Leandra Medine's Blog, page 708

Proenza Schouler In One Sentence

If you were hoping that next spring would look more like the following fall, you will be thrilled to learn that on tap for the distantly imminent season are leather paneled jackets in the same cocoon shapes that have become emblematic of the Proenza Schouler brand — this time around, they’re shown in varied patches and with complimenting, contrast-colored leather jogging pants fit for Bill Murray but made largely for, well, us; fret not at all if python boots (and knee length coats) aren’t your bag because what will definitely become your, you know, bag, are the literal ones, which look a bit like porcupines but smell of the stuff “It” is made of — and don’t forget the sandals! The mules! The closing fringe that should show nothing but instead reveals everything and when held up against the technical net of a series of transparent skirts and dresses, makes you think: yeah.

Images via Style.com

The Latest from Rodarte, Michael Kors and Narciso Rodriguez

Have you ever watched a cocoon open up? It’s pretty incredible to see the latex-looking bean-shaped object of a branch begin to tear apart and reveal brightly colored wings, each almost double the size of the initial cocoon.

And once those wings begin to flap, then eventually to fly, you might find yourself thinking: ah, nature. Yesterday at Rodarte, when high waist white jeans and nautically colored chiffon, ruffle-adorned blouses and knits seamlessly became an iridescent take on military dressing and then eventually an equally ruffled but perhaps more delicate nod to sea greens and algae in the form of dresses that hearkened back to older days at Rodarte, I thought about the evolution of a butterfly. And then I thought to myself, ah, fashion.

That Kate and Laura Mulleavy could bind such disparate but brazen references and make them appear as though no other combination could make as much sense (nautical ruffles and stripes in a combination of blue and white parlayed into parallel stripes and ruffles among new colors and fabrics, and skimpy, embellished net over the pockets on utility jackets laid the groundwork for a collection of dainty oceanic masterpieces) is a consistent coup for the sister duo behind Rodarte. That they could break the uniform mold of a fashion show and have their models appear in respectively altered makeup, some with sunglasses on, others with rows of piercings through their eyebrows, is a novel way to expound upon the notion that art imitates reality.

But not everyone cares to break molds — and if you’re Michael Kors, that’s perfectly fine. This morning, the designer previewed his SS15 collection boasting a series of full white tea length skirts and sweaters, refined flat Italian-style sandals, embellished floral prints (sometimes appearing on transparent tulle dresses and skirts) and some of the signature Kors staples — brown and cognac leather belts and bags, navy suede jackets and skirts, crisp button down blouses (shrewdly left to cover the models’ hands at finger-length) and sensible, though decidedly on trend footwear. While we were technically in TriBeCa and it was 2014, the show was such (with its soundtrack blaring the melodic “Be My Baby”) that guests had no choice but to time travel back to the 1963. The location?

Hmm. In a garden? At sea? In a garden at sea?

Among American terrain, of course.

Narciso Rodriguez has a different idea about the way his guests should feel. And if last season, the chant went something like, “the bigger, the boxier, the better,” in the direction of luxurious comfort, this season, with its dramatic and largely scant jumpsuits, short embroidered sheaths and the uneven hems, luxury comfort was still on the mind but not as saliently. The primary difference was in the mood. This collection appeared to reach toward an older, more glamorous world. One where women dress not for their painstaking day-int0-nights or opposite-end-of-spectrum black tie obligations but for the in-betweens — the niche occasions that call for clothing we’ve largely abandoned. Whether or not this world still exists is arguable but at least it’s compelling to look at.

Images via Style.com

How Many Excuses Can You Make to Buy Delpozo?

If ever there was a reason to adhere to your grandma’s relentless request to get married, look no further than Delpozo’s closing tulle gowns covered in the brand’s signature paillettes and metallic sequins; if ever there was a reason to consider flat forms, the plastic floral cutouts on Delpozo’s chunky iteration will sell you faster than a Furby, circa 1999 sold itself. If you’ve ever wanted to time-travel back to the widely accepted 70′s conception of the future, then the micro hemmed, triangle sheath dresses and hyper-architectural swirls will be your fashion DeLorean. And if you just wanted to look at a beautiful show, well, look no further than Delpozo.

Ok. Your turn to make up an excuse to buy something from Delpozo’s SS15 collection because none of us exactly need a reason to simply look at it.

