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| NYFW - Marc Jacobs RTW Fall 2012 |
A Sunday-night preview flaunted major
fashion — girls awaiting fittings in enormous furry hats, Pilgrim by way
of Dr. Seuss (and Stephen Jones), atop elaborate pilings of impeccably
sculpted clothes in incredible custom fabrics and tricked-out
(holograms, sparkly buckles) shoes. What the preview didn’t telegraph:
the intense emotion and lyricism of the show Marc Jacobs would present
in little more than 24 hours.
It started with perusals of advancedstyle.blogspot.com, a Web
site that celebrates elder New York fashion of a certain flamboyance,
and morphed into a poignant visual commentary on embellishment,
self-expression, decay.
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| Marc Jacobs RTW Fall 2012 |
Along the way there were major weather-induced fabric delays
(snow in Europe!), the subsequent involvement of a Learjet, and a
spur-of-the-moment conversation between Jacobs and Rachel Feinstein
barely two weeks ago that resulted in the intriguing set she designed.
“I’m thinking about broken things and Puritans and Pilgrims and kind of
fake winter melancholy,” Jacobs told her. “That’s right up my alley,”
she offered back. The result was a series of decaying grottoes made of
paper-thin wood, their decrepit arches encompassing several staircases
from which the girls would descend.
They wore stoles over coats over skirts over pants, squarish
sweaters over egg-shaped dresses, fitted brocade jumpers over crisp
shirts. Most looks demonstrated a shushed-up Edwardian undercurrent in
their curvature of silhouette, the structure achieved through cut and
construction rather than cumbersome crinolines. The fabrics proved worth
waiting for: intricately wrought brocades, tweeds bonded to leather,
glitter tulle embroidered with wool yarn and sequins, and on and on.
Throughout, shots of color, both bold and gentle, interrupted the
dominant blacks and grays.
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| Marc Jacobs RTW Fall 2012 |
Even at the sober end of the color spectrum, the prevailing abundance
contrasted with the girls’ mien, slow and graceful, an almost elegiac
quality to their serenity. They walked to the soulful “Who Will Buy
(This Wonderful Morning)?” a ballad of anticipation of harsher times to
come from a musical about street urchins. One couldn’t help but feel the
emotion. Nor could one miss the thematic progression from lots of stuff
to black frayed patchwork dresses that closed the show. A statement of
the beauty and inevitability of mourning from a brilliant, complicated
designer no longer young? Perhaps. Or maybe just Jacobs’ chic evening
alternative to sparkly mermaids. At its best, fashion leaves you
wondering.
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