Let’s hear it for the Lions is the theme of Dutch designer Liselore Frowijn’s collection for fall 2016. Art has been an important source of inspiration in het work and for this collection Liselore Frowijn would like to give a big shout out to all feminine artists making a change and showing a different perspective. The collection is an homage to all strong women who are living or have been living in this world, with Niki de St. Phalle as a muse. The beautiful round volumes this artist created with her Nana’s together with the energetic and edgy approach the women Frowijn admires have towards life formed an inspiration to this collection.
The Burberry-collection for fall is a polished, high-shine medley of some of Christopher Bailey’s passions: military tailoring, the Mitford sisters, the Bloomsbury Group and some of his favorite art and music.
Bailey mixed masculine military overcoats with a battalion of glittering dresses. They came short with flippy pleated skirts; quilted or textured to resemble lightweight tapestries, or long with fluttery sleeves in a nod to the bohemians of Bloomsbury.
The designer also worked with lamé, Lurex and real metal yarns to give his silhouettes an insectlike iridescence. Sometimes, shine came from crystal embellishment and sequins, as in a cluster of minidresses that shone with a magnified flower pattern.
Outerwear — when it wasn’t doing military duty — came in materials such as bright green python, blanket plaid, technical down, high-shine leather and with details such as oversize toggles and fur.
For her fall collection, Mary Katrantzou translated her inspiration (an early commitment to American ’50s Western styling) into a collection of colorful and sparkly cowgirl clothes. Models tread an aluminum-foil runway in boxy rodeo jackets, shirtdresses and sheer dresses, all plastered with appliquéd hearts, stars and flames. The designer made a good case for a tooled leather pencil skirt, and the slightly pervy blouse — a sheer black polka-dot one, and a chestnut ciré silk yoked version — all of them “off” enough to be cool. At the end, there was a finale of extravagant dresses in tulle, several of which could find their way to the Oscars. But actually, it was the simple shirtdresses with manically jeweled panels on the front that came out as the winners.
Garteh Pugh sent out a strong message with his fall-collection: women are in charge. The powerful show was hinged on demonstrative, strong-shouldered tailoring with tinges of Thierry Mugler and Claude Montana.
It’s been a while since skirt suits stalked a European runway, and Pugh’s were streamlined and compelling, whether in camel, prince of wales check or an electric blue wool covered with embroidered stars.
Flaring pants were another key element in this ode to Eighties power dressing. They anchored a bounty of terrific coats: mannish and military ones with big gold buttons; cozy wrap numbers with built-in shawls; and dramatically flaring swing styles with cape effects.
Runway gimmicks included Hannibal Lecter masks and briefcases handcuffed to wrists, adding a disquieting frisson to what Pugh called an exploration of “the visual codes of raw female ambition.”
Here was another transporting and hyper-feminine collection from Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen. Dreamy gauzy dresses in knits as fine as cobwebs; tuberose flowers hand-painted on leather coats and corsets, and feathered skirts made of ostrich plumes that had been lacquered to give them a brooding aspect. The designer decorated her clothes and accessories with talismans and surreal symbols, including pocket watches, butterflies, horseshoes, lips and eyes.
The show opened with mannish tailored coats with an extra lapel dripping, as if in a Dalí painting, over the shoulder, forming an offbeat sash.
By contrast, the frothy dresses, ruffles spilling off of shoulders or peeling off the body to reveal lace bras and camisoles, were striking in their delicacy. The show climaxed with tulle gowns and capes gleaming with shooting stars or silvery moons — and then two of the most elaborate bed jackets you will ever see, quilted like a duvet and covered with dense floral embroideries.
Marc Jacobs showed his extravaganza of fashion-noir on a stark white set to the sound of single chimed notes by Japanese musician Keiji Haino. Darkness ruled, but with an underlying sweetness. The models’ eyes and lips were black. The clothes were dark, wondrous, inventive, eccentric pilings of tweeds, furs, silks, and endless decoration, Victoriana meets Goth meets Biker Chic meets Varsity Chic meets Red Carpet meets Violet Incredible and countless other girls of Jacobs’ runways past. Cats, rats, cherubs and ballerinas got acquainted on prints, a giant raven took up residence on the back of a jacket and a lady named Gaga walked the show.
Program notes the Proenza Schouler collection cited American art of the Sixties and Seventies as an influence. The fall collection, the notes read, would explore “notions of control and release.” In terms of craft and the technical aspect of making clothes, that meant experimentation with cut and silhouette — when to hug the body, when to let loose with fabric, how to expose skin while avoiding vulgarity and cliché.
Two silhouettes anchored the lineup. Tailored looks featured long jackets, their shapeliness achieved via twisting of the fabrics and asymmetric closures, worn over low-slung, wide pants in fluid fabrics. Dresses kept close to the body on top, releasing into languid skirts. Either way, lacing figured prominently, for both decoration and function.
Micheal Kors’ show was all about function made special and chic — coats (and more coats), sweaters, pants and skirts. How everyday can it be? Kors opened with the basics — peacoat, white blouse, pullover and jeans, but the jeans happened to be feathered from the knees down. Camel made it onto the runway in a shawl-collared coat — a floral mink, worn over a sweater and cropped pant. Other coats got abundant fur collars or were cut in glistening floral brocades. An officer’s coat was sashed in mink. Another simple pleasure, knitted cashmere, came in a charcoal sweater-and-skirt duet that got the reality diva treatment with feathers. Kors kept his shapes from classic to retro.
The Mulleavy-sisters wanted to tell a San Francisco story for their fall Rodarte-show. Their collection was an ode to Art Nouveau romance inspired by music posters and the genre’s crafty, gypsy-nymph decoration and witchy fantasy.
Slim, tea-length dresses sectioned into collagelike panels of hand-beaded and hand-painted guipure lace with floral and bird accents were dreamy examples of the designers’ imaginative eveningwear with a homespun touch. Perhaps taking a cue from Scott McKenzie, these San Francisco nouveau fairies were sure to wear flowers in their hair. Other pretty dresses featured a single sleeve with bodices and skirts traced in pink, black and burgundy or pink ruffles.
The daydream was interrupted by clunky ruffled leather pieces (jackets, belts, gloves); garishly colored long-haired goat jackets, and boots that stretched up the calf in cutouts and brown ruffles.
Dutch designer Sander Lak was the talk of town yesterday in New York. His fresh and relaxed debut-collection – after working for years as headdesigner at Dries van Noten and – was a welcome change of style between all the heavy, furry and layered styff people had been watching over the past days. The name Sies Marjan is a combination of his parents’ given names. The Dries influence was notable, most obviously on his familiar use of color combinations: warm pastels offset by natural tones. The freshness was in the more urban, utilitarian hand.
Lak sent out a beautiful wispy silk floral mid-length dress with a twisted cutout detail at the bodice, followed by a cargo pant and tunic version. But it was the Impressionist-printed jacket and matching wrap skirt, adorned by a fur stole worn like a slouchy backpack, that set the tone.
A disheveled button-down shirt, with oversize trousers was next-generation chic. Lak also paired languid tiered knits or big imperfect-ruffled blouses with diaphanous skirts, and showed trench coats that hung from the models’ backs on halter straps. It was all very, very cool.
Our own fashiondictionary Stevie Wonder Collection Means: not good! Whenever you see a collection and you run out of words to describe how bad it was, you call it a Stevie Wonder Collection. It's just a nice way to say the collection sucks.