadence was impressive. But wait, there's more. After hanging out with Mike Furey and Tom Napack from the band Dangerous Muse, I bumped into Martha Stewart and told her that she's our Warhol, upon which she wanted her picture taken with us.

—Casey Spooner

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Sunday, September 7, 2008

New York Fashion Week: Threeasfour

Deep math makes flames and the sun is a fractal that exploded on Threeasfour leggings. The perfect, odd shapes of nature—the theme Gabi, Adi and Ange have been obsessing about since forever, for this collection more literally than ever—sidled up more beguilingly than you'd expect. Gone are their blatant sci-fi asymmetrical vagina references, replaced by such creatures as a stingray, represented as flaps on soft skirts and shorts that wrapped around the hips, as if wing-like pockets were pulled out and tied at the coccyx. They showed us the sea as we mythologize it: gentle at sunrise, softly fluttering with arresting bits of strangeness as the tide subsides. As such, in their collection, Threeasfour spiraled silk around the body like a shell, flattened jellyfish bibs on dresses and fastened actual shells onto leather. And at the end, Aphrodite rose from a metaphorical cushion of foam—or rather, the taupe and white ensembles that preceded her—wearing a dress of tinkling capiz-shell discs.

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Saturday, September 6, 2008

Setting Your RVCA

Erin Wasson's a smart lass who knows that when people go to a fashion presentation in the Lower East Side, one where the ratio of models (and former models who've smoked their way to early retirement) to civilians is skewed toward the former, there’s no point in putting on a runway show. Instead, for the launch of Erin Wasson x RVCA, she hung up giant posters of herself wearing her designs for the skatewear brand—or rather, of her basically spilling out of her designs, not that I'm complaining one bit—and threw a party so nuts that within the first hour a bunch of guests got stuck in the elevator and had to be axed out. (Or at least that’s what the friendly fireman wielding the enormous chopping tool told me.) We did see one look put to the test, the one Erin was wearing all night. In lace-up, low-waist, flare-leg jeans and beach-girl cotton tank that scooped up right at the small of her back, revealing a total lack of a tramp stamp, she swayed on the dance floor to a rapt audience. It was as close to a live show as we got. Only one person dared approach what felt like her sacred space, but that didn’t stop a cheeky spirit from copping a feel when it seemed no one but a friend was looking.

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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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Saturday, February 9, 2008

New York Fashion Week: Rad Hourani

It's all about androgyny for French-Canadian designer Rad Hourani, whose towering models (all women, except for one, possibly) stormed out in vertical black leather sheaths, decoration-less short dresses over leggings, Japanese-like square backpacks, obsessively straight hair, and chunky scarves and other strappy bits that hung to the floor. To us, it was very futuristic shaman, à la Helmut Lang, but Rad (how much do you love the name, by the way?) told us backstage that he was inspired by Adam and Eve, and the combination thereof.

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Thursday, February 7, 2008

New York Fashion Week: Rodarte

You might assume, as we did, that Rodarte's fall collection was about punked-out ballerinas, with ripped stockings, studded stilettos and hot-pink tutus. But its designing sisters, the Mulleavys, use a more fine-toothed set of references. Sure enough, Kate Mulleavy told us backstage that they were inspired by kabuki theater and Japanese horror movies. We should have guessed from our peek in the goodie bag, which had a DVD of Ugetsu, director Kenji Mizoguchi's definitive Japanese ghost story from 1953.

Our video of Rodarte's spring 08 collection...

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Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Q&A: Frida Giannini

By now, you know all about Gucci's massive concert/auction/benefit/store launch tonight at the United Nations: the mega-draw (Madonna), the acts (Chris Rock, Alicia Keys), the slebs (Drew Barrymore, Gwyneth Paltrow). I caught up with Gucci creative director Frida Giannini for some tidbits you might not know...

This is a very special night for Gucci. What is it you hope to achieve?
Yes, it is very special indeed. We are raising money for both UNICEF and Raising Malawi, so we hope that the event is a huge success in every way. We are underwriting the entire evening, so 100% of funds generated goes to children affected by HIV and AIDS. Of course, it is also a party, so we hope that everyone has a great time.

Is there a larger message in having the fundraiser at the UN?
There is. The UN is a completely international place. It is bigger than New York, it is bigger than the United States. This global notion parallels the cause to which we are so dedicated. AIDS is a global crisis, one with which people from every country should be concerned. It is much larger than Africa, and we need to remind people of that.

Can we expect to see more grand gestures like this from Gucci?
This is a very special celebration for a very special occasion, the opening of the new Gucci flagship. We will have to wait and see what happens in the future!