Images via Now Fashion

Anna Wintour Answers 73 Questions for Vogue Videos

 



War and Peace! I did not see that coming but I probably should have.

You know what else threw me for a particularly unusual loop? How much Anna Wintour and my husband, Abie, have in common. Case in point: their respective propensities for tennis, a strict alcohol-consumption (or lack thereof) policy, allegiance to Starbucks, a quotidian 5AM start time, unflinching respect for the evolution of Brooklyn, neither can sing — or carry a bag — both enjoy coffee ice cream but hate horoscopes and incidentally, they both have a divine affection for an English sense of humour.

Separately, two things struck me as especially telling about Ms. Wintour: the concept of memories as superlative family heirlooms and home as the ideal vacation destination. Fundamentally, it seems, we, as humans, appreciate the same things and it is very rarely that those thing come wrapped in anything but love, familiarity and comfort.

[73 Questions for Anna Wintour via Vogue]

When You’re Stuck in Traffic During Fashion Week…

“Are we there yet” is one of life’s most important and torturous questions. The need for an answer is desperately immediate — if you’re the one asking it means you’re either insanely late or five years old, and in both scenarios, that you have to pee – but this question might as well be rhetorical because if have to ask, you already know the answer:

“No.”

Very rarely does that awful rejection come with solutions. During Fashion Week in particular it stings even more, because while there are ETAs and alternate routes, when you’re stuck in traffic and late to a show, time might as well be a napping sloth on that arduous road to Lincoln Center. We even had a sweet ride courtesy of Cadillac (think 20 inch rims and a sound system that could turn a billboard into confetti with one fell bass drop) but traffic’s traffic. And boredom’s boring.

So what do you do?

We sit so frequently on the West Side Highway in the days that count as New York’s week-o-fashion (plus countless hours in cabs on the way to doctors’ appointments, dinners, breakfasts and ear candling) that we’ve more or less come up with a playbook of activities to keep us busy in the backseat once the snacks run out:

When you’re bored in a car, why don’t you…

- Meditate

- Perform an outfit change

- Find unique ways to exit the car without actually opening the door — best performed when the car is at a stand still

- Talk to your car. Ask how its day was.

- Try out avant-garde hair braids on whoever is driving the car

- Play Fashion Week Bingo (Anna Wintour is 20 points, a broken heel is 15, accidental outfit twins are 5, models running to their next show are 2, etc. You can DIY the rules.)

- Do yoga outside of the car during grid-lock. Ours has wifi in it so we’ve been streaming various “how to touch your toes in just 3 weeks!”  videos like it’s our job. (During FW it kind of is though.)

- Try to run faster than the car when it’s actually moving

- Create an impromptu block party while stuck on 15th street headed toward Milk Studios. We’ve got Bose speakers in our car so we’ll handle the music portion of this event, if you don’t mind bringing the portable grill and a variety of chips.

- Throw half-popped corn kernels into other open car windows in the surrounding jam

- Get people to try and catch the kernels (grapes work too) with their mouths!

- Have everyone in your car jump out at a red light and switch seats like you’re in high school and just got your license

- Have a treasure hunt with the weird stuff under the car seats. Later, set up a museum in the back seat and tell everyone you’re waving admission because you’re feeling generous.

- Get in the car next to you and yell, “SURPRISE!”

- Practice your deejay skills

- Learn all of the words to a song you’ve always wanted to know and then, once memorized, inform the car next to you that they just won three free tickets to an impromptu concert by none other than YOU

- Read the driver the horoscopes of everyone in his or her immediate and extended family

- Jump out of the car with an imaginary sword and pretend your car is the belly of a dragon you just escaped, then threaten to battle it the name of your honor

- Last but not least: write a blog post. Kind of like we just did.

Part of a collaboration with Cadillac

Photos by Krista Anna Lewis

“This is What I Look Like When…”

NYTimes fashion critic Vanessa Friedman posted this UH-MAY-ZING-LY awkward Vine of the Olsen sisters before The Row show on Monday morning and it deserves way more Internet attention. I would believe you if you told me this was a prank, but in reality I think not one of them actually knows how to use Vine.

Although the Olsens fail to say anything, this video is begging to be captioned so hit us with your best sentence.

Here’s one to get you started: What the Olsens would look like if you told them Starbucks was going out of business.

