Manolo for the Big Girl

So I completely ignored Couture back in January and I know some of youse (listen to me talk like a Yankee!) have complained about it, so here’s a little bit of fashion musing over the past fashion week doings.

So I’ve got to say I haven’t been moved thusfar in Paris, and I’m especially disappointed in the Galliano show. We love John Galliano. He is our Funky Little Fashion Troll. He loves women, his models almost always have breasts and hips and other lady parts generally shunned by the fashion industry.  I love him at Dior and I love the stuff he does for his own house.  That being said:

HUH?

I just didn’t get it.

I mean, there are some amazing individual pieces like this coat.

I love this coat.

I want to LIVE in this coat.

I want to marry this coat and cook its dinner and emotionally blackmail it around the holidays.

(more…)

It’s Tuesday, it’s rainy and I still cannot find the bottle of ten year-old Talisker I last set on the organ console at church.  That being said, let’s find out What Miss Plumcake is…

Reading: Fishing for Amber. A dreamy, phantasmagorical alphabet of short intertwining stories full of Celtic fairy tales, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Jack the Lad, the Dutch Golden Age, esoteric saints, curious historical incidents and a sentimental nod to his storytelling father.  Last night was D for Delphinium –retelling the tulipomania in Delft during the 17th century– and E for Ergot, the rye fungus related to LSD which was believed to cause St Anthony’s Dance, better known as Sydenham’s chorea, where scriveners tell of people literally dancing themselves to death.

Best consumed on rainy evenings next to a fire (p.s. you have to open the flue EVERY time. Whoops) with the single malt of your choice comfortably within reach of yourself, but out of reach of your surprisingly dipsomaniacal dog. You can pick it up at Amazon for essentially the cost of shipping, so get to it.

Watching: Green Wing. The second season is finally available on Hulu. Brilliant, howlingly obscene and very possibly the funniest show I’ve ever seen. Plus it features my secret ginger boyfriend, Julian Rhind-Tutt.  Not for the easily scandalized.

Hearing: Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers). What?  Can’t a fat white Episcopalian chick with an enviable collection of millinery occasionally bring the ruckus?

Smelling: Shalimar by Guerlain.  Sable coat luxury in perfume form but less likely to get you splashed with red paint. A big scent –especially the glorious original parfum version– this is one I apply liberally before hitting the hay so it’s not overpowering for day. Get the parfum if you can, but the edt is nothing to sniff at (get it? get it?!) either.

Loving: Mentoring. Not only do you get to be completely insufferable when people ask you what your lunch plans are “Oh me? I’m mentoring an at-risk youth. But no, you have fun getting your mani-pedi. I’ll just be here saving the world.” but it’s fun too.  Plus you can totally rip off their one-liners at cocktail parties because they’re too young to drink and can’t bust you on it. NOT THAT I WOULD EVER DO THAT.

Hating: DSquared2’s stupid redneck-themed show in Milan.

Wanting: Greenling Local Organic Delivery.  One of the things about wearing high-end shoes is knowing  I could probably meet the person who cobbled my shoes, look around and not feel bad about myself.  I can’t say the same thing about my groceries.

So when I discovered Greenling — a service delivering local, organic food and produce to your door (in super fuel-efficient vans, of course) once a week– I thought, “I’m having that!”  At $50 for both the local produce basket and the Farmstead basket of dairy/meat/bread goodies a week, it’s about the same as I’d regularly spend on groceries, plus I know if I really wanted to, I could get in my car and drive down to see where my food is produced.

Buying: The Breton Shirt. Shockingly versatile,  always chic and improves with age. Sound familiar (notice how I kept out the part about “found on top of French sailors?” That’s because I’m a LADY.) Accept no substitutes. It’s gotta come straight outta Brittany.  This company has the best prices and offers free worldwide airmail delivery.

So what’s turning your pages this week?

We’re in Milan now. Well I’m not, but the shows are.

I’m still here in Austin, nursing what might actually be the hamthrax and wondering how long it will be before I can go home and unearth my jammeroos, which are the pj’s I wear exclusively when I’m sick.

I’ll go back and do London later and talk about the three “plus size models” used in a show that caused two stylists to quit. I say “plus size” because two of them were American 8’s and 10’s, there was one size 12. The show was awful and the clothes are ugly, but read Style Spy’s reaction to tide you over.)

I don’t really know what to make of the Dolce and Gabbana show. I DO know they had several bloggers sitting in the front row, which I think is swell, and since I’m in big drop-drawers love with dinner jackets right now I loved pretty much all of those.

But.

Well, I didn’t HATE it, and I have a feeling it might grow on me, but as it stands right now? Meh.