The bag collections you've created for the new store look great. What was your inspiration?
Thank you. I wanted to create something extraordinary to parallel the beauty and scale of the new store. There are two collections of bags: the Heritage collection and the New York Exclusive collection. Heritage is a one-of-a-kind collection of bags that represent the ultimate in luxury. I looked through the archives and resurrected several iconic models that I reworked in skins. Additionally I resurrected a vintage print called "Leonardo," which was first created in the '50s. For this print I was inspired by the timing, as its introduction in 1953 coincided with the opening of the first Gucci New York boutique the same year. The New York exclusive bags are more playful, but also collector's items. The Gucci Loves New York bag is of course a tribute to this fantastic city. All proceeds from the Gucci Loves NY products will go towards the care and maintenance of the playgrounds in Central Park.

Can you tell us about your own love of New York? What fond memories do you have of our city?
New York is unlike any city in the world. It has inimitable energy. It is filled with such a multitude of different kinds of people, filled with culture, and filled with history. It is the only city where you can get anything you want at any hour, which I absolutely love. I have many fond memories of coming to New York, but some of my favorites are going vintage shopping with my design team in Soho. And each time I fly into New York and see the skyline of Manhattan, I am in awe.

The new Fifth Avenue store...

The exclusive bags...

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Tuesday, February 5, 2008

This just in from Adidas. For today's New York store launch, Y-3 introduces a limited-edition shoe (50 pairs only) made from the Japanese denim found in Yohji Yamamoto's atelier. The unisex shoe, called Nice to Meet You, retails for $500 and is available only at the new Y-3 store (317 West 13th Street, NYC)....

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We love Glass Candy so much we could eat a whole bag of her, and not only because she contributed music to our latest multimedia fashion shoot, Bright Angles. Here she is at last night's launch of Adidas Originals' new denim line by Diesel. Chromeo, in the other photo, also performed. How much do you love his his legs (the ones on his keyboard, that is)?

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New York Fashion Week: Tom Scott

Loved for his nubby knits, Tom Scott introduced woven and coated fabrics for fall, as well as the occasional metallic and fluorescent flash. While shaggy "cassette tape" hats, multiple layers and secretary skirts evoked a child's game of dress-up, Tom's discriminating eye for asymmetry, a dark color palette and an overall sense of dishabille kept the small collection within city limits. This was the latest in the slow, deliberate evolution of a future fashion star.

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New York Fashion Week: Patrik Ervell

From the very beginning, when he made red and blue windbreakers from a silicone-coated parachute material developed by the military, Patrik Ervell has always used high-tech fabrics in his men's line—but never in an over-the-top futuristic way. For fall, as he says in this video, the California native and UC Berkeley grad reworked gold thermal emergency blankets to convey a sense of protection, by which he means both actual protection from the elements and psychological armor. Either way, it's a new gold standard.

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Monday, February 4, 2008

New York Fashion Week: Band of Outsiders & Boy

For the uninitiated, Band of Outsiders is a relatively new men's line and, despite the name, Boy is its newer sister line. Both are designed by Scott Sternberg, both are based out of Los Angeles and both are about as preppy as anything you'll ever see, never more than their joint fall presentation, where prep oozed from every corner of the tableau vivant set up in a midtown showroom, from flannel-clad hunting prep to slick-haired collegiate prep. Standout pieces: navy vests with leather buttons, pleated corduroy skirts, shrunken oxfords, tartan cuffed pants and wool coat-dresses. Accessories have always been the core of both lines; for fall, they included cashmere knit ties, varsity gloves, trapper hats with raccoon trim and Band of Outsiders shoes for Sperry and Manolo Blahnik.

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New York Fashion Week: Robert Geller

Robert Geller never ventures far from his German roots. Even last season, when he was inspired by the fluorescence of life in California, it was Teutonically tempered with references to conceptual artist Joseph Beuys. Now, the former Cloak designer fully embraces "meaty" darkness with a nearly all-black fall collection based on "Measuring the World" by German author Daniel Kehlmann, a book about exploration of the real and spiritual wilderness. The show began with military officers in cadet pants, taut suspenders and buckled coats, and ended with nomadic monks in distressed leathers, Himalayan vests and blanket-sized scarves around their shoulders. Here, clips from the show and a backstage chat...

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Wednesday, January 23, 2008

This is the invitation to a screening of Bernhard Willhelm's "Men In Tights" short film, co-produced by Nick Knight, to present his fall men's collection. It was shown first at Paris men's week and now in New York on Feburary 1 at the Tribeca Grand. (By invitation only.) We're told to expect stockings, beards and, um, woodsy animals.

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