Your turn. (Although, feel free to talk about this below TBT hair-twin discovery that Charlotte made as well.)

A Day in The Life During NYFW

7:26AM: I wake up, I realize I have three hours until I have to be at The Row so I get out of bed, I chug the remaining water that is in a Fiji bottle next to said bed and I head toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. After they’ve been brushed, I examine the bags started to permeate my under-eyes again. My tan must be fading. This morning will start with a vignette written by Amelia called Day in The Life so I’m off da hook until my 1PM show review citing the collections of Public School, Derek Lam, Thakoon and Anthony Vaccarello is slated to go live. In the three hours I have between now and Elevated Basics USA, I think I should go for a run. You know what? I will go for a run.

8:32AM: So, I’m wearing a black tank top and black cycling shorts. My sneakers are neon, though not Chanel, and I’m not out for a run. On the contrary, I’m sitting at my computer, giving a last glance to Amelia’s 9AM story and, fine, full disclosure, I am also googling myself. Sue me! I know you’re going to ask for a What I Wores after Fashion Week so I’m beefing that story up! Kind of! I think I’ll go get a coffee!

9:15AM: I haven’t gotten a coffee yet, I’m still at my computer. I paid my last credit card bill and changed my shipping address on Amazon.com. I wonder why my mom says I’m irresponsible. Look how responsible I am.

9:58AM: I have all the time in the world, I ought to go get a coffee now!

10:15AM: HERE I AM, DARTING DA FUQ HOME BECAUSE THE ROW STARTS IN 15 MINUTES AND I’M WEARING CYCLING SHORTS. My coffee tastes great, but I have to change. Good thing I know exactly what I’m going to wear today.

10:32AM: I get to The Row, which is being shown on Mercer Street not far from where I live. I’m wearing a pair of red and white board shorts from Rosie Assoulin‘s Resort 15 collection with a red knit polo by Rachel Comey and unusually comfortable given their heel height and pointed toe Christian Louboutin nude lace-up pumps. This show is mindblowingly beautiful. How do they always do this? Do you think they realized, when they were wearing gingham baby doll dresses and being a single Tanner daughter, that one day they’d essentially change the face of luxury fashion? I don’t blame their customer one bit for spending $995 on a white shirt.

11:48AM: My stomach directs me toward The Butcher’s Daughter where I resolve to eat Muesli with almond milk but not before first snapping a photo of the restaurant’s host who looks so much cooler than anyone else I’ve seen all of fashion week.

12:20PM: Guess what? I just came home to get a silk scarf to wrap around my wrist. Hehe. Now I’m going to go to Rosie’s presentation dressed like a mascot.

1:01PM: Looks like everyone got the mascot memo! There are balloon and figue tops aplenty up in this club and in case you’re wondering: yes, Rosie has absolutely gone done it again. While there are fewer gowns than there have been, there are significantly more versions of poplin marvels that make getting dressed for work, or to run errands seem so much more spectacular. Rosie often says that she just wants to make clothes that people will want to wear and I feel like that concept gets lost on many designers when in reality, that’s the bottom line — isn’t it? There are cobalt blue faille pants with a large back flap that can either be reckoned a tail or wrapped around to create the illusion of a skirt. There is also a straw tank top. And skirt. It’s…really something.

2:20PM: I’ve just arrived at Karen Walker where I am seated next to the inimitable Yasmin Sewell and we are discussing the imminent launch of our COLLABORATION FOR ÊTRE CECILE IN THE FORM OF THREE SUPER EXTREMELY INSANELY AWESOME T-SHIRTS. I’ll show you a sneak peek if you promise to mail me a sliver of your skin. Fine, jk, you don’t have to do that, here is a sneak peek.

3:02PM: I just arrive at 3.1 Phillip Lim on West Street still thinking about the cool male-inclined loafers that populated the feet of Walker’s models and the highly 70s-inspired silhouettes and suede patches. There is so much suede this spring. I’m seated between Elin Kling and Garance Dore. We talk about Elin’s new label Totême and Garance’s cool notecards. I feel largely left out because I haven’t technically launched product yet. EMPHASIS ON THE YET!

3:40PM: That was cool. Elevated sportswear, etc. I’m hungry again, what now?

