Paris I

Dear Kristin,
Paris is nice.  Sigh.  Nice is nice, but it is not Jil Sander/Fendi.  It is wearable, though, especially Balenciaga's likable collections of graphic houndstooth and gloss and shapes and Doc like oxfords.  There was something raw and chiseled about it; classic, but a bit trippy.  Big foot fringy sandals?  And are those rubber sleeves?  It's clothing from our not-so-distant future.  But, also, clothing for a late 70s era superhero for use during said superhero's off-hours (grocery shopping?). Wait, make that a retired superhero who's also the editrix of Paris Vogue and moonlights as bass player in an all girl punk band called Pistols.  So, okay, I suppose it's a bit more than nice (oh, the shine on those hard, structural striped tank tops).  I was just trying to avoid a collage. It's a bit like the Ohne Titel collection - every piece belongs with the one that it preceded and followed.  But none of the above jibber-jabber is going to make any sense without a visual.

To be honest, it's probably one of the better everyday-geared collection we've seen this season (especially as far as inspiration is concerned).  I was just looking for straight-up art.  On another day, following another city's final collections (i.e. not Milan's Jil Sander), it might have felt like true love.  Oh, well.  I suppose I just expect too much wow now.  Balmain (switching topics) was even a bit boring!  I mean, of all the collections to be blarg.  (End thought).  But let's talk happy.  This weather, with its rain pellets and long gray sky, stinks.  But happy:

 Gothic.  Contained and wrapped.  Tails. (The tails mean far more to me than the ears, though the latter does help with the purgatorial effect).  Not exactly happy, but, as this blog is about what makes me happy (darker fairytales often do), and not what is happy, Rick Owens's spring collection must be included.

Finally, a breath of fresh lavender:


Dries Van Noten reminds me of why I love Paris in the spring time.

  This is more than nice, no?  This is love.  In order, from left to right: it's soft disco, set in heaven; it's drinking a fresh squeezed lemonade after the air's begun to cool, a holiday in silk pajamas, a black and white noir in only white.  And blowing bubbles into the sunrise.  And, hello, Day, I missed you.  And ohmygodanactualangel.

And a springtime walk of shame, sans shame:  

And:

And I don't know what that is, but it reminds me of why I spend hours browsing collection after collection.  I felt I hadn't the time for it today; I was going to skip it and skip the blog.  Dries Van Noten makes me happy I didn't.

Love,
J. Benny