The Story with Dick Gordon and Fluff/Eric

Here's the story for us New Yorkers who will have a time trying to catch this! Hope you enjoy it!
Listen! http://thestory.org/archive/the_story_870_Eric_Gaskins.mp3/view

my best to you all,
Fluff

Fluff comes out on the Airwaves 29 Sept. 09

Tomorrow or today , when ever you see this, I am speaking out on a PBS sponsored program called: The Story with Dick Gordon. It's aired on about 100 radio stations at different times . Go to "thestory.org" and click on the heading that says "where to hear the story" and they list the times and states where it will broadcast. If you miss it during its airing tomorrow , just go to the same site and check the archive and hit play . It will be an interview with me, Eric Gaskins , but is all about Fluff and The Emperors Old Clothes. I hope you'll tune in, I had fun and it gives you a little insight as to me and Eric!
Enjoy and thanks for reading the blog. You all are wonderful friends !
Fluff

Civil War Home Front

Civil War Home Front, designed by Barbara Brackman & Susan Stiff, pieced by Monica Rodarmer, 2009, 79 1/2" x 79 1/2".

I hope you noticed the full-page advertisement for my Civil War Home Front reproduction collection for Moda in the October Quilters Newsletter. It features a reproduction quilt that makes the most of the stripes and paisleys in the collection.

We are selling kits for this quilt, which is the result of a collaboration by five people. One is the anonymous maker of the original star quilt, in the collection of the International Quilt Study Center and Museum (#1997.007.0644). See it by clicking here:

http://www.quiltstudy.org/includes/photos/quilt_database/large/1997_007_0644.jpg

Moda artist Susan Stiff and I designed the reproduction quilt---which is more an interpretation than a copy. Monica Rodarmer pieced it. She wrote, "numerous times during the piecing I thought about the original quilters putting their quilt together...no rotary cutters, high intensity lights, computerized sewing machines…" And I am also grateful to the machine quilter whose name I do not know.

The pattern for the quilt will be in the Dec/Jan 2009 issue of Quilter's Newsletter magazine. And the bolts should be in the quilt shops in late November.

Hickory Hoops stripe above and Cracker Pie paisley. Below a woman with the ideal silhouette for Civil-War-era fashion.

I named the individual prints in this collection for the make-do substitutes that Southern women came up with when they lost their access to factory and imported goods. The stripe in the edge triangles is called Hickory Hoops, reminding us that many rural women used wooden slats for home-made fashion underpinnings to support skirts like the one above. The paisley in the border is Cracker Pie, a recipe for a fake apple pie using seasoned crackers as the filling. Click on the link for a World War II era recipe for cracker pie, an idea that may have originated before the Civil War.

Cracker Pie
http://www.cakespy.com/2008/09/american-pie-recipe-for-quick-fix.html

A.P. Social Studies: The Vogue Clack

No season is complete without Vogue Clack-watching. This season was was no less interesting than others except for it's slightly splintered quality. The players on the leader board are slightly altered. Those who used to sit at the right arm of the Mother Superior, Sister Mary Anna, have changed. Gone, for the most part is Monsignor Talley. He's been replaced by Sister Mary Grace, Father Hamish and a Novitiate, soon to be a full fledged nun, Novice Sister Mary Alexandra. Sister Mary Tonne was almost always in attendance.

Like the first three years of Catholic school that I attended, Saint Mary's, this movable convent was to the naked eye very strict, humorless and sober. They all conducted themselves as though they were the examples and we, the pagan masses, were to be educated by their stern example. As someone always interested in self-improvement, I watched closely to glean some tips on how to better myself. In doing so ,I learned a few valuable lessons on what to do and what not.

