Tuesday, 21 January 2014

It's a tweed-ranglin' hoedown

The reason I started this blog in the first place was to have an honest opinion on the fashion world. One that was unbiased and uncomplicated by advertisers and celebrity. That and I was probably on my rags and this was an outlet for my rage that would allow me to stave off the usual monthly cycle of 3 days spent shouting/sobbing/shouting into an open fridge (but I mean really, no chocolate? None? That's bullshit, that's what that is). But mostly the former. (I forgot what the former was, I'm still angry at my fridge). Second reason I started this blog was to speak openly and without inhibition on how much Karl Lagerfeld sucks. You might think 'sucks' is too weak a word for such a man, but according to 6 year olds today the 'su' word is a profanity up there with the likes of 'F', 'C' and 'Sh'. So, with all my hormonally charged anger I give you:

Largs: a Pre-Fall '14 Sucky installment:

Cow boy boots. As stockings. Yeah, that's practical. As is cream on a Texan Ranch. 

When it comes to politically correct designing it's Cowboy OR Indian, Karl. Not both. 

In the wise words of Karen Walker (fag hag not designer): "That blouse hurts like a hangover." So does your blazer, skirt, bag and boots. 

Tampon chic. 

What reptile died to make this? 

This collection was 95 looks long. Ninety. Five. Long. 
Karl, I want the past 15 minutes of my life back. 


Credits: Style.com

Saturday, 21 July 2012

Tweedle Dum

I'm just going to come out and say what you're not meant to say: I don't think Karl Lagerfeld should be designing for Chanel anymore. There. I said it. Don't tell me you weren't thinking it because you were I know you were don't tell me you weren't you'd be lying. And don't do that, not here, in the home of the young and the cynical. It's obvious why none of the magazines say it, Vogue can't rip into Chazza when their biggest income is advertising from the aforementioned. But I can, for I am brave (and also because no one pays me. If anyone wants to start I am absolutely cool with selling out for a nice cash/cheque/free merchandise. I can love Lagerfeld, I could learn to love Marc Jacob's destruction of the hat. Hell I could even love Michael Kors. For money, I would do that. I would). I am brave and I am free.

Anyway, I'm over it. Chanel used to mean something, man. It used to be a house of repose, of grace and style.. ok I jest I would never talk like that but there is a certain reputation that one feels obliged to believe in when It comes to Chanel. Unfortunately no more. Yeah, any designer working for a long withstanding house needs to oblige to traditions and aesthetics, but seriously. Dudes. Karl. Buddy. Stop with the Tweed. I know it was rockin' in Coco's time but enough is enough. I think if I see one more tweed suit by you I'm going to go and set fire to a flock of sheep. Too far? I once would have agreed with you but now I'm not so sure. I'm in a very hateful place at the moment. A place that must be similar to Lagerfeld's uncreative one (another terrible bridge, sorry). If it's not tweed, it's ugly. And if it's not ugly, it's boring. And when he really puts his genius to work, it's all three PLUS bad accessories. Pearl warts? Nose chains? Dreads?? REALLY MAN DREADS. I do know dreads aren't accessories but given they'd all be fake hair I think you can reach my point with out too much effort. Just do it for me.

Every season I put on my best LBD, sport my finest bobbed wig, channel my finest Chanel memories and pray that maybe, just maybe, he'll pull through and give me something to clutch my pearls over. But every season I'm led to sigh and throw my faux hair to the ground and melodramatically fling myself onto a daybed. I have held hopeful hopes for too long, and I'm afraid, dear Karl, your time is up. I welcome you, readers, to tour the Chanel failings over the most recent seasonal disappointments.

A Reverse Visual Chronology of How and Why Lagerfeld Can't Design Anymore:

Fall 2012 Couture:

Ok it's not tweed but what is this? No really, what is this? I'm so over feathers. I've been over feathers since Carrie wore that stupid feather tailed skirt on SATC. Yes, I can find my way back to Sex and the City from anywhere. Turnips? Turnips are an unfortunately shaped vegetable that often get made into vegetable soups, sometimes these soups are cold, Samantha goes to a cold food restaurant in order to fuck the waiter BAM turnips are Sex and the City relevant. Still doesn't make this dress aesthetically relevant. Or nice.

Resort 2013:
His stance is saying 'Laddieessss' and the laddieessss are saying 'In those shoes...?'

Kinda missed the peplum digs, Karl. This is a little 3 year old at a 3 year old party where the theme was 3 year olds. 

