Leandra Medine's Blog, page 600

Saint Laurent Over Gchat

Leandra: Hey! I just got back to my hotel from Saint Laurent. I cancelled my dinner plans and put on a robe and ordered a glass of red wine and smoked salmon to my room so I’m here for the rest of the U.S. day!!!!@@@@@

Did you look at Saint Laurent yet?

Amelia: That sounds like the nicest thing ever, can I have some? My Caravan of Broken Dreams salad isn’t here yet.

No is SL good? Hang on I’m going now

Why am I always playing catch up by Paris FW. I forget to look

Leandra: I don’t know why I like it so much. I’m looking at the pics on Vogue Runway now, I think you really have to be there to feel like you get it

There were rain boots and like, tiara bangs

And re: playing catch up — that’s a story. I think maybe your priorities are just different (in a good way)

Amelia: Are tiara bangs when your tiara sits on your forehead..like bangs?

This is an ode to Cocaine-era Kate Moss

Ok some of these dresses are really really pretty but man does Hedi Slimane fuck with people

Leandra: Doesn’t it also seem like post modern art a little bit?

Like he’s turning the lens of fast fashion on fast fashion

Knocking THEM off so that they can’t knock him off

I know that’s not post modern, but it’s manipulative in a really smart way. I think it just speaks to a really salient cultural condition. I just also kind of hate the condition.

Amelia: It is manipulative!

Hedi is a Sneaky Mom.

This is where looking at it online (only) is hard

I am just looking at the styling, and it looks super apathetic

(on purpose obviously)

Leandra: You can’t say he doesn’t know how to make a garment though — those slip dresses fit really well. Especially because they come with built-in nip slips.

Amelia: The styling’s like, “Ugh fucking prom.”

Leandra: When look 3 went down (jeans and trench), I was like…Glastonbury?

Amelia: IT IS

Leandra: But then this also presents a really important question for me, which I’ve been thinking about and mentioned in my Céline story that received exactly 1 comment

Which is that I’m not sure what’s smarter: the fashion or the writers who review the fashion. I think that we feed our own expectations by putting on rose-colored glasses when we’re at the shows of designers who we believe are masters of their craft

Amelia: What a statement!

That’s really true. It’s easy to favor a show because you favor the designer for whatever reason

Emperor’s New Clothes Syndrome

That long floral dress with the sequined sweater is so strangely beautiful though — even in the way that the sweater ruins it on purpose.

I think I’d like this look no matter where I saw it, and then pray that if I said that opinion out loud, it would be valitdated with, “Well, it’s Saint Laurent”

Leandra: I know we already compared Jeff Koons to Kim Kardashian, but there’s an air of Koons here, too, no? Think about his inflatable flowers. Who know how much those would cost to buy by Koons. They’re like $3.99 at the supermarket

Amelia: Yea well Slimane is subversive for the sake of performance, I think

He’s probably secretly at home with his newspaper and corduroys like, “kids these days”

But knows that this attitude gets people all riled up

Leandra: Look at McQueen btw. THAT is effort

Amelia: Ok hang on

What’s interesting, if we’re talking about art, is that I went to the Whitney last weekend and I walked around and so frequently was like, “I just don’t get this.”

Not all of it but a lot of it kind of made me roll my eyes. Buttt earlier this summer when I went to The Met to see the Sargent exhibit, I couldn’t leave the room, because it was like McQueen! More than anything you’re marveled by this technical ability to create beauty without it looking mechanic (and there’s a reason why you can spend an hour looking at a painting, but 5 seconds looking at that same painting in poster-format)

BRB to McQueen

Leandra: Well, that’s exactly it, right? The technical ability. I feel like that about Raf Simons — and Dries! They break down what’s difficult and present it to simply.

Amelia: Right

And it shows off the runway on the regular human too

Do you think you have to look like a Saint Laurent model for it to look high fashion though?

I think any woman could wear Dries and look chic

Leandra: Well no because you into the store and you’re just like FUCK THESE FABRICS FUCK THIS FIT

Why am I contemplating spending my rent money in here!?!?!?!?