At the small handful of shows that the group appeared all together, they had a way of drifting in on what appeared to be a celestial cloud. Anna, the Mother Superior was often first, but never alone. She was either accompanied by Sister Mary Grace of the untamed long wild Red hair or with her body guard. Yes, a body guard who stood directly in front of her doing the body block. He'd move aside if someone important or a member of the press came up for a word. He'd move a foot or so to the left or right , but never strayed. He was the most unsubtle body guard I've ever watched. He was big on talking into his cuff and looking deadly serious when scanning the clueless and addled crowd. Sister Mary Anna sat staring straight ahead in her big dark shades at Secret Agent Doe's crotch. That's where her gaze seemed leveled. In dark glasses, you can never tell where one is looking.

Her expression was always dead with a few exceptions. If she passed a comment to here left or right to the members of her convent , they were passed without expression or animation. At Donna Karan she appeared almost angry, until I realized that it was the day of the Federer finals match at the U.S.Open., where she obviously would rather be. Before the last girl exited at the shows end, she was AWOL. Gone, gone , gone.

At Isaac Mizrahi, she was a lot more animated, actually happy-seeming and engaged, at least before the show. I can't say the same once the show began. When everyone was storming in, photogs were shooting her and her gaggle of anointed brothers and sisters. The body guard was smack in front talking to his sleeve or was it the heel of her shoe, I'm not sure. At one point Bill Cunningham tripped over this slab that was sitting in the middle of the runway to talk with her. There ensued a very animated exchange complete with laughs and hand holding, arms waving and general bon homie. It was kind of cool. I've never seen her so alive and cheerful. This happened with Bill a couple of times before the start of the show. Each time the exchange ended, the body guard stepped back into position.

Sister Mary Grace was most definitely the star of the group. People all around wee totally captivated by her. Some were cheering at her presence outside the venues as they would arrive and leave. But a lot of eyes stayed glued to her. She seemed very natural in view of the attention and unfazed throughout. What I loved most about Grace was as the show progressed she sketched the looks she liked from beginning to end. Her pencil never paused and I was close enough to see that he was drawing and not note-taking. She's passionate, truly engaged and passionate about her calling. In contrast, Mother Superior sat like a bored lump. Bored and unamused. Father Hamish looked to be in full chat with Alexandra and also sketching. I was puzzled by his sketching, but hey, at least he was engaged. His sartorial choices were impressive. The world according to Hamish Bowles is one to dress for. Everyday is a reason to wear your most extravagant Bespoke ,suit, shirt and tie. Finish it all of with an arresting Coat and hand-made shoes. I learned that one way to command attention and respect is to dress to Overwhelm. His wardrobe is staggering. He is certainly an example of a man having as much fun as a woman playing dress-up. He did a much better job than most women in attendance.

I think a poker face is a good thing to master at the shows. Looking bored, offended or dead do nothing but give people like me fodder to write about. Whatever happened to charm and good sportsmanship? Grace looks intrigued whether she is or isn't. Anna looks like she's got indigestion or an inflamed hammer toe. When the rain machine came on directly over that slab which almost sent Bill Cunningham flying headfirst onto Anna's lap, she recoiled in horror. It was inconveniently positioned just feet in front of her. Perhaps the water was splashing onto her bare legs. She recoiled and then looked up at the water works as though she could will the thing to stop. That seemed to take the joy out of the experience. Grace appeared to be amused by it. I certainly was. It was interesting watching her discomfort and the body guard, now seated on the ground to her immediate left, madly talking into his armpit.

The final insult came when Isaac sent out a golf cart with a model in the passenger seat and parked it right in front of Anna. I think it was Isaac's passive aggression getting the better of him. If he blocked her in the parking lot, maybe she couldn't bolt when the show came to an end. No matter, his well intended ploy slowed her for about 30 seconds. When the models came to take their final turn and Isaac walked the length of his considerable runway to acknowledge the audience's applause, Sister Mary Anna got up and tore down the runway towards the exit. There was no warning to anyone from her team, certainly not the body guard, who was forced to sprint after her. Granted, she had another engagement, it just didn't look good to watch the editor of Vogue magazine running as fast as possible from your show.

Walk quickly, but don't run. You may accidentally step on Rachel Zoe who's slithering under foot.

