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undercoverjeans.bsky.social
clothes junkie
@undercoverjeans.bsky.social
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undercoverjeans.bsky.social
Hedi Slimane Saint Laurent Fall, 2013.

Review by Tim Blanks.
California grunge was the inspiration for Hedi Slimane's second women's collection for Saint Laurent. Though the huge banners outside the Grand Palais still proclaimed "YSL" in the old typeface, that is more likely to be one last wrinkle of the past on the list to be ironed out, rather than an oversight on the part of a man whose yen for control is legend—to the point where you might almost think the stifling heat of the venue was his way to establish an ambience (an afternoon on Venice Beach, perhaps?). The collection was set up as an extension of the menswear Slimane showed in January. The music today was from the San Francisco garage band Thee Oh Sees, who are part of the same scene as Ty Segall, the man responsible for January's fantastic soundtrack. The invitation arrived as the same little black artist's book, this time reproducing the rather wonderful paintings of young L.A. painter Theodora Allen. The art blog Little Paper Planes says her "carefully researched paintings expertly skirt nostalgia to examine longing and legacy." With a little adjustment, that's a pretty fair description of what Slimane has been trying to do with Saint Laurent. The legacy today was grunge, not YSL; the longing was his own ardent attachment to a scene that was a continent and an ocean away from a kid in Paris at the beginning of the nineties. Slimane is not the only designer motivated by a powerful impulse to reimagine youthful yearnings. Anna Sui and Marc Jacobs immediately spring to mind as masterful mediums of pop-cultural watersheds like The Factory or the Beats. And of course, it was Jacobs who famously lost a job over his original recasting of grunge in a high-fashion context. But there was no job on the line, no sense of present danger, with Slimane's collection today. And with regards to that adjustment, there was no expert skirting of nostalgia. Almost nothing looked new. Which didn't trouble Alexandra Richards, Alison Mosshart, and Sky Ferreira in the least. Such dream clients were all thrilled by what they'd seen. "That's the way I dress anyway," was their party line on the baby dolls, the schoolgirl slips, the vintage florals, the random mash-ups of sloppy cardigans, plaid shirts, and sparkly dresses accessorized with ironic strings of pearls and black bows, fishnets and biker boots. All well and good, and money in the bank for retailers etc., etc., but anyone expecting the frisson of the future that Slimane once provided would have to feel let down yet again. At the odd moments when he allowed it to happen—as in a cutaway jacket over a plaid shirt over slashed black leather cuissardes—there was a glimpse of the kind of rigorous sensibility that hybridized passion and fashion into an irresistible force at Dior Homme. But wouldn't it be radical if Slimane was actually saying that there is nothing new under the fashion sun, that all that ultimately exists is the energy and inspiration you derive from those elements of the past that you value and love. The same kind of fanboy ardor makes, say, Shibuya 109 in Tokyo or Trash and Vaudeville in New York such wonderful retro romps. This collection will undoubtedly send orgasmic tremors through such places.
November 26, 2024 at 6:58 PM
undercoverjeans.bsky.social
Christophe Decarnin Balmain Spring, 2009.

Review by Sarah Mower.
If you're hot, don't stop! The buzz around Christophe Decarnin's Balmain is a smack in the eye for fashion doom-mongering. With vintage Madonna on the soundtrack, his Spring show—all bling and rock-chick fabulousness—gave the opening of Paris fashion week a shot of pure adrenalin. For a girl looking for an instant backstage pass, this is the wardrobe that will send her sailing past the heaviest security on sight. Drummer-boy Michael Jackson jackets with the frogging picked out in crystal, souped-up stonewashed jeans, bandage-wrap dresses, sequin-smothered sheaths, teeny tutus, teetering sky-high diamanté-and-stud sandals: Every after-party dream is answered here. It's the kind of shameless pop-bedazzled energy that won Gianni Versace a reputation for tackiness in the high eighties, but also took him to the top. In other words, yes, it's a cliché, but so well done only a true miserablist could fail to smile. The thing that separates Decarnin's Balmain from rehashed tat is the execution. The guy has Parisian couture skills up his sleeve—a super-skinny sleeve, finessed upwards into a brilliant new shoulder with a bump-peaked swagger on jackets and dresses. (The eighties never looked like that.) He's also got to be credited as the person who's set the wagons rolling on western (his fringed high-heel ankle boots were last season's most-hunted objects of footwear desire). Now he's following on with something in the same direction: A black suede gown with a rawhide train blazed a trail that copyists will be following overnight.
November 26, 2024 at 2:03 AM
undercoverjeans.bsky.social
Riccardo Tisci Givenchy Fall, 2013.

Review written by Nicole Phelps.
“Just beautiful. Riccardo Tisci's Givenchy show tonight was one of those fashion moments that true believers slog through four weeks of shows for. It gave you goose bumps. Antony Hegarty of Antony and the Johnsons, a longtime friend of the designer's, performed three songs, establishing a mood that was heartfelt and tender. He opened with "You Are My Sister." Tisci, of course, is the youngest of nine children, all the others girls. This collection was the Givenchy frontman at his most personal and romantic, riffing on pieces from his eight-year history at the house, the faint whiff of nostalgia balanced by its fierce nowness.” Fun for the audience, too, who checked off the references as they came strutting by on striped snakeskin boots. No one is more responsible for fashion's current fixation on the sweatshirt than Tisci; acknowledging the fact, he opened with a new one, its front emblazoned with Bambi, more Disney-cute than his previous prints. A grunge element came through in plaids and leathers, and oversize sweaters got a fair share of his attention, too; one was paired with a sheer tulle ankle-length skirt embroidered with purple and yellow flowers that called to mind the designer's panthers and lilies collection. As boyish as the sweatshirt is, one of Tisci's big ideas this season put the accent on the feminine. A significant number of the looks were cinched at the waist with Perfectos whose tops had been shorn off—glorified belts, really, that created a provocative, peplumed silhouette. And let us not forget the flowers and paisleys, which bloomed and swirled on butch jackets and sheer femme skirts, in lush contrast to the monastic whites and blues of Spring. The models wore matching bracelets from which dangled big, engraved medals. A fitting accessory for what could very well go down as the show of the season. Swarmed by friends and fans backstage, he said, "I always go to the Givenchy archives. By accident I was in the room with all my stuff, and I found things I did when I was younger that I did here in different ways. It's eight years this season that I've been at the house. I was like a gypsy—you know, gypsies are always recycling old clothes. It was really one of the most fun collections I've done in my career."
November 25, 2024 at 2:22 AM