Did you hear that? A shrill "Let them eat cake" on the wind? Oh sorry, that was just Frances-Louise, the Marie Antoinette themed drag queen. 

Couture Spring 2012:
Too boring to bother noting. 

Fall Ready To Wear 2012:

And just in case you wanted to mix up that tweed suit you can add some tweed pants. Truly ingenious tweedery, Karl.

Just sayin'. 

Pre-Fall 2012
Don't worry guys, stress less, when you go to India, Karl's gotcha covered on the tweed front. 

Loves me a man turban. And a man who only wears white suits. Super practical. 

Why the tie, Karl? What's its purpose? Does it have one? Because I feel like you're pushing your own perverse tie agenda on these poor models. But Karl, they just don't deserve it, please, leave the poor girls alone. It's bad enough they have to get tweed chaffe.. don't put them in hideous bejangled neck-nooses.

I'm all out of criticism. It feels good to get that off my chest. I feel light. I could even wear tweed. 


All: Style.com  

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Bride Wars

As the weather turns and the days becoming darker, the nights cold and days drizzle endlessly, there is one thing that I can't help but be inspired to aspire to (that was fun wasn't it- now let's say it together 10 times really quick... ha you actually started doing it didn't you. Dumbass). Being the edge of winter, a time that no one ever thinks about getting married, I of course like to be the social contradiction and think of nothing but. Well, that's a mild exaggeration, I think of plenty of other things but take heed friends- this bitch is prowling. Prowling for lurve. Yeah, I went to that place. The sleazy 70's man who considers himself somewhat of a casanova (not at all- in reality) place. It's a place I frequent, you should come visit sometime, there's a great little bed and breakfast...
Anyway I want to get married dudes. I want to get married at like, 23, and have some disturbed love child who'll be raised by my baby-daddy and 2 lovers (sexual orientation and/or gender undecided). This is my future. I have to have a fantastical future as my reality will probably be quite different (I'll end up married to a banker. Or worse. A poor person) and therefore I need to live out my romantic non-life on the internet for strangers to read and not really give a shit about. I love that about you guys. I particularly love the amount of people who leave me comments saying how "super cute" the outfits by say, Michael Kors are, making it obvious that they never read my blog because duh- Michael Kors sucks. So this tangent has gone so far left field I need to lure it back to a place called home with a bad transitory sentence: Those peeps who don't read my blog sure AREN'T gonna get a marriage proposal from me. And we're back. Marriage. I'm going to stop writing about absolutely nothing and get on with the point of this post.
I haven't had any propositions of the marital kind in a good couple of months, I know, it shocks me too, so I've decided to get the ball rolling, plant the seed of thought into the minds of my courters (Inception style- this is a dream inside a dream type sitch doods, strap yourself in, Leo's coming WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT) and with that hopefully tease out some kind of romantic future for myself.

What does this have to do with fashion? Well just ask yourself why anyone gets married and you'll get the answer. Or why anyone watched the Sex and The City movie (other than because it's fabulous). The dress. So, in E True Hollywood style (makes me feel like you read this because I'm of celebrity status), here is my aptly named and completely unnecessarily long in title list of:
'Top Ten Most Ridiculous Wedding Dresses I'll Pay Out for Hypothetically Wearing If Money and Availability was Not an Issue' 
Which it won't be. I'm marrying one of the Packer's. 15 Mill. wedding on the French Riviera? Ah yus I am.  

His wedding ring says no but his eyes say yes yes yes. 

Top Ten Most Ridiculous Wedding Dresses I'd Pay Out for Hypothetically Wearing If Money and Availability was Not an Issue: 

10. The Not Really Appropriately Dressed Bride:
Versace Spring '10 RTW
This isn't really a bridal gown. This isn't really a gown. Hell, this isn't even really a dress. But If my soon-to-be husband was having any doubts about marrying me this minxer would quell them. Also good for if I was wanting to start a lil' summin' on the side with the best man. 

9. The Teen Angst, WTF Ever I Don't Even Care Bride:
Proenza Schouler Spring '10 RTW
You know those days when you're getting married, but you're just not into it, your hairs kinda limp, nothing is looking good, really CBF- well this is the perfect dress. Really tells your life partner that you know what? I just don't care that much about you or anything else. Now's the time that he figures out you're a complete nihilist and you should probably tell him about the portrait of Nietzsche tattooed on your ass from the hen's party. 