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Social Studies: The audience is as entertaining as the runway.

Rachel Zoe wearing Marc Jacobs!






The tents were rife with entertainment. We were there, or at least I was, to see the collections. Many invited guests and followers of the Fashion circus were all fixed on the collections. The tension and excitement in the air was thick enough to cut with a machine gun. Outside the tents where crowds gathered to watch the glittering throngs enter and exit was a strange scene. The whole star gazing thing has always been a mystery to me. That isn't to say that I'm not curious or occasionally captivated when I see someone of note a few feet away. I'll stare like the next guy/girl but it's not the thing I live for. You got the feeling that there were people there day in and out just to watch those few come and go for the sheer thrill of seeing"them".

Personally, it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Part of me just wanted to say to the huddled masses,"It's really no big Woop". But that's easy to say when you're on the way in and others are not. Waiting in line to get your seating assignment is another experience. Impatience is a disease of the Fashionable. For some silly reason many people get very annoyed having to wait to get this important detail handled. I think it has something to do with a misguided idea that they think the world should know who they are and none of the rules of protocol need apply to them. Others use that wrinkle in time to preen. I watched countless men and mostly women adjusting their clothes, hair,and makeup. Two women, whom i spotted a number of times, kept adjusting each other's dresses and hair for each other. Literally, tugging on the dress, unzipping and re-zipping the others dress and adjusting bra straps. Like two blonde apes picking off vermin or in this case, rearranging the vermin to it's best advantage.

Once inside, it's a floor show of who sits where, who is who and who is not. I was fortunate to have a front row seat on a few occasions, and let me tell you, that is the best seat in the house. Best because you get to watch the high rollers, the "Whales" as it were, in all their glory.The photographers are stalking their prey and the players are doing their best to act as though nothing out of the ordinary is going on. If it were me and I was talking to a friend next to me and suddenly had three cameras on me at the same time all flashing within two feet of me, I think I would notice a slight disturbance. Not these guys. They all played as though nothing unusual was happening and either stopped to pose or just kept talking about whatever. Self consciousness is left in the Town car down the block.

When the two blondes came in in search of their seats a couple of cameras turned on them and started shooting. For the life of me, I had no idea who they were except a couple of women in strapless and one-shouldered cocktail dresses at 11:00 in the morning. A few ladies behind me were buzzing loudly about hearing that this one and that one were going to be there. They were on fire at the prospect of catching sight of this celebrity or that one and could barely contain their excitement. When the two inappropriately dressed she-apes came in they were asking each other who they were. It was a frenzy of questions. One tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I knew. Maybe they thought that a front row seat implies knowledge. All I could say was," I think they're two overdressed blondes !" Those ladies looked at me like I was insane. I guess I am.

The people I watched and enjoyed a lot were the teams from the major Department stores: the Saks, Neiman's, Bergdorf Goodman, Barneys and Nordstrom's gangs. So much self regard,self importance and silliness. They looked as though they were scientists or juiced up entertainers. Lots of air kissing and chair hopping to and fro. The few who were interviewed by roving TV stations were animated and long winded until it was over then they sat back down with an expression of boredom. They seemed to live for those moments. When the shows started all traces of animation was shut off. Poof! Dead eyes with no traces of life. I guess that's the way it's done. That's why they make the big bucks.....

Who got the interview was just as interesting as who didn't. The really sharp people like the editors from the NY Times,Cathy Horyn and Eric Wilson or Teri Agins from the Wall Street Journal were more often passed over for some deadbeat stylist like Rachel Zoe or some past her shelf life socialite. I honestly don't think Jamee Gregory has much to bring to the table. Rachel was one of the most bored , sour pussed front row viewers at every show I attended. She's Runway Poison.

It was fun to spy on Rachel after having watched a couple of episodes from her "reality" show. If that's reality then give me reruns of Knot's Landing. Can she be as jaded and absurd in person as she is on the little screen? Actually, yes. Her expert eye was of more interest to me than her behavior which is graceless and obnoxious. Rachel likes to sit front and center with the biggest dark glasses on in the room. They stay on ala Anna even with a camera in her hand. I watched her at Derek Lam to see what would strike her red carpet fancy. Well, nothing seemed to. She sat staring scornfully throughout until the very end when the sparkly numbers trotted by. Sportswear designers rarely have a gift for evening clothes unless they are Michael Kors or Francisco Costa. These beaded numbers were either cutesy or plainly overwrought. When the most regrettable of the four came out, all gold sequins and cheap looking, off came the sunglasses and Rachel starting shooting. I laughed to myself because I knew she would hone in on the tackiest dress of the collection. But what do I know? I'm just a myopic cat without a clue.

I discovered that I'm not alone.

Hispanic Advertising Awards

Report from Miami:
The level of the winners of the AHAA Ad Age Hispanic Awards this year was consistently high and most of them displayed sophisticated, rigorous creative thinking. None of the ads seemed silly or half baked, which has been the case with some entries in previous years. Quite the contrary, the respect afforded to language and craftsmanship, to thorough creative thinking and quality executions is very encouraging. All of the winners seem to belong in the same range of quality. Moreover, most of the winners are based on actual Hispanic insight. They pass the test of "why is this Hispanic?" with flying colors. This is very good news. It shows that our niche market certainly has room for a high level of creative excellence that still delivers on our cultural nuance.
There were two Best of Shows (which as someone pointed out, is sort of oxymoronic). One was the campaign by Lápiz for Pepto Bismol, a wry take on the foods you love that hurt you (a Spanish pun on hurting both your stomach and your feelings). They are funny and insightful, but talking to Lawrence Klinger, Lápiz's Chief Creative Officer, I mentioned that cheesecake is not necessarily hard on the stomach. He concurred and told me that there will be more challenging foods in the next iterations of the campaign. This is a campaign that could easily play in any Spanish speaking country; even in any country where people love to eat heavy, demanding foods.

It's always good to see women on the stage, and I don't mean the models who give out the prizes and who still, in the dawn of the 21st Century, get whistles from our boys in the audience. I mean female creatives. The fact that an openly gay creative director also gets whistled at really gives one pause. Perhaps we can leave that sort of atavistic, puerile machismo behind? Some day?
Remember Little Lulu's friend Toby who would not let girls into his treehouse? This problem is rampant in advertising in general. And the Hispanic agencies are no exception. We need to see more mixed creative teams which are not "El Club de Toby", like the Lápiz winning team.

The other Best of Show winner was a single ad by Latinworks, for the Cine Las Américas film festival, a hilarious use of real footage of President Menem of Argentina giving a bizarre speech about Argentinian spaceships. The tagline: "if this is our reality, just imagine our movies". The campaign includes other surreal executions like Hugo Chávez talking about getting coca leaves from Evo Morales. It is smart and simple and brilliant.
My other favorites were Adrenalina's wonderful spots for Tecate, which are the strategy come to life but with great casting, excellent direction and a smart, infectious sense of humor. The Mexican parents of a young guy read him the riot act about his drinking bad light beer, instead of Tecate. I particularly liked how Adrenalina integrated radio into the campaign. They could have lifted the dialogue from the TV spots but they created a hilarious ad with a long funny disclaimer about who is not to drink Tecate. Very macho, but that's the beer drinking target. My feeling was that this campaign was flawlessly executed and right on strategy and was a strong contender for Best of Show, but my hunch is that it was too Mexican. Lately, a lot of the best creative seems directed to (and acted by people who look like) the people who come up with it, rather than the actual consumers. Thus, the Tecate campaign has merit for being right on target and still being creative and funny. After the controversial DDB Brazil WWF fake ad, it behooves agencies and award shows alike to take a hard look at creative pieces and make sure they are intended to work in the real world, not just to win awards.
My feeling however, is that there were no "truchos" among the winners this year. The work felt refreshingly honest.
Another great campaign was Grupo Gallegos' campaign for Latin Cable Comcast. It's a very clever spin on preferring to watch TV in language rather than with subtitles. It demonstrates the superiority of in language communications simply and hilariously and it found an ingenious way of translating the very visual concept into radio.
I also liked The Vidal Partnership NFL ad where a guy asks what's a yard and his friend responds with a poem to the game and then shows him with his hands the actual length. Again, it shows Hispanic insight in a clever, creative way.

I will say one thing that drives me crazy: when agencies win CREATIVE awards and instead of sending their creative teams to the show, they send some account executive who has no business being on that stage. It takes the creatives of such agencies blood, sweat and tears to come up with those spots, let alone sell them through the line, and convince the agency to spring the money to enter award shows. They deserve respect and recognition from their creative peers.

As the winners celebrated, I thought that Hispanic agencies (at least the ones who win awards) have come a long way. Yet after over 16 years of working in this market I find it amazing that we still have many hurdles to overcome when convincing clients to advertise to Hispanics. It's as if the agencies have grown creatively in leaps and bounds, yet many clients are still taking baby steps. No matter how much marketing research belies the Latino spending power, many clients are still wary of putting their marketing dollars into Hispanic efforts. These days, the appalling anti-immigration rhetoric is not helping our cause, which is all the more reason to fight harder for brand solidarity and visibility. But at least it's encouraging to know that there are agencies out there doing stellar work, in spite of all the hardships.

After Miss Julie

So many things are wrong in this play by Patrick Marber, based on Miss Julie by August Strindberg, that I don't know where to begin.
But let's start with the play. Why is it necessary to revamp Miss Julie? It's a great sordid, brutal play, and it was scandalous in 1888, when it was written. The story is timeless. It's about the absurdity of class differences and the war between the sexes.
I wrote a (yet unpublished) novel set in Mexico City that is a version of Miss Julie. Any time that a rich woman has the hots for a poor man, it's either Miss Julie or Lady Chatterley's Lover or both. Sex is kinkier whenever there is a class divide. However, Marber decides to transport the story to England in the 1940's after WWII. This seems totally arbitrary. Why not leave it where it was? The psychological destruction between the characters transcends eras, even if the class differences have been blurred in our modern age. So the 40s don't seem any different than today. Why not do it today? You don't have to live in a manor and be an aristocrat to feel superior and abusive to those who serve you. Mind games are eternal. So the play seems superfluous. It has a couple of good zingers but it is vulgar and shallow (not unlike other Marber plays).  Perhaps it is better than what it is afforded by the lackluster, absurd direction by Mark Brokaw.
The actors sound stilted and frozen, as if speaking British means pausing a full second after every word. Except for a wonderful moment of stagecraft where a mob is supposed to approach the kitchen, the production is utterly boring. The seismic shifts of mood between the actors make no sense. The fact that the driver and Miss Julie are humping feverishly as the mob approaches looks ridiculous. The whole thing is absurd and dead on arrival.
But the biggest problem is the casting. Neither Sienna Miller nor Jonny Lee Miller have the chops nor the talent to play these roles. Nothing they do makes any sense. Miss Miller is at the level of the class ham in a high school production. She couldn't play an aristocrat if it bit her in the rump. She is not of the school of British actresses that can do high style in their sleep. She's like Michael Caine, not like Michael Redgrave; that is, low class. As amply demonstrated by Mr. Caine, there is nothing wrong with that; she is just not right for this part. However, in her defense I will say that she is heard loud and clear, enunciates perfectly and has some good moments here and there, mostly when she is angry (the easiest thing to do when you are a neophyte actor). There is a semblance of character there, even if it's saddled with embarrassing amateurish tics, like what looks from afar like the constant chewing of fingernails. Mr. Miller is absolutely terrible and worse than her. He has no charisma and there is no rhyme or reason to his motivations. Half the time he mumbles. The rest, he huffs and puffs. He is stuck in a kitchen, what is he so exhausted about? It's not that there is zero chemistry between the two Millers, there is minus zero chemistry. Not a good thing when the play is about lust.
The only person with any theatrical dignity is Marin Ireland, a seasoned American stage actress, as Christine, the maid and fiancee of John, the driver. The moral of this story: Britannia doesn't always rule.
I find it really disturbing that the Roundabout Theater is cynical and craven enough to put these two young actors into such a thankless position in order to sell tickets. There are plenty of qualified actors who can play these roles and even bring box office success. These two are not them.

Armchair Protests

I got wind that there is going to be a demonstration in support of healthcare reform today at noon. If you are thinking the great lawn at Central Park or the Mall in Washington, you are sadly mistaken. This is on the corner of 37th and 8th Ave.
WTF?
Why is it that racists and bullies and haters can show up at the White House happily and unimpeded and liberals are constitutionally incapable of organizing their own ass?
After that appalling circus from the right wing nut jobs, shouldn't there have been a massive counter protest in the same place drawing the purported majority of Americans who demand public healthcare? Everybody kvetches, but no one wants to do anything about it. Wouldn't it be rich if we had one of those concerts with pop music superstars to demand better healthcare for Americans? Instead, we are supposed to meet at 37th and 8th Ave.
It's pathetic.

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Painful Posts....

Gang ,
I just posted a review of Peter Som and Doo.Ri a moment ago. It's dated Friday, but as you can see it's now Monday. That just shows you how hard it is sometimes to find something to say that's even remotely of any interest or value. I'm not convinced that I succeeded. It's the thought that counts but maybe some thoughts are better kept to onesself, just like some collections. Let's hope the others I still have left to share are less difficult births.
Always my best,
Fluff

Miami Bitch

Just spent three nights in Miami, attending a Hispanic advertising conference.
Here are some generalized impressions about Miami.
There are a lot of new empty high rises.
There are a lot of very tacky people, with extremely tacky tastes.
People like and wear logos around here. They haven't gotten the memo.
It's a superficial and uninteresting version of LA, when LA was a cultural wasteland.
It's humid.
Every hotel thinks the swimming pool should be a disco, regardless of the wishes or opinions of the guests. This being Miami, the playlists seem to be chosen by committees of vulgarian technopop sadists. This idiotic dj-ing at the pool drove me crazy, and for this reason alone I consign Miami to its own circle of hell. 
Another curious idiocy are the check in and out times (at least in my hotel). Check in is at 4 pm, which means, if you took a morning flight, you are to wander around without a room for most of the day. And checkout, get this, is at a prompt 11 am. For a town where tourists party (since there's nothing else to do), this is absurd.
Miami is an outpost of Latin America without the charm. There is absolutely no need to conduct yourself in English.
The beach is nice, the sea is warm, but there is garbage on the beach. Now, when I get into the sea I wonder if the fishies are swallowing my SPF 500. We really are gross, us humans.
But they do have a branch of Paul, the famous French boulangerie. And we don't.
And they have the only airport in this country where you can eat actual food (Cuban and delicious).

Hannah Haynes Headlee

Basket of Roses Medallion by Hannah Haynes Headlee, Topeka, Kansas, 1938

A few days ago the little sister of my much-missed old friend Marie Shirer brought a great quilt to my class. Carolyn had inherited the quilt above from her parents. Her father's mother's sister (Carolyn and Marie's great-grand aunt) was Hannah Headlee, an applique quilter extraordinaire.

Hannah Haynes Headlee 1866-1943

Hannah was a painter who did watercolors and china painting. One of my favorite quilts in the whole world is her Iris Garland, which is now in the collection of the Kansas Museum of History. Click here for more information: http://www.kshs.org/cool2/coolquil.htm

Iris Garland by Hannah Haynes Headlee, Topeka, Kansas, about 1935. Collection of the Kansas Museum of History.

A few of Hannah's seven known quilts are still in the family; Carolyn's cousins inherited some.
Cranes by Hannah Haynes Headlee, Topeka, Kansas, about 1934

The Peacock by Hannah Haynes Headlee, Topeka, Kansas, about 1932. Collection of the International Quilt Study Center and Museum.

Marie, Carolyn and I had lost track of the Peacock and I told Carolyn I would look around for it. I found it in the IQSC, a good home.

See their picture of it here: http://www.quiltstudy.org/includes/photos/quilt_database/large/2005_024_0001.jpg

You'll notice Hannah's unique border style---sort of a gothic swag.

Peter Som: The Nana Diaries ...and Doo.Ri

Peter Som sent out a collection that was better than his most recent ones. It again was a styling project. A dress, top or skirt under a little coat was finished with a dollop of a Granny hat perched on top. There is something decidedly cool, very moneyed-hipster girl about these clothes. She's eclectic. Perhaps she went to Dalton instead of Chapin and ended up at Barnard instead of Yale. This girl wants proximity to the center of the action. She likes her fashion Lite. Well that's exactly what she finds in this collection. Lady-ish young clothes all put together in unexplained ways.

A very cute short skirt in a floral print with a top and coat was one of my favorites,very gamine in an insoucient sort of way. Beyond that the hats were the leit motif that ran through a collection of odd ball pieces. To make draped dresses in cotton or other relatively stiff fabrics doesn't register with me. Soft, fluid fabrics lend themselves so much easier to that task. This collection was rife with draping and all of it in cotton,with the exception of a few tops on georgette. All of them looked stiff and cumbersome.It had a down market feel to it. The sweaters and tops in striped knits and a few clean, sleek fitted dresses said it best.

This Pantie as outer wear instead of inner wear is way over my head. I can't see a woman actually walking around with a blouse, jacket and panties at a party unless that party has a theme. Tossing a draped snood on her head and sunglasses that were very vintage in design all added up to a thrift store look. I have to say Peter was one of the very few who didn't buy into the platform shoe directive. His choice of silver pumps and a shocking blue didn't add to the looks cohesion, but it was a step out from the pack.

The still life presentation is great because you can see the quality of the collection. His economy was obvious , but the same fabrics kept showing up in too many pieces.

My overall impression was that of cleaning out the closets of your favorite Nana and instead of donating them to the Church flea market they got sent down the runway. If in fact Peter hooks up with Tommy Hilfiger, I would guess it will be a good match. Their aesthetic will probably meet in the middle. But that remains to be seen and also remains to be announced.

Doo.Ri in contrast did a collection that seemed to have a similar target audience, only her aim was much better. The draping of silk jersey , which she's known for appeared here in very simple sexy wedge minis and in tops paired with skirts with a tiny flutter of jersey at the waist , or over shorts. The overall effect of her broader collection was young, sexy and straight forward in an artsy way. I've not been much of a fan in the past feeling that she churns out looks each season that are too similar. This Spring collection was clearly her voice but seemed to take itself a bit less seriously and looked fresh and interesting. The same sort of artlessness which Som attempted looked forced and self conscious in comparison. These were clothes that would translate easily to many body types and ages. There was a worldliness to it that I found compelling and beautiful.

One of my favorite dresses was a blue jersey fan pleated dress with just enough interest on the bodice and a soft easy skirt. Nothing about it was over-stated or coy. Another dress of draped lace over a silk under dress was also interesting in its use of an unconventional, abstract lace. I like unexpected versions of familiar fabrics, in this case, a chantilly lace that foregoes flowers for what looks more like a spider's web. The platform shoes looked a bit heavy and brutal for clothes that were essentially light and fluid, but that seems to be the law this season. Platforms everywhere, whether they add to the equation or not.

Proenza Schouler: The art of the Tank Dress

That says it in a word, though it's illustrated about 30 times, that's the message here this season. I would have expected there would be a bit more to sink my teeth into. Any dress,even a tank dress takes technique, but once mastered it's fine to move onto more challenging shapes. Beautiful fabrics abounded which was a welcome departure. As creative as some of these tanks were they overstated the fact. One after another they paraded down the runway. Some had cleverly attached asymmetric hems with bits of mystery peeking out below the hem. One dress, a baby doll of sorts was reminiscent of Geoffrey Beene, but that was as far as they strayed.I just didn't see what the point was.

A scuba theme was lost on me.Perhaps it was the prints which resembles the surfaces of coral and the skins of tropical fish. Sexy long sleeved tees over skirts and pants, I imagine were the illustration of this idea. I have to return to the fabrics, though. The colors and prints were a departure and were really eye catching. With their resources and considerable financing behind them I expected there would be more of a bravura line up of looks. I didn't see it.

Having just won the CFDA award for best Accessories wasn't reflected the other day, either. There wasn't a shoe or bag or belt that showed their prowess at supremacy in that field.There were basically two shoe styles done in different colors and 2 or 3 bags in a few different colors to compliment the looks they accompanied. This should have been a major show for them. The mini-film on their presentation of last season was surely inspiration to pull out all the stops and claim their place in the majors. If anything it felt as though they sat back instead of rising to the occasion.

The models were strangely bedraggled and spent looking. It takes a serious effort to make Carmen Kass look beaten and bored. She was still a little better looking than some of the other girls whose hair looked like it had fallen out between arriving backstage and hitting the catwalk.
Why the red rimmed eyes? The "party til you drop" look is not pretty and certainly not modern.There was one tank dress with an interesting drape at the neck that elevated it to Tank dress as High Art. There is a downtown cool to the collection but it's not one that truly separates them from other collections that play the hipster card.

Other than a tank or two and a couple of repetitive tee shirts over a skirts, the statement was made. These guys have ideas and something to offer, but their voices are muted behind the cacophonous hype that drowns their every step.

I'm still waiting.

Marc Jacobs: What is it I'm not getting?

When it comes to Marc Jacobs I feel depressingly out of step. Am I just stubborn and blind? Am I willfully sticking to a gun filled with blanks? Maybe like Anna Wintour says in The September Issue, I'm just part of that pack that denigrates fashion and its Stars because I'm not a member of the club, putting down those ones who are. Maybe so, maybe not. I've never been good at club membership and tend to shy away from them. I step to the side .

Watching this whole week of shows and the members take their places and strike their poses is a reminder that I'm still off to the side. It's where I'm most comfortable. To pretend otherwise would be a lie and I'm too old and seen too much towaste time fooling myself or anyone else.

Marc Jacobs collection for Spring strikes me very much like so many of his collections in the past.There are a barrage of ideas, references and such a profusion of styling that it's hard to grab a hold of what I'm seeing to make sense of it. There are several elements to this complex symphony that are tantalizing, even hypnotic. Beautifully cut coats and artfully draped dresses awash with detail. Ruffles that are so amusing, fashion that made me smile and laugh in a raucous, joyful way. Even simple confections that were like mere tinklings from a child's toy piano were magical. The sophistication and audaciously unapologetic presentation set it apart from everything I've seen. So why does it still escape me? I guess as much as I'd like to be, I'm just not that cool.

Seen separately there are many ideas that are creative and modern. Though steeped in the past with many reminders of the masters of only 20 years ago, Marc's vision feels jumbled and chaotic. There are certainly a plethora of ideas to fill the racks of so many hungry, desperate stores. I fear the customer will be left to her own devices. Perhaps it is a collection that is perfect for these times. You can buy one of these or one of those and not feel you have to have it all. Only the show was designed and built for us to take in the complete performance from its overture, through each movement and the final crescendo. It was all so much, so many instruments crowding the stage and so loud that I had trouble focusing. The pictures I've chosen are the looks I liked best. Jacobs has an amazing team he conducts and the collection is crammed with ideas. I just don't quite see the brilliance in it. If you send out everything you can think of and style it so nothing is left out something is sure to stick.

I will say this, he has a huge arsenal of ideas and fortunately a very powerful machine to fuel them. Perhaps that's good enough. It doesn't get much better than that for a designer, I would just like to come away from his show blown away instead of blown to bits.