I think the problem is, this didn’t really feel like a Dolce show to me. It felt like a mediocre Gaultier show with a splash of Dior. Now, a mediocre Gaultier show is still going to rock my casbah, but…I don’t know, I just didn’t love it.

Plus there were 63 exits. That’s a lot of exits. Up close the clothes are all amazing, but seriously, did they even edit at all? The show was all over the place. Do D and G ski *ahem* with Marc Jacobs?

There was the Latin cowboy look which was my favorite motif, providing some amazing jackets:

Loved this jacket, but can’t say I’m digging the pannier pants.

Very much want. But not the pants. It’s like a pumpkin is mourning in her crotch.

Yowza.

It’s tough for a big girl to do a whole severely tailored look, because our bodies fight it, but I do like –and often employ– a mess jacket over a feminine dress.

This look works better on apples than on pears, unless you’re quite tall or very comfortable with your legs since when doing a jacket/dress combo it’s best to keep the dress on the shortish side and wear a heel heavy enough to “anchor” the look.

I was not crazy about the widow’s weeds exits. It seemed messy to me,especially in the wake of Dior’s recent triumph with under-as-outer and lingerie fabrics, especially black Swiss, of which we see a lot in the Dolce show.

It either looked messy:

unfinished:

or just well, whatever the hell this is:

God, that’s a mess.

Which isn’t to say I didn’t like the show, I dug several of the exits including the unfinished one worn by Sessilee Lopez, my model of the moment. it’s just…it left me feeling vaguely dissatisfied. Like it sort of veered of into Givenchy In a Bad Way territory by way of Lady GaGa.

viz:

That’s one immaculately made bordello lampshade!

and did we really need what is essentially a cake wreck in corset form?

There weren’t any Enormous Ball Gowns so who knows what Vogue will do without them –I’m always glad to see them, but I’m just as happy they were given a break– but there were animal prints, because it wouldn’t be Dolce without them:

I’d say we’d see this on Beyoncé, but there isn’t enough gold lamé.

Narciso Rodriguez: I’ve never just loved what he does, although I guess I get it. I bet I’d like it a lot more if I could see it in person, but on the runway although I want to like it –I love playing with volume and cutting and shape– it leaves me cold. Mark my words though, Mrs. O is going to show up in that gray sheath (look 23) by this time next year.

 Mulberry: Hyper-twee 80’s redux. Some cute and wearable pieces buried deep (DEEP) below ruffle tiered skirts and crimped hair.

Max Azria: Donna Karan slasher film (doo dah, doo dah) but less blood, more beige. With this, BCBG and Herve Leger, does this make Azria the poor man’s Lagerfeld? I really want a cage skirt now.

 Matthew Ames: Is he Miyake? Loose, flowing, interestingly cut. Not a fan of the Issey homage, but it has its place and the color? Fab.

Although someone might want to tell Miss Tangerine that Preparation H isn’t taken orally. Geeze.

Marc by Marc Jacobs: Marc Jacobs is a genius. This show is not.

Vera Wang: My favorite thing about Wang is I get to say “Wang”. Other than that? Meh. Black, messy, uninspiring.  Incredible jewelry though.

Tibi: If that sullen girl from My So Called Life spent the summer with the Golden Girls, this is what she’d wear until Blanche slapped some sense into her. Hated it.

Temperley of London: I always think I dislike Alice Temperley because she reminds me of makeup artist and fellow Brit Charlotte Tilbury whom I dislike for a very good reason I can’t remember right now, and then I’m surprised when I see a Temperley show and don’t hate everything. True, she does tend towards costumey, and in the wrong hands this collection could go Circus Burlesque (which is less than ideal) but I dig the pattern and stripes, and we all know I’m a total tramp for a turban, top hat (full size, please) and tailored jacket.

Rodarte: The Sisters Mulleavy do tribal Highland grunge by way of the Thunderdome. Which isn’t to say I didn’t like it.

Philosophy:  Floaty, young and Creamsicle sweet. I hated the lip-print conceit that permeated nearly all the dresses, but I do like the ice cream man jackets and sherbet stripes of the earlier looks.

I’ll be honest, I’ve been disappointed by New York’s fashion week this go ’round. I haven’t made my way through all the shows but I’m just not moved. Partially because I like dressing like a grown up, which apparently is Just Not Done especially with the hot young designers whose goal is to throw the thinnest cotton voile imaginable on the thinnest model imaginable, spin her around like she’s getting ready to whack the mother of all pinatas and send her down the runway with whatever stuck.

So it fills my flask-shaped heart with glee to see Oscar de la Renta back in delightful form. Great colors, LOVE the hats and much of it is extremely wearable in larger sizes.