8. The Thought It Was a Good Idea In the Store, Damn That Chick Was A Good Saleswoman, But Now You're Just Not Wearing Any Pants Bride:
D&G Fall '12 RTW
So you were in D&G, you had one of those overzealous, probably working on commission sale assistants who talked you into feeling like everything you put on was making you look so fierce and empowered that you may as well be Naomi Campbell and you strut out of the store with full bags and a full smile. Then you get home and the lighting isn't so good, you've got a less forgiving mirror, turns out it was just a trick of your eyes and yes your upper thighs aren't really cellulite free but now it's too late and you've got a frieken floral body suite and pantaloons to wear to your wedding.

7. The Thought You Looked Pre-Raphaelean But Was More An Extra In a Period Frock Drama With Keira Knightley and No, You Didn't Get Colin Firth in the End Bride 
Oscar De La Renta Spring Bridal 2013
This really didn't work out the way you thought it would. You can see where it was meant to go, you were thinking something nymph like, a little Midsummer Night's Dream, Preferably Hermia because no one likes Helena sober, but in the end you look more like a sad new age mum who sends her kids to Montessori schools and only wears crushed velvet. 

6. The Bad Choice in Dress So Overcompensated With Make-Up Bride:
Alexander McQueen Spring 2007 RTW
 Thiiiiiis wasn't the best choice of... anything. That dress is pretty in theory, sure. On a model, sure. But you can't carry purple clouds on your feet. And the colouring is just making you looking all heppy-B. Makeup didn't help. Fake tan didn't help. You're a lost cause, I really hope your husband loves you. 

5. The Back The Fuck Up And Stop Undressing My Man With Your Eyes Bride
Givenchy Spring '11 Couture 
You did good, kid. You successfully scared off every ex-girlfriend of your Fiance who were invited to the wedding when you sent out a mass email of your headdress. Very Genghis Kahn come Viking chic. And softening with the feathers? Nice touch. Those husband thieving bitches won't see that ab stab coming. Because that's what they were doing when they congratulated the two of you, trying to get in your man's pants. "I'm so happy for you" was actually "Your ass looks damn fine let's get it on while this crazy helmed freak is finding her bra". Cos yeah, you forgot to wear one. Just sayin'. 

4. The Amy Winehouse Tribute Bride
Jean Paul Gaultier sPring '12 Couture
The dress was gorgeous. Even the hair and makeup was a casual nod to the late Winehouse, not over the top, very tasteful. But could you have served something other than whisky on the rocks? And the frequent trips to the bathroom... really? Not subtle, man. Not. Subtle. 

3.  The Not Quite There But Culturally Aware Bride
Vivienne Westwood Fall '12 RTW
When your fiance asked if you could feature his Scottish heritage somewhere in the wedding I think he meant a floral table piece or maybe some bagpipes... Not platform sandals. And his granddad wants his cap back. Stop stealing from the elderly you crazy bride. 

2. Questioning Her Sanity, Might Need To Be Committed Bride:
Alexis Mabille Spring '12 Couture
Good lord woman. What the hell are you doing? Unless you start singing opera a la the diva from the 5th Element you're just not doing marriage right. Your husband will leave you. You make no sense. 

And coming in at number one on the Young and the Cynical 'Top Ten Most Ridiculous Wedding Dresses I'd Pay Out for Hypothetically Wearing If Money and Availability was Not an Issue'

1. The Mildly Schizophrenic Anorexic Ballerina Bride
Alexander McQueen '09 RTW
We all loved Black Swan. We all secretly wanted to be Keira Knightly with her lesbian antics and hallucinations but girl, YOU WENT TOO FAR. You did it wrong. You look like a sad clown that got eaten by a goose. 

I don't think I want to get married anymore. 

Just jokes James, I still want your money. 

Creds: fashionologie.com, style.com

Tuesday, 10 April 2012

Garish Garlands and Fluorescent Floss

Sometimes what I like to do is disappear out of a person's life until they've forgotten absolutely anything memorable about me and then jump back in with such vigour and crazed enthusiasm that they never want to see me again. So, If I haven't finally killed off the stragglers that are my dwindling readership, I feel I may have successfully done so now. If anyone is still on board I commend you and if you have a European passport we should get married. If you don't then I could probably do better so forget about it. Just forget about it.

And now you ask, bleary eyed, why have I disappointed you so? Why did I leave? No note, no goodbye? Well with 3 jobs and full time uni I think you'd be disappointing me too so perhaps we'll step back out of the attitude suit and try a little understanding and forgiveness, huh kids? What's more important is that I, like every wayward mother, has come back to her tribe (definitely calling my family a 'tribe'). And without anymore delayed gratification I will bring you what your little hearts have been craving- a young and cynical post.