4:01PM: Organic Avenue right under my office, ka-ching! How about a lentil soup and oh, what’s a quinoa parfait? Yeah, okay, I’ll try that, for sure. I’ve got a decent-sized break now before the Mulberry event in Soho where Cara Delevingne will indubitably be taking selfies and acting a most endearing fool. I think I should work.

I’ll work.

6:08PM: I’m gonna put my not-as-comfortable-as-they-were-before nude Louboutins back on and haul ass over to Spring street.

6:16PM: That walk felt like forever and just as suspected, Cara Delevingne is here taking selfies amid a flock of unflinching fans. She’s great. Teen Vogue’s editor-in-chief Amy Astley and I conclude that she’s built the celebrity clout she has based in large part to her simultaneous goofiness and coolness. You can’t really beat that, can you? I’m gonna go home.

6:26PM: Hugging Abie is so much fun. I want to do this for at least sixteen more seconds.

6:26:58PM: Okay, I’m satisfied. Now I’m going to change into a Tod’s jacket and Tod’s loafers because they are having a store opening party tonight followed by a dinner uptown at Bilboquet and I am going because a) I love loafers, b) I love Alessandra Facchinetti (creative director) and c) I love free food. First, though, there is Rag & Bone. Should I play that fun blind fold game right now to figure out what to put between the jacket and loafers?

I’m just going to go for my favorite pair of vintage Levi’s jeans and that striped sari I once wore last summer — remember it?

Sometimes I don’t get me either. But I like it! I do like it!

7:52PM: Rag and Bone, here we come! Here I come! Here they come!

8:21PM: The gentlewoman I am seated next to smells of tequila. I adore her.

There are so many swinging straps! Rag and Bone doesn’t have to put a dollar in the “Elevated Sportswear” Jar because it kind of invented it, you know? I on the other hand owe one to the Douche Bag Jar because I almost described not one or two or three but four things as “everything.” On the fifth try, I used the adjective divine. So, that’s two dollars, then.

9:02PM: I arrive at Bilboquet for the Tod’s dinner and make my way over to the bar to start getting hammered. I’m kidding, I’m drinking sparkling water and talking to my friend Kyle. We’re discussing the difference between bombing a people and bombing an ideology when we hear a very loud boom. We both look to the window, Kyle appearing particularly startled to find nothing out of the ordinary. “Sorry,” he says. “I am very afraid of terror attacks.” I ask him what table he’s seated at and whether I can sit on his lap. We proceed to his table.

Mr. Thom Browne’s Wild Ride

The space where Thom Browne showed his Spring 2015 collection employed a giant old freight elevator to take you up to the top floor. The body count on the lift was strict and limited – the smart ones took the stairs, I decided to wait.

Once ushered into the elevator we, the exact number human bodies, stood close and quiet even though no one had hushed us; sometimes anticipation will do that all on its own. And when the door slid open to a wonderland of cut green grass with a model maybe 20 feet in the air balancing the sail of a boat on her head, we all inhaled and collectively took god’s name in vain.

Nearby two women lounged propped up on their elbows, legs stretched out as though they were getting a tan — maybe they were, clearly we’d entered some sort of magic. To my immediate front sat a girl on a pedestal with a butterfly for a face and an even larger, elephant-eared wingspan behind her. Spectators walked around the turf, careful to not step on the red and white flowers (arranged in Mr. Browne’s signature stripe) while taking pictures with breathing statues. No one was too jaded; the scene begged to be documented.

But it wasn’t social media bait. Theatrical grandeur is simply at the core of Thom Browne.

The show began with a young man in a small suit pushing a lawnmower across the grass. Then over the speakers came a woman’s voice narrating a story about six sisters who lived together and dressed alike, which was brought to life by 30 models, and together we fell through the looking glass.

It was impossible to pay attention to the rest of the story because the clothes were distracting and magnificent. That’s the point, though, right? To let the clothes say it all.

Each look was presented as a costume if you consider the fact that very few people will actually attempt the hats (look closely — the first six were miniature suit jackets with shirting and ties that from far away appeared like multicolored jockey helmets; the final ones looked like conical Dunce caps with the points cut off; after the sculptural shirting tied around heads came wire-framed purses as fascinators, and after these came bonnets shaped like dresses with tutus for skirts that put Kentucky Derby brims to an absolute shame).