Amelia: Hahah

bBtw I think Sarah Burton is the only other person in the world who loves a ruffle more than you

And no one loves a Chintz floral more than me and Ralph Lauren so thank you for incorporating that too, Sarah B

Leandra: Something for everyone!

Amelia: Actually that one SL dress I liked fits in to that print too

ok back to SL

Leandra: Wait, I’m gonna finish up this review on Stella/Sacai/Sonia Rykiel

But thanks for helping me through my thoughts on Saint Laurent

Amelia: kk wait question

all the black dresses at the end, did they look the same in person?

they do online because the images are dark

Leandra: OH at the end those final dresses (I think they’re couture) came out in a different light

Amelia: See. Reasons designers will always have SHOWS

Leandra: Well, that and being at the show gives you time to actually make an opinion. It’s just not the same as static images

Amelia: Oh truee. You go ruminate

Leandra: K, bye!

Photographs via Vogue Runway

Feature collage by Elizabeth Tamkin

The post Saint Laurent Over Gchat appeared first on Man Repeller.

From Paris: Stella McCartney, Sacai and Sonia Rykiel

Who decides what we want to wear? Is it us, or is it them?

How could we have been so convicted about all the black we wore on our backs just six months ago, when for the season that lays ahead, there’s a deluge of color in every crevice of Paris and a new sense of energy to which we are all seemingly subscribing? Stella McCartney, who alluded to dedication-to-theme last June for her resort 2016 collection with Cuban references running rampant through her collection, made the transition clear in her show notes, citing “an explosion of color, energy and movement” in her knit plaid polo dresses, which were ankle length and set off by both sneaker sandals and more of the indigenous swirly-embroidered dresses and two-pieces. There were also short dresses shown as tops over pants which seem to have become the equivalent of my using words like “deluge” and “seemingly” — comfortable vis-à-vis the creative process.

In Trocadéro, another prolific female designer, Chitose Abe for Sacai, showed a real storybook, which started with animated city prints that were cut apart and separated by horizontal plackets of lace. Those became a series of bandana dresses, which I loved because they took a popular detail (bandanas) and turned them on its head. There were slit pants that revealed the totality of the female leg, seemingly (there it is) constructed for the girl who loves pants and her figure. Following this came a sequence a color that looked vaguely Guadalajaran. And then the story ended in navy and gold combination lace pieces, which were almost royal in their distribution. Abe is a complex designer with profound technical ability — but a good question to ask regarding both Abe and McCartney is this: was anything new?

Not really.

Does it matter?

Less likely.

At Sonia Rykiel‘s show by Julie de Libran held at the flagship on Boulevard Saint-Germain, show-goers were told that, “tonight, we invite our friends back to ours for a party after dark.” Immediately it was clear that there would be sequins, possibly some color and in what appeared on the tight runway festooned by a glitter floor, a loose reference to what the manic pixie girl of 1975 may have looked like. I loved the cropped bell jackets and short-shorts with chain belts. There were cool fur stoles and plunging v-necks, too. So many designers have said that they want men to fall in love with girls while their clothes but few have been able to pull the sense of fun that is contained to this house. A level of je ne sais quoi coupled with marant behavior but does that really say anything about the clothes?

I suppose the question remains, who decides what we want to wear?

Photographs via Vogue Runway and NowFashion.com

Feature collage by Elizabeth Tamkin

The post From Paris: Stella McCartney, Sacai and Sonia Rykiel appeared first on Man Repeller.

From Paris: Stella, Sacai and Sonia Rykiel

Who decides what we want to wear? Is it us, or is it them?

How could we have been so convicted about all the black we wore on our backs just six months ago, when for the season that lays ahead, there’s a deluge of color in every crevice of Paris and a new sense of energy to which we are all seemingly subscribing? Stella McCartney, who alluded to dedication-to-theme last June for her resort 2016 collection with Cuban references running rampant through her collection, made the transition clear in her show notes, citing  “an explosion of color, energy and movement” in her knit plaid polo dresses, which we ankle length and set off by both sneaker sandals and more of the indigenous swirly-embroidered dresses and two-pieces. There were also short dresses shown as tops over pants which seem to have become the equivalent of my using words like “deluge” and “seemingly” — comfortable vis-a-vis the creative process.