Revolutionary? No. But it’s genius in its own way.

We saw a lot of these great almost-Breton hats in this collection. It doesn’t look like an affectation at all, but does completely make the outfit in scale, and –as we see below– color.

Love this entire look. I think people wear blue and red together a lot for very casual wear, but you don’t see it often in sportswear, which is a shame because it looks amazing.

Am dying for this jacket. First I thought it was a print, but it appears to be passamenterie cord applique over a textured silk. I like a statement jacket over a shift, especially for our apple big girls.

I’m not sure this dress fits the model as well as I’d like, but I like that it’s not painted on. This would be one of those 20 year dresses. I could see myself wearing this when I’m 50, no problem.

If you MUST wear crochet, this is how to do it. Looks like the top is silk noil open work and the jacket is bouclé. Skirt looks to be voile with several types of lace treatment.

continuing with a crochet theme. Which one of you crafty broads could do one up for me, please?

Love love lovity love. I’ve seen things not dissimilar for the past few seasons from Lacroix and Gaultier, and there was another designer who did something similar this season which I like.

(I don’t even like this dress, but I promise you it’ll be on a red carpet near you, soon)

For those of you following the shows, let me know what you think. What’s wowed you? What’s bored you to tears? Most importantly, how much do I love Victoria Beckham (answer: a lot)?

Listen, it’s hard for me to get all het up about a little black dress anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE black and wear a ton of it. Half the dresses in my regular circulation are black and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I’ve built up a tolerance. I need more to get that same high. Most of my black dresses are useful because they serve as a backdrop to a tremendous scarf or a piece of statement jewelry or dramatic makeup.

Although Coco “What’s a little Nazi-sympathizing between friends” Chanel was said to have originated the idea of the LBD, it’s really Cristobal Balenciaga who made it into something.

When boy genius Nicolas Ghesquière took the reins at Balenciaga (you can thank him for the gladiator sandal trend, btw) he focused on bringing back the razor-sharp cutting that made the house famous. Ever since then, he almost always starts his shows with a handful of incredible mercilessly precise silhouettes, often in black.

My favorite collection of his in recent memory was his Fall 2008 RTW collection which featured a series of brutal, sculptural black dresses. The sort of thing one of the Addicted to Love girls would wear if they needed to kill someone at a cocktail party in the year 3000.

I love the severity, the austerity of these looks. However, it’s well nigh impossible to do severe and modern when your body is all soft and cushy and romantic. I’ve never once in my life pulled off “modern” (everything turns to either 1927 or 1951 on me, whether I like it or not) and  can only manage severe because with hair and heels I am six feet three inches of first rate bitch and that sort of inner quality just shines through.

So it’s about finding a look with some of the same ideas as these robo-vixen that translates well into something that is *gasp* actually wearable. Like this, from former Halston designer Randolph Duke:

This would be particularly good for the big girl who wants to draw attention to her shoulders and perhaps balance out the visual proportion of between shoulder and hips. I think I’d like a more colorful/interesting belt (something with a lot of aggressive modern hardware, or maybe two skinny belts in fuchsia and orange?) better than boring-but-serviceable black one that comes with it,  but otherwise I’d leave the accessories at a minimum. Maybe a pair of racing gloves.  Vroom.

I was going to postpone the Monday Hotness because I was “uninspired” by which mean I’ve got a hair appointment with Frédéric Fekkai’s former personal assistant/senior stylist who flies into town once every six weeks and I’m totally nervous and stress-eating those insidiously delicious pygmy carrots because I feel like I’m cheating on my long-suffering stylist with some hot new model, which –okay– I am, but I’ll be thinking about her the whole time.

**DEEP BREATH**

Whew.

Someone about whom I’ve also been thinking a lot is everyone’s favorite Funky Little Fashion Troll, John Galliano. John Galliano is a genius. There are a lot of talented designers out there but only a handful –I’d say McQueen, Gaultier and Lacroix, maaaybe Miuccia– are just out and out geniuses, and Galliano is one of them…maybe the best working today.

AND he loves women –all women– which is why he’s such a perfect fit for Dior. He understands our bodies and celebrates them. He has famously used plus-size women in his runway shows and even someone used to stunt casting can’t help but believe when Galliano says “Every body is beautiful” he means it.

“I don’t love dolls. I love women. I love their bodies.”

“I’m an accomplice to helping women get what they want.”

“The problem is with men. I know I shouldn’t say this, but they’ve shrouded and hidden women to hide their incompetence.”

“Women are women, and hurray for that.”

“Dressing up. People just don’t do it anymore. We have to change that.”

“I don’t care about money. I really don’t care. I just want to do what I do.”