Better late than never. At last, in our fashion week narrative, we have reached the final chapter, the last movement before the grand finale (CHANEL AW10, sayitwithmenow!). Paris Paris Paris, how I love thee, let me count the ways. It's a good thing the whole shibang winds down in the city of light, as, by this point, cafes and croissants are packed with more appeal than catwalks and the temptation to slag off any and all shows is nearly insurmountable. But then hand calligraphied invites embossed in gold arrive at your hotel, beckoning you to venues such as the Louvre, the Grand Palais (a far cry from, ahem, say Saunders at the Truman Brewery), and magic, despite your newly crystallized fashion indifference, suddenly creeps back in the game.
Lucky for me, Lily Templeton, my friend and fellow bloginista behind the French site
Mademoiselle A Paris, decided to fly her Parisian coop for the duration so as to cover the X Games in Switzerland. Fair enough. Hence, there was a fluttering of admin and a hand over of some tickets in exchange for some content. That is to say, I've already reviewed many of the shows for her blog though I've failed to indicate that anywhere on this site. So without further ado, I redirect you to Paris, to
Mademoiselle A Paris, as it were, for the final installment (for now) of the Whisperer's Fashion Week Adventures.
Alonzi!!!
"A new proposal of the concept of morphing. The juxtaposition of the man-made and the organic...I extended this concept into the very fibres of the collection, incorporating a nanotechnology process that merges the matter...Nature/future, Thoureau's Walden/Asimov's Android," somewhat nonsensically read the show notes at trendy Italian label
CoSTUME National.
The juxtaposition of the man-made and the organic was immediately tenable in the slick, tinfoil silver supertight trousers and mini skirts--classic
CoSTUME clubwear--teamed with intricately texture fibrous looking beige knitwear which opened the show. What Italian designer Ennio Capasa meant with his references to Walden, not so obvious...
more sil vous plait
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| I heart these trousers, I have some similar from McQ but with a bit of biker tude |
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| There was lots of neutral on neutral action |
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| The texture on this is just stunning |
Better late than never. At last, in our fashion week narrative, we have reached the final chapter, the last movement before the grand finale (CHANEL AW10, sayitwithmenow!). Paris Paris Paris, how I love thee, let me count the ways. It's a good thing the whole shibang winds down in the city of light, as, by this point, cafes and croissants are packed with more appeal than catwalks and the temptation to slag off any and all shows is nearly insurmountable. But then hand calligraphied invites embossed in gold arrive at your hotel, beckoning you to venues such as the Louvre, the Grand Palais (a far cry from, ahem, say Saunders at the Truman Brewery), and magic, despite your newly crystallized fashion indifference, suddenly creeps back in the game.
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