In Trocadero, another prolific female designer, Chitose Abe for Sacai showed a real story book, which started with animated city prints that were cut apart and separated by horizontal plackets of lace. Those became a series of bandana dresses, which I loved because they took a popular detail (bandanas) and turned them on its head. There were slit pants that revealed the totality of the female leg, seemingly (there it is) constructed for the girl who loves pants and her figure. Following came a sequence a color that looked vaguely Guadalajaran. And then the story ended in navy and gold combination lace pieces, which were almost royal in their distribution. Abe is a complex designer with profound technical ability — but a good question to ask regarding both Ade and McCartney is this: was anything new?

Not really.

Does it matter?

Less likely.

At Sonia Rykiel‘s show by Julie de Libran, held at the flagship on Boulevard St. Germain, show-goers were told that, “tonight, we invite our friends back to ours for a party after dark.” Immediately it was clear that there would be sequins, possibly some color and in what appeared on the tight runway festooned by a glitter floor, a loose reference to what the manic pixie girl of 1975 may have looked like. I loved the cropped bell jackets and short-shorts with chain belts. There were cool fur stoles and plunging v-necks, too. So many designers have said that they want men to fall in love with girls while their clothes but few have been able to pull the sense of fun that is contained to this house. A level of je ne sais quoi coupled with marant behavior but does that really say anything about the clothes?

I suppose the question remains, who decides what we want to wear?

Photographs via Vogue Runway and NowFashion.com

Feature collage by Elizabeth Tamkin

The post From Paris: Stella, Sacai and Sonia Rykiel appeared first on Man Repeller.

When Did Nice Become Cool?

I’ve always been pretty comfortable with the notion that I am, at my core, a nerd. No reserved seating at the “cool” kids’ table, no qualms about having Lord of the Rings references in my AIM profile and zero ability to be anything but painfully, hopelessly, nice.

This made the realization that I not only liked fashion but harbored an enduring passion for an industry generally perceived as “mean” a cause for concern. When I decided to move to New York City from the Midwest to pursue it further, I braced myself for an inevitable degree of backlash; worse than the thought of the cruelty my friendliness might incite was whether or not this industry could make me mean.

Surprisingly, what I soon discovered was that the overwhelming public attitude of those inside the fashion industry seemed to have shifted from Devil Wears Prada-esque to something a lot less, well, awful.

From beaming street style stars to relatable editors, goofy models and down-to-earth bloggers, there’s this new influx of engaging individuals not only alluring in their aspirational statuses, but in their approachable ones. Fashion celebrities — in fact, most celebrities — once relegated to cold and isolated roles at the upper echelons of society have become less stoic, funnier and more chummy with their fans than ever before. More Andy, less Miranda Priestly.

Nice is now…cool. And we may have ourselves to thank.

You see, today, fans are fame. Having followers equates to having influence, which equates to stardom, which equates to dating a Jonas brother. Where popularity used to be assigned, today it is — for lack of a better word — earned. Fame is no longer in the hands of one big-name agent, record producer, modeling scout or editor-in-chief but instead of any individual who’s able to successfully leverage their most alluring attributes to create a compelling, often enviable, personal brand. You know the saying “don’t bite the hand that feeds you?” You have to be well-liked so that people keep giving you likes.

Congeniality may also have to do something with the fact that these celebrities are often fans themselves.

Consider the power of Instagram, where a “nobody” can become a “somebody” through the alluring combo of compelling content and rapid technology in the span of a few hours. The rise — quick and transparent — helps keep these new stars more grounded than in the past. They can see where they came from if they scroll back far enough.

Social media has also made celebrities — new and established — more susceptible to the effects of immediate, direct feedback than ever before. When an influencer puts something out there, the audience interacts. Immediately. Some celebrities even comment back. This proximity to normalcy makes for more humble, down to earth and relatable public figures less keen on excluding those who they essentially were only moments ago.

