LV Spring 2008 Ready-to-Wear

Louis Vuitton's spring 2008 bags seemed to parade themselves down the runway; the odels dressed in identical Nurse-Rachet-Sexy chiffon were mere accessories to the hand-splashed, painted purses reminiscent of late-nineties' street art with a high-glam gloss. Spring separates turned the models into tulle-draped bonbons in various states of delicious unwrap; clothes and scarves draped in a manner as to draw the eye to the models' right hands, which held the all-important bags. Geometric stripes on skirts and boxy tops reminded the viewer that Marc Jacobs' retro-loving hand was behind it all, but the high-gloss of sequins and satin on shoes and skirts left no doubt that the luxe was pure LV. This spring's ready-to-wear collection takes a whimsical turn away from the stiff pastel ruffles of previous years' collections; perhaps yet another sign of Jacobs' re-creation of himself as a designer, and as a person.

Stella McCartney for Adidas

Amidst a flurry of tiny bowls of vegetarian risotto (Stella's a vegan, and doesn't use any animal products in any of her clothing lines) and tons of free champagne that nobody was drinking (except me. Hey, who cares if it's noon? It's FREE!), models wandered through the palatial conference center at Buenos Aires' hipodromo (racetrack) in muted-colored yoga clothes. The best of the beautiful fashion-media world was in attendance (though I didn't know who any of them were, until my Argentine photographer pointed out who edited which women's magazine, which actress was known for stealing which polo player away from his wife, etc.).

The fashion show was an acrobatics exhibit, models jogging and stretching through a nature-inspired backdrop (screens with trees and water projected on them, and a treadmill hidden inside some fake grass--it was cooler than it sounds) went through a full range of movement to show that the clothes can actually be sported-in. I'm sure I'm kind of behind the times because I actually didn't know that sport clothes could look cool...I usually work out in ratty yoga pants and whatever stretched-out t-shirt that is too old for daytime use.

The show ended with three girls doing some sped-up sun salutations and balancing poses (and the schwag was a white yoga mat with a canvas strap). Kind of made me wish I'd skipped the champagne so I could go home and do some downward-dogging. Instead, I went shopping.

So Hem So Hot

And by So Hem I mean SOuthern HEMisphere, of course. Australian fashion week's just finished and while I haven't yet been to that continent, the buzz from Sass & Bide's show is loud enough to reach Buenos Aires. Here's the item that everyone's talking about:


They're "Black Rats," the ultimate skinny-jeans-meets-leggings. It's the current evolution of the skinny jean. I mean, really, how skinny can you go? This has got to be the last step before the fashion pendulum swings the other direction and mega-flares come back.


These are FEROSH! High-glam rocker all the way. And of course you've got to be a sample size to wear them (ie, NOT ME), but nobody said heroin chic is easy to attain.

They're not available on Sass & Bide's website yet, but I bet they'll sell out faster than a Tickle Me Elmo. After all, leggings are the new black.

Mixed Match

Remember that show from the '90s, Clarissa Explains it All?

Clarissa, played by a now-boring, non-vajayjay baring Melissa Joan Hart, is blond and sassy and her parents pretty much leave her alone except to offer her sage advice when she gets stuck. She’s also got a wardrobe that exemplifies everything terrible about the early ‘90s: clashing colors, contrasting patterns, a total jumble that a first-job stylist must have put together, probably bitter that she was working for Nickelodeon and not MTV.

I’ve got my best Clarissa interpretation on today: I’ve combined a skirt and sweater I’ve never worn together before, and I’m feeling goood. I can’t remember who gave me the rough, off-the-shoulder, green and white striped sweatshirt, but it makes me feel pretty sophisticated (probably because it’s a cast-off from one of my mom’s hairdresser friends, because at 9 years old, I’m already tall enough to wear adult clothes). The skirt is my favorite, with not one, not two, but THREE ruffles of stonewashed blue denim cascading from a pale-pink, v-front panel of polka-dotted canvas.

P.E. is first, and as we walk around the track for a mile, two girls with big bangs scuff up dust with their feet as they pass me. They’re carrying on a conversation and they don’t notice me as I bend over to tie my red L.A. Gears.

“Stripes with polka dots?” one of them says to the other. “Doesn’t she know any better?” It’s not until I’m confronted with points and giggles at the lunch table that I realize the girls had been talking about me.

For some reason, this memory flashes through my head as I’m backstage at Buenos Aires Fashion Week, scoping the models’ personal style. There’s a tall, skinny girl smoking a cigarette (there’s no indoor smoking ban in Argentina...yet) by herself in the corner, and two models are giggling with their heads together in the makeup chairs. I photograph the solo model, noting her crazy scarf, Wellingtons and a leopard-print hoodie framing her runway-ready face. She looks bored, and is dressed very differently from the crop of shorts and oversized-sweater-wearing models that flock in a group from the soda machine to the ashtrays to the makeup chairs.

Pulling off contrasting patterns is a hard look to rock, but she’s doing it and I bet she could care less what the girls in with their heads together are saying. That’s her secret (and it was probably Clarissa’s secret, too)--not caring about the peanut gallery when you’re rocking your own style. The problem with my stripes-and-dots combo was that it wasn’t my own, and it was apparent.

Syncophant on Rye: When to Stop Thanking Your Server

Seems like the good folks over at Chow.com heard that I was a terrific waitress. They've ocassionally consulted me about some "server point-of-view" questions. Here's one...