So recently I've been feeling the call of the wild. If by wild you mean completely unnatural, manufactured and inorganic then yes, that call has been heard. I am, of course (yeah..right..) talking about fluorescent colour schemes, or as the kids like to call it, 'fluro-eccy-fun-time' or 'fluro' for short (everyone knows that's what fluro is really short for). Now I know this isn't exactly a new trend, we all remember the not long enough ago stint of classy young lasses attending sophisticated outdoor soirees known as 'festivals', wearing denim underwear with hot 'fluro' pink bandeaus (whatever the fuck they are NOT TOPS LADIES unless you're Prada in which case rock on with the bandeau tops you amaze me) and ingesting certain energetic supplements with names like 'dragon speed' and 'pink firebolt'. As this was such a memorable and indeed proud moment in my generations history I feel I should give a nod to circa 2007 with a 'fluro' tribute post.

Of course, I'm aware this has been in that big ol' fashion world for a while now but I refused to be a part of it for quite some time. It is only now, when it is most likely on it's way out, that I have decided to lap up the dregs of the fluro jet ski (I say jet ski because I reckon it'd be a lot faster than a train and honestly, how long does fluro ever stay in fashion for anyway?). I remember my attention first being turned to fluroescent trending when my dad had a whole table of fluro gear ready to be shot and I complained to the stylist about how horrible it was and she looked like she wanted to boot my sorry ass out of the studio but of course she couldn't do that because she was working with my dad long story short I didn't like it BUT NOW dear readers OH NOW I am a born again fluro, a lover of the floz. Schlang me an obnoxious pink or sickly yellow and I'll hit you with a thumbs up and maybe even a kowabunga hand shake. And I won't leave it there, oh no, anything neon, bright, garish or offensive is now my cup of joe. The bigger the print the better, I've welcomed with open arms the sentimental, patriotic and nostalgia of Prada and D&G, dreamed of umbrella sporting cocktails with Stella McCartney and Mary Katrantzou and any kind of hot coloured pant/skirt/top/hair/sock has been turning any frown of mine upside down. Was that the lamest sentence you've ever read? Possibly, but what can I say, there is something about these horrible eyesores that makes my heart giddy-up and my vocabulary become a dad-joke inspired place of optimistic joy.

Cambridge Satchel Company The Fluro £105.00

Proenza Schouler Printed Canvas bag £578.60

Venessa Arizaga £392.44

Marc by Marc Jacobs £310.97

River Island from Asos $24.33

Fairground from Asos skirt: $89.21 and top: $68.12

Mary Katrantzou Spring 2012 RTW

Prada Spring 2012 RTW

Michael Kors Resort 2012

And of course, D&G:

Spring 2012 RTW

Who have also done one of the best add campaigns I've seen in a long time. Excluding of course anything for Prada but we all know how I feel about Prada. I think I'll make a blog purely for rating Prada against itself. No one loses in that competition.

D&G Spring 2012 campaign

This makes me want to be a spunky Italian mother who looks shockingly similar in age to her spunky Italian daughter. This, of course, being my reality when I have a child. We'll get mistaken for sisters while we rock around in our matching tomato and eggplant print skirts. Gonna be excellent my friends, can't wait to be a mother. Nor can I wait to be able to afford D&G. Yeah, that's more like it. 


Credits: net-a-porter.com, style.com, fashionologie.com, asos.com, 

Saturday, 10 March 2012

You be my king, I'll be your McQueen

I've had mixed responses to Sarah Burton's taking over at Alexander McQueen. My best friend, who adored him (pretty sure tears were shed when he died. I've only ever cried about one celebrity and that was when Millsy got booted off Australian Idol and yes I believe this was totally justified crying), doesn't seem to be making the transition into a new head designer too well. It's kind of like having your parents re-marry and having to share your things with a new step sibling. Actually, it's nothing like that at all. But you get my drift (you really don't). Personally, I think Burton is doing a brilliant job. There was never going to be another McQueen. He created clothing that would sway the beliefs of anyone who took the 'fashion is not art' stance. His clothing was conceptual. For me, it was emotional reading about his vision (sorry for the wank talk). So no, no one was ever going to be the new Alexander McQueen. Those jeweled, hoofed shoes would never, ever be filled.