This reliance on and ability to relate to fans has created a new subset of celebrities less liked for being cool than they are cool for being liked. The intimidating Kate Mosses and Victoria Beckhams of yesteryear have morphed into the ever-exuberant Karlie Klosses and Coco Rochas of today.

But it does make you wonder: is this the beginning of a cultural shift in the direction toward a nicer society, one where friendliness reins supreme? Or is it just a trend? The latter is a cynical thought, yes, but I guess that’s what moving to New York will do to you. The city so nice, they named it twice.

Photograph via The Face, 1999

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10 Weird Things About Twilight

(If you like having movies ruined for you, read why The Notebook is weird, too.)

Twilight the book is turning 10 tomorrow — ten being the kind of literary or cinematic benchmark that the Internet lives for, like a content quinceañera or bar mitzvah. Twilight, you are almost officially a man.

But let us also not forget that this is one of the strangest stories to ever come out of someone’s brain — and remember that I am speaking as someone who works with Leandra. Of further important note: many of us only saw the movie. So in the spirit of full celebration but with a steady hoof in reality, kindly allow me to point to the stranger points of Twilight, the film.

1. We know that 50 Shades of Grey was born out of Twilight fan fiction. What they never told us, however, was that Twilight was fan fiction born out of Bambi as a way to avenge Bambi’s mom’s death. Re-watch Kristen Stewart’s opening emo-kid morbid monologue and note what happens at the 1:06 mark.

Then re-watch this clip of Bambi and crumple as the awful realization hits at 1:06, too. Coincidence? No. Depressing, yes, and I apologize. But you had to know!

2. Proof that Bella is a total weirdo begins at the start of the movie (post deer death) during her transition from her mom’s to her dad’s. She has a cactus obsession, carrying around a tiny potted succulent like some Brooklyn coffee house barista setting up shop before the store opens.

3. Her dad is the love child of Tom Selleck and Bill Hader.

4. Plagiarism: Upon joining school mid-semester not unlike one Cady Heron, Bella is greeted by the girl from Pitch Perfect who basically asks, “Why are you white?”

5. Self-serving cross promotion: You know the scene where Edward Cullen suppresses barfs upon Bella’s entry into the room? In that same scene we see Hedwig, Harry Potter’s desceased (and taxidermied) owl is behind him, a subtle but no less manipulative cry for us to remember him as Cedric Diggory. Like we get it, you were always hot.

6. Bella wears oven mitts instead of gloves.

7. Sometimes Edward Cullen is Chuck Bass. “If you were smart, you’d stay away from me,” both dramatically wealthy and oddly-dressed men with questionable hair moments whisper to their respective moody, headband-wearing brunette love interests.

8. Watching Bella figure out that Edward is a vampire on her own was like watching Catfish’s Nev and Max explain how Google-image search works to third season Catfishees, aka: HOW DID NO ONE FIGURE THIS OUT SOONER.

9. Human backpacks and humblebrags: I think my favorite scene is where Edward and Bella recreate The NeverEnding Story with Edward as the luckdragon so that he can take her to Fork’s only patch of sunlight in order to show off the effects of his Jessica Simpson for Sephora glitter lotion.

It’s still weird, though.

10. Of course, the absolute weirdest thing about Twilight (if we’re limiting it to 10 for the sake of brevity) has nothing to do with the fact that Edward is into blood nor is it the way Bella’s mom says, “You fell out a window!” after Bella almost died, as though they were drunk frat brothers and this whole thing was mildly hilarious. No. It is that Edward’s brother Emmett plays vampire baseball in a purple velour tracksuit with a sideways hat — the perfect backup dancer’s attire to accompany Bret Michaels, Lenny Kravitz and Shakira: the musical.

A excellent 10-year-old foreshadowing to Spring 16 because, like Leandra and I keep telling you guys, the early 2000s are back.

