known as Marc Jacobs. Yep, that's my nickname for him and has been, will be, forever. Marc, you have my heart, you are my everything American designer and I am truly, madly in love in love in love with this collection.
So let's just cut to the chase. I've been so sick, going from one fabulous "my-child's-school-is-a-CDC-nightmare" virus to another and I'm so very behind, I cannot begin to believe that London Fashion Week has already begun. I've got loads of "favorites" to share from the shows as I've been collecting them on and off all week but the practice of focus, creativity and all around articulation (not to mention staring at a bright screen) has really just been escaping me. But I'll get there. I'll pump it out in the next 24 hours, not necessarily because anyone really gives a well-heeled shoe what my opinions are of Fall 2010 fashion but it's all part of a higher education. I have to absorb it or I will quickly be behind; the frocks, like the times, they are a'changin'.
I used to know this girl who thought my affection for Marc was solely based on some label obsession but I can honestly say that I have never been a label obsessed person. What I'm obsessed with is unique style, a voice that rises above the rumble, and amazing work. Marc embodies all of those things. If I could dress like this every day for the rest of my life, that would be more than fine with me.
Rarely will I show almost a complete collection but if you know me, you know why I'm doing it (and you'll also know that I am not a fan of fur but will be delighted to find that what follows below is all faux...did I mention that I love you, Marc Jacobs?). And if you don't know me, just look and you'll understand. While you do that, I'm off to find bobby socks, mary janes and let out all my hems. (all photos ny mag)
In other news, I finally did something I've wanted to do since I was about 13 -- put a solid chunk of platinum in my black locks. You know you have those moments where something just needs to be different, well I was having one of those moments. They used to be caused by break-ups and I would find myself at the Rite Aid at 11:00 at night perusing L'Oreal color in a box and later frying my scalp with G-d knows what chemicals. Sometimes it turned out ok. Sometimes it turned out magenta. I decided, too, to finally heed some advice I was given years and years ago while walking down the street in New York City, age 16, "dress for the job you want, not the job you have." This came from our tour guide who was kind enough to get my back as some of the ponytailed cheerleader types in my group were mocking my ensemble (I was rocking a one-piece '30's jumper and men's shoes purchased from the Goodwill...ok, maybe I see their point). Anyway, she knew I had this aspiration to do something with fashion and so those words stuck. So I'm still not really doing "anything with" fashion but we get derailed by life and you know what, that's ok. I'm a firm believer in "everything happens for a reason" and "you are never too old to be what you were going to be."
Anyway, back to the hair. This is no great shot, please refrain from laughter, I am going on day 11 of being sick.
Also accomplished this week: the purchase and viewing of Valentino: The Last Emperor. I'm not sure how many times I'm going to watch it this weekend but it would not be a stretch to say that the odds of it leaving my dvd player are very slim. What inspiration, what passion, what style. I was so moved by the relationship between Valentino and Giancarlo Giammetti that, coupled with the exuberance of his last show and the down right brilliance, I was in tears. The Last Emperor could not have been a more appropriate title. I've been replicating Valentino sketches for "practice" for years but the skill and craftsmanship, like someone said in the film, will sadly be gone with him. Who will be left to teach the couture of the '20's and '30's that Valentino learned in the '50's? I've always preferred hand stitching myself but it's not the way to the bottom line and, sadly, that's what's important to shareholders. Let's just all pray for a couture renaissance and hope that there are designers available with even an 1/8th of Valentino's talent and vision. We could only be so lucky.