Underneath the hats were clothes so beautifully conceptualized and tailored, it didn’t matter that the teetering contraptions up top rendered the overall looks editorial as opposed to commercial. This was only at first glance though. Upon a closer look — and I mean my eyes were darting every which way — the clothes were simultaneously whimsical, wearable and (using the word generously here), practical.

Practical for couture, at least.

Who couldn’t use a tweed waistcoat with a jacket that matched its fabric but differed in color? Everyone needs a pair or two of really excellent flat front trousers, cropped at the ankle and tabbed at the waist, and at Thom Browne I counted at least six. There were boxed jackets and cardigan sets (one with plumes sticking out all over, less practical here I suppose, but beautiful to look at) and modest length dresses and boxy pencil skirts. Underneath a PVC coat lined in black lived a silk pleated skirt that you would wear, I would wear, and a sharp-suited woman on Madison Avenue would wear, or at least she’d approve of us wearing. Though perhaps the outfit that appeared squash club luncheon-appropriate was more in her immediately wheelhouse, all cable knit in cream with navy and red piping.

Don’t get me wrong, though. It was nuts. It was full on Thom-Browne-brain insanity, and it was — in just one more word, I promise — beautiful.

Images via Style.com

The One Sentence Review: Tory Burch, J. Crew, MM6

Well tie me down and hit me with a bag of bird seeds — Tory Burch has put together a compendium of outfits you must wear the next you’re hash-tagging ACK on Instagram what with its white cable knit sweaters and toile prints but be aware this collection comes with a kick in the form of tribal tribute, cue a selection of needlepoint geometric prints, metallic embellished totems on a linen coat and skirt and the swagger of a cool girl who’s clearly misplaced at The Gazebo.

If I hadn’t known better — as in, if I were at an airport next to one of J. Crew‘s models, I’d have assumed she was coming off a plane from Ibiza with the emotional and sartorial baggage of her days as a prep school tomboy still running really deep through her veins; there were so many sequins placed so strategically on board shorts and work shirts, in addition to the masterful layering of striped cotton shirts and more rigid denim, green or white lightweight jackets, which makes it more and more apparent each season that Jenna Lyons is a genius.

If it were possible to merge the structured denim wild wild west with sleek Japanese silks and flatforms  and still maintain an underlying effortlessly cool Parisian swagger, MM6 just made it happen. These modern cowgirls sported a variety of patchwork denim, fringy suede, bandanas as tops and neckerchiefs,  satin kimono jackets, and cropped pants, all to a pulsating beat peppered with recognizable video game sound bites.

- Leandra Medine and Charlotte Fassler

Oh! And by the way! Though we weren’t there, we took a look at Libertine this morning and let me just say: those patches, those rave beads, that embroidery, the fringe, the sequins and the fearless approach to color…that is what the fun of fashion is all about.

Images via Style.com, The Cut, & Now Fashion

What Would Your Fashion Blogger Name Be?

When Leandra first started blogging she had a dumb ass website called “Boogers & Bagels.” I’m sure you’ve heard that a million times but it scarred me personally because she used to quiz me on it. I’d be like, “Leandra, I’m busy studying for my finals that I need to pass in order to graduate,” and she’d be like — in the MOST annoying voice with a spitting, wet lisp: “My name’s Amelia and I have to thhhudd-yyyy.”

I actually had a WordPress too at some point, though it’s now lost somewhere deep within the Internet’s waste basket (thank God). I won’t tell you more than this: an ampersand — the hashtag of 2009 — was involved in the name. That “&” sign was totally a thing back in the day. You’ve gotta admire its ability to combine any two words and give them a “nice ring.”

There are still plenty of blogs around with that pretty, loopy punctuation, but kids these days seem to be all about the one-word-wonders when it comes to titles, and everyone seems to care the most about their Instagram names. Lucky for us, the good souls at are nostalgic for the old days of Blog & Blog, so they’ve created a thing-y that will generate your very own (often alliterated, food tinged and color-wheeled) blogger name for you.

It is so fun to play with if you have something very important to do instead.

 then come back.

I got Ombré Oyster, Givenchy & Gouda, and Skipping Breakfast at Tiffany’s (used my last name for that last one). I actually did this so many times that I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized all of the possible combinations but still, tell me which ones you got.

AND THEN, even more importantly, be serious: if you had a fashion blog (if you have a fashion blog) what in the good name of triple alliteration would you call it?

Image shot by Krista Anna Lewis