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Two Ways to Do the Paper Bag Pant

The paper bag pant: we cited them as a trend on the runway for Spring 2016. Remember Tome? 3.1 Phillip Lim? Public School? Creatures of the Wind? Or most recently Dries!?! Now I’m just name dropping, but there’s a reason so many designers want you to wear pants that appear at least a size too big…

Because these are the Netflix and Chill of pants. They give you the best excuse since “We’re Closed” to not visit your tailor, they provide ample opportunity to show off new belts or old scarves, and, if you’re not squeamish about smelling like PB&J, they can stay true to their name and store your lunch.

To carry on this strange metaphor — just as lunch varies, so too can the way you paper bag your pants.

Example number one: the below denim diaper meets Joseph’s technicolored dream coat.

American Apparel bodysuit, vintage Cross Colours patchwork jeans, Paula Cademartori shoes, vintage belt

Unbelted, they’re baggy jeans that sit just above my waist and are at least one size too large. Left alone, they’re great! But by hiking them up and adding a belt (I like one with enough length for looping), I changed their silhouette and gave myself a new shape. That’s two jeans, two bodies for the price of one.

Next: the bandana way.

Reformation top, No.6 clogs, vintage bandana as belt, N-DUO pants

These trousers already had a (super) high waist. Rather than put a belt through their intended holes, however, I added a long scarf at my own natural waist, unbuttoned the top as one does post-Thanksgiving and kept the scarf’s bow knotted in the back for flirty lil’ surprise.

Kill ’em as you walk away, as they say.

Now show me what you’re wearing/having for lunch.

Photographed by Krista Anna Lewis

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The Thought Process of Watching a Céline Show on Instagram

Playing Céline catch up?  Start here.  

Okay, here’s a nice quiet corner to stand and scroll. I think Céline just ended; let me see what the Internet has to say about THAT.

Scroll

Scroll

Scroll

What is going on in that room? Is that a multi-colored cube? Is that drapery over an architectural structure? Is that the inside of a parachute? Are we at Gymboree?

Scroll

Ooooh, there was lingerie. Look at those lingerie dresses! That’s two for Paris on the lingerie front next to Alexander Wang’s Balenciaga. What’s up with those red shoes? Are those boots or socks?

Looks like boots.

Scroll

Lingerie tops! With big white pants, I guess. Am I missing something? Why are all the comment emojis under these photos praise hands? This looks like every other Céline collection in the history of Phoebe Philo’s white sneakers.

Am I allowed to think that?

Wait a second.

Are we on vacation?

Scroll

Oh wait, what are those cocoon shoulders? On that white poplin dress? Is that poplin? There’s another one! Those buttons! The best part of being such a smart designer, I guess, is that you don’t have to attempt to tell a story. It tells itself.

Are we packing for vacation?

Let me search the hashtag. Everyone is posting the same look. Is that patent leather?

No.

Weird idea. Why does the hashtag take me to like, 47832 variations of different fake Dior and Chloé bags? Oooooh, look at those hoops.

Show me something different, Anna dello Russo!

Ah, there it is — the Vogue close up. It looks like some version of a plaid suit with what they’re calling “the new It bag.” How many times are we going to meet a new It bag before the powers that be call a spade a spade and acknowledge that no one wants an It bag. We want What? bags!

THERE IT IS. Those scoop-boat necks! That feels new. All hail the ballerina, right? Who doesn’t look good in a scoop-boat neck? The clavicle area of a woman’s body is universally flattering. And those ballet dresses? That looks easy. I want easy. I wonder if Phoebe Philo would ever make clothes for the ballet.

I don’t think I get it.

My vacation theory is flawed — how could one possibly pack that suit anyway?

Scroll

Omg. What in the good name of covering my person is that green jumpsuit? Do you see that green jumpsuit? Who’s Instagram photo is this?

Wait, where is that croissant from? Rose Bakery is open on Sundays?

All these pictures from the Emanuel Ungaro show keep coming in the way. It’s funny, you know, because I keep thinking they’re Céline, and tilting my head, and going, “Oh!” then reading the captions and thinking, “…oh.” Good designers get a special lens, don’t they? Like a carte blanche based solely on the virtue that because you expect the best from them, you kind of give into your own expectation. No? No?

Are those black lacquer hoops?

How am I supposed to determine whether or not that is actually a soft and feminine touch, Nina Garcia? I can’t see anything!

Is their shop open on Sundays?

Oh, Kendall Jenner wore such a cool dress to the Vogue party last night. Hmm.

Feature collage by Elizabeth Tamkin

The post The Thought Process of Watching a Céline Show on Instagram appeared first on Man Repeller.

Paris Digest: Balenciaga, Acne and Nina Ricci

When the lights came on Friday night inside the venue that housed Alexander Wang’s final show for Balenciaga and the Notorious B.I.G. started to sing, “I’m going, going, back, back to Cali, Cali,” you weren’t sure if what you’d see was a tribute collection or a proverbial ball dropping; Alexander Wang publicly pronouncing, “I’m out.”

What you got was a possibly a combination of both. 35 white looks later, the clothes (which, technically speaking, were fiercely articulate) seemed to say to the succeeding creative director, I’m stripping this down to its bare bones — start from the beginning and Godspeed. All the models wore lace slippers. There were white satin fanny packs that looked like portable, hands free dossiers. The looks, all rendered in white and constructed skillfully to look like lingerie proved one of his most ironically elaborate and successful collections for the house since Wang’s arrival three years ago. Following the final baggy pants plus exposed boxer briefs and lace bralette blouse, the departing creative director ran out from backstage, iPhone in hand, dancing and clapping to the beat of his Cali-bred drum. You weren’t sure if he was telling you he’s thrilled to be leaving, or thrilled with the collection, or maybe both.

Where beginnings are still anew, Guillame Henry showed his first Spring collection for the house of Nina Ricci last night at the Grand Palais. Similarly to the season that came before, there were plenty of masculine garments: boxy jackets, baggy pants and overly long sleeves. The more feminine pieces erred on the side of avant-garde, rendered in this lightweight fabric that looks like patent leather and often with feather detailing. Given the storied house’s inherent effeminate nature, this is a no doubt a new look for it. Though reviews for the new direction are largely critical, I do wonder if a dance in the opposite direction is exactly the sort of revival Nina Ricci needed.

And somewhere between the aforementioned and Balenciaga was Acne Studios. While the “rock and roll” girls of Jonny Johansson’s conception of Spring for Acne walked, I thought about the show notes. “It’s not about fashion, it’s about attitude,” they read. There were rocket dog-style flatform flip flops, 3-D sunglasses, velvet skirts and blazers that will be the most easily translatable garments of the season, long blazers with counter-fabric, brightly colored pockets, more underwear shown as pants and sock sneakers and boots. As in, no real shoes — just socks and soles. There were also sweaters and tops with quite literal paraphernalia on them in the rendering of guitars. The strongest shoes were pointed toe slippers that were striped and looked Morroccan. In those instances, the Acne woman was a Mo-rock-an roller.

To be clear, attitude does seem to be at the crux of what makes Acne successful, but I wonder if this attitude — angry, exclusive, disinterested in the theory that being nice is what has become cool — is wearing thin.

Photographs via Vogue Runway

Feature collage by Elizabeth Tamkin

The post Paris Digest: Balenciaga, Acne and Nina Ricci appeared first on Man Repeller.

Tinder is Trash

Romance is dead.

I don’t even know why I bother checking Tinder. I know the guys on there are just looking for hookups. They don’t want to get to know me, they don’t want to listen to what I have to say. They probably don’t even care to know my name. Every boy I come across either has a foot fetish, is obsessed with his abs, or has a picture of his weird pet lizard — not to judge. I just think that at the very least, they could show off something real they have to offer.

And what’s with calling me baby? Or babe?

…How many girls do you think these guys are referring to as baby, or babe?

A woman needs intellect, respect and value. What happened to the days of mutual attraction? Sending flowers? Or at the very least asking, “How are you doing?” What happened to the days where you didn’t have to worry about texts?

We need a romance revolution. No more games, no more guessing and no more wondering. We should all say how we feel, and not be afraid to say, “I love you.” Let’s commit to relationships! And treat each other equally. Having a penis or a vagina doesn’t change the fact we’re all still human.

Dating apps have become a game, yes, but if you’re not ready for romance, don’t play with people’s feelings. You have no right to pluck someone’s heartstrings if you’re not there to create music. Don’t contribute to the world of assholes, dude. We have plenty.

Wow. Checking Tinder just opened up a whole bottle of emotions there, huh? I was just walking along, going about my day, living life, to suddenly performing a sidewalk soliloquy about the state of modern dating. Maybe I should talk to someone about this — just to see how they feel about it. To know that I am not alone. The guy behind me seems nice…maybe he could be part of my romance revolution. Someone has to reawaken the art of love; maybe we can. Okay, before I approach him, let me put this phone away. Tinder is trash, and if I don’t pay attention to where I’m walking, I’ll crash.

Follow the author, Brisa Gomez on Twitter.

Photograph by The Styleograph via Who What Wear

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Paris Dispatch: Christian Dior Echoes Human Behavior, Isabel Marant is Cool

A lot of the gravity of Paris Fashion Week has moved to the first half of the 9-day-long finale in Paris. It used to feel satisfying to arrive on Friday morning just in time for the Christian Dior show and power through the subsequent six days. But with such important new names as Jacquemus and Off White and Vetements, the recent shift in calendar from Chloé, who now shows on Thursday instead of Sunday, The Row’s decision to show in Paris as opposed to New York this season and Dries Van Noten’s unflinching propensity to call Wednesday, “his” — arriving just before Dior, like I did yesterday, won’t quite cut it for much longer.

For what it’s worth, though, starting on a note so high can change the way you approach an entire season. Raf Simons opened his Spring show for Dior yesterday, held at the Carrousel du Louvre, with a flimsy white cotton two-piece. There was a crop top and shorts, both scalloped, both plain. “There might be a simplicity in how the collection looks,” Simons said for the show notes, “but it is extremely complex in terms of the technique.”

This sentiment strung through the viable crop sweaters — some shredded, some scalloped — paired over a deluge of additional white linens — some mini, some mullet — that will no doubt sell out before the next Mediterranean vacation season. There were pointed-toe sling-backs and light weight Bar jackets, smart sweaters with slits down the front to reveal an open chest. Many of the models wore lurex turtleneck collars with chokers paired over them consisting of either the number 8 (for good luck) or the year 1947. A series of sheer striped sheaths were coupled with the same cotton under things, and there were a set of slip dresses toward the end of the show that had embroidery snaking across them in the shape of an interlocking “s.”

Easy to wear, no question, and beautiful in its lack of complication to look at. It was a strong collection — one that echoed a sentiment that is largely true about culture and human behavior today. We try to evince a sense of utter simplicity in how we operate that is disseminated through social media — women can do it all! Have the babies, run the companies, cook the dinner. Beyoncé woke up like this, so you should too. And here is my body containing 0% body fat. No big deal — what’s the problem? But what we see is really just what they let us see, right? What we let them see. Behind the frozen moments set in selfies and filters, proper execution is extremely complex in terms of its technique.

Isabel Marant has constructed a very particular looking woman. She has broad shoulders and lithe, long enough legs to feel confident wearing only harem pants. (Who needs to prove themselves with a short skirt, or dress, anyway?) Her shoes are always cool and while you don’t feel like you could pull off any of her clothes (lamé harem pants and a sheer ribbed turtleneck? What?), you still want them because she has them.

So that’s how you commodify cool.

On display yesterday were the usual suspects: boho tops, drawstring harem pants, lace up sandals and flimsy tanks. Also on tap were sequined leggings shown under jumpsuits and hot pants that will resonate with like, a quarter of a percent of the population but when they do, they will look so damn cool.

This was an interesting show to observe immediately following the case study in human behavior at Christian Dior, specifically given the sequins akin to the turtlenecks of the anterior’s Pre Fall collection, which were on display in the photo album of previous-season-looks worn on show attendants. I’m not sure how I feel about Isabel Marant anymore, but I know if we’re talking about simplicity vs. complexity, she’s got the former half down better than most.

Photographs via Vogue Runway

Feature collage by Elizabeth Tamkin

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