A Slimane Dress

A while ago, I learned that an acquaintance of mine was getting married. My husband knew her fiancé well and told me that Hedi Slimane was creating her wedding dress.

Huh? How on earth did she pull that off?

Hedi Slimane has been rumored to be looking into designing a women’s line, but to my knowledge, he’s strictly men’s wear.

So I alternated between perplexed and perplexed, until my husband told me he was joking. He’d seen an open copy of W nearby and pounced upon the first designer’s name he saw, hoping that it would be significant enough to make an impact on my delicate style constitution.

Mission accomplished.

But I do wonder what a Hedi Slimane wedding dress would look like.


*Image from Morgane Le Fay, a Soho favorite of mine.

The Garish Embarish Post

One of my favorite New York Magazine sections is the approval matrix. Last week in the despicable/highbrow section was a photo of Carrie in the SATC film with a large Louis Vuitton gift box in her hands. In the background was a circled snippet of a Bluefly shopping bag, with this (from memory) comment: “Bluefly? Carrie would never.”

Point well taken, but I was surprised that nothing was said about the content of that LV gift box Carrie was about to give her assistant. For inside lay a truly garish handbag in various shades of orange and yellow patent and jacquard. Louise (the recipient of said gift) made the requisite fuss, but I wonder whether she wasn’t a tad disappointed.

I mean, if you’re going to buy someone an LV bag, at least buy her a beautiful one. (Linda Grant makes a similar point on her Thoughtful Dresser blog.)

But now it seems that I have experienced a garish comeuppance. For I have just received (in the mail, ordered by moi, not as a gift) an exquisitely garish pair of shoes.

First, please note that I do not like yellow gold for myself—I’m a white gold grrrl. These shoes, however, are cracked* yellow-gold four-ish-inch high-heeled spectators with a creamy patent perforated toe (and a little cream patent around the heel). The gold buckle has a large-ish gold crown on it and the shoes are made by that supremely garish label (and I shudder to type this) Juicy Couture.

I have not fallen under Juicy’s spell these many years as Gela and Pam have left their garish mark on yoga sets, dresses, bags, advertisements, etc, etc. In fact, I have said “Yuck,” and looked to something more funkily elegant.

But I like these garish shoes of mine and think that they will be strangely wearable as a neutral.

What do you think? Is there a time when you can wear garish without feeling embarish?


*And to think I was just ranting about cracked leather on K.Line’s blog. Umm--oops!

Into the Wild Green Yonder

It’s off I go tomorrow for summer work and travels.

I expect to be online Tuesday and Wednesday of next week, but after that I’ll be ensconced in a little beachy cottage on PEI for about ten days sans wi fi. I’ll be drafting posts in the sand about seashell chic . . .

I’ll be back squarely in the virtual world by July 1, just in time for Canada Day! A post on red-and-white dressing? Maple leafs as accessories? (I can't wait to eat a proper box of Smarties.)

Of Muttons, Lambs, and Wilderbeasts

Did you grow up reading Seventeen? (Of course you did.) My aunt gave me my first copy in 1975, when I was far from the target age; indeed, I had just turned ten!

Earlier this year I was feeling nostalgic (sorry, DV!) and tracked down a copy on eBay. It was pure muscle memory as I physically re-experienced all the ads and editorials—Bonne Belle, Farrah for Wella. Ship 'n Shore, intarsia sweaters, and my favorite: Long and Silky shampoo.

How I loved those Long and Silky pictures. Girls with hair down to their waists, always shining, always swinging, never looking scarily cult-y.

I remember when there was a contest to locate readers with the longest, silkiest hair. The winners were photographed going to see Hair in New York, and I wished I could have been there too.

But when, if ever, should those long-and-silky locks be shorn? I had a haircut this afternoon, and we snipped two inches off my length (still safely below shoulders, though). Right now, long and silky for me would code mutton-as-lamb, and that’s not my vibe.

However, what if one wants one’s hair to be mutton? Or lamb? Or how about lion or elk or wilderbeast--or Irish setter?

Well, then, feast your eyes on these hair hats made by Japanese artist/filmmaker Nagi Noda.

They were photographed by Kenneth Cappello and have an otherworldly quality to them. I’d like to see them against a different background than the white sheet, though.

I could see Galliano using these hats in one of his productions, or Sheila Metzner photographing them in a fog-enveloped forest.

The punster in me hopes there’s a hare hat in the mix, or perhaps plans for a hare shirt, at least.

Tory Burch in the NYT

Yesterday the NY Times’ Critical Shopper, Cintra Wilson, published a piece on Tory Burch’s boutique.

I must say, I’m not sure what the TRB fuss is all about. I find the medallion on the best-selling Reva flats to be too large (and often, too gold).

I did, however, order a shift dress earlier this spring to check it out, but found that the material was too thick (kind of scuba-like; heavy, stretchy cotton blend) and the dress was too large in the bodice.

I had ordered the dress in the first place because its print reminded me of a favorite piece of upholstery fabric. (Sometimes you get what you ask for.)

That heavy fabric also felt how those celebrated TRB tunics look to me: stiff and, well . . . stiff.

Wilson noted that TB’s clothes evoked a “type of relaxed hippie chic with all the hippies tweezed out.” Incisive comment, that.

I think that there’s also a lot of starch in the TRB line. If the designer ever loosens up, though, and lets in a couple of hippies, I’d give her clothes another whirl.

That said, I quite like the dress pictured above (sans the necklace medallion, bien sur).

Is This A Word Yet?

Boot/sandals (boodals?) from Opening Ceremony.

Black embroidery on burlap, with open toe and heel.

Just the right mix: embellished eccentric.

Dreaming in Watercolor

I first saw this image on Miss White’s blog some time ago while I was waiting impatiently for my Vogue UK to be imported.

I love the watercolory pink-and-ceramic print, the snug belted waist, the chunky beads, the headdress, the socks, the shoes—it all looks just right. Of course it doesn’t hurt to have those strikingly wilted colors echoed in the surroundings—the open pink sack, the lavender sack the model’s sitting on, the jolt of pink running through her basket-weave.

I went straight to Marni’s online shop to locate this skirt and top and this is what I found:

I must say, I was underwhelmed. The shape of the dress is so boxy, with the sleeve cut at just what I’d call the universally least flattering length. (Top and skirt = sold out.)

(Sidenote: watch Tom Cruise in summer interviews. His peeps know exactly what cut of t-shirt sleeve to put on him and his bicep is usually flexed a la Rodin's "The Thinker" to show it off.)

There’s no showing off anything in this dress sleeve. I’d be rolling it up to stop my sartorial squirming from the unseemliness of it all.

I did find one wearable “top,” though, in my print of choice: this (very) low-backed tank:

There’s a minor issue of support, with such a plunging back, but if there weren’t, I could see this as wearable, with the right “this-old-thing” skirt, trouser, or even shorts.

So it’s back to the dreaming board, which is exactly where I feel like being right now.