But if someone had to, I think Sarah Burton was the woman to try. And try she has. Try she continues to do. Try she succeeds (doesn't make sense as a sentence you say? Get off my blog is my rebuttal). And I also think it was fantastic that McQueen is having his name honoured by a woman. She brings to the house a feminine quality that although not completely foreign to the father, is lighter- but still with the same depth and dignity that McQueen had, just perhaps not as dark and foreboding as his designs were. She still carries the essence, the atmospheric quality of Alexander McQueen clothing, but with a touch of her own. I love it.

Fall 2012 RTW
Just watch how how the fabrics move. Who thinks up this shit? To be in her brain for just like, a minute. I bet she's inspired even when she's buying toilet paper. Bitch. 

The women walking down the runway in this collection looked like amazing human/exotic bird/flower cross breeds created in a UFO laboratory by highly intelligent and beautiful aliens who thought we were too ugly to continue living the way we were. I'm thinking like something out of the 5th Element. Not something out of Star Wars. The furs and the fabrics and the concealed faces through visors resembling a sort of really unhelpful space helmut used purely for aesthetic purposes and not for generating oxygen or space gas or whatever these ali-babes breath. 

Only at Alexander McQueen could trumpeted duster hands be made into a thing of beauty. I mean, if you cast your minds back to the attempts made by a certain Italian designer (Frankie Morello) and the orange atrocities swinging off his girls arms you get where I'm coming from with the ugly cleaning facilities attached to the forearm reference. Not attractive. Unless you're this girl. Then you've gone beyond sex into a whole new realm of  desire. Where did my train of thought go...

In theory this outfit would never, ever, EVER be deemed sexy. In a McQueen reality, in other words not a reality you or I will ever be a part of, a pink and red ill-fitted, awkwardly mid-calf-lengthed, off the shoulder flower arrangement dress with Elmo's family bringing up the rear would always be 100% ugly. Not at McQueen. Burton has made something I want to be wearing when I get accepted into heaven. A promiscuous, homosexually accepting heaven. A heaven that doesn't exist. 

These dresses (couture dudes.. not by any means ready to wear that shit) actually make the women look like flowers. And I have absolutely no idea what they're made out of. What the frick. Being told I was a muse to someone who created something like that would be both the best and worst compliment in the world. On the one had I've inspired something completely otherworldly and organically unnatural and on the other It's more or less saying that, in essence, I resemble a genetically modified sea anemone. Still, I'd take it. 

Creds: Style.com

Thursday, 1 March 2012


Milan, Milan you're a hell of a town.. yeah look, I know I'm repeating myself but I don't know any songs about Milan so we'll have to be resourceful aight? Aight. Milan FW is a very exciting and emotional time for me. But, like majority of this Fall's collections, I have been let down. At least this time I was let down with humour more than disappointment (see previous post about Blumarine.. blerghvom). There were also some stunners amongst the shocks, but in my usual fashion (enjoying pessimism too much) I'll go through the worst and leave you with a smize for the finale. Everyone loves a good Tyra Smize.*

*Smizing: An action coined by Tyra Bank's on America's Next Top Model meaning to smile with one's eyes.  

Morello's Army:
(Frankie Morello A/W '12)
In a collection so adorned with studs, spikes, whips and tassels one can only assume Morello was preparing for an all out fashion war. A war against taste. Some of the girls are even wearing knee pads over their totally bad ass fish nets. Because that's what it means when you're wearing fish nets: that you're bad ass. It's dress decoding 101. 

For when you want to take a stroll through ghetto and are scared of getting shanked. You wear a bodycon suit of armour. Totally wearer friendly, don't worry. Like those shoes, which I like to call 'The Infertiliators'. Think about what would be hit if you got kicked by those fearless muthas. You'll get to my point eventually. 

Safety first doods, don't hate the playa. 

Don't get drunk in this outfit. That skirt is so short you will puncture your ass on your heels when you pop a squat to take a pee behind a bush or, for the classy ladies, when you booty drop trying to impress that mohawked bartender. Those shoes are fierce in a way that makes me fear there is no God. 

"Excuse me miss, you've got a dead something on your.. oh.. oh that's a skirt.. I'm sorry miss.. I'm sorry, don't give me that look.. DON'T KICK ME.. NOT THERE! OH GOD!!!"
True story. 

Finally. The goods.
Moschino Fall '12 RTW
This collection (finally! Thank you Moschino, good lord thank you!) actually made me squirm. In bed. By myself. Some of the ensembles were just so spot on perfect I literally made a weird little noise and wriggled. Another reason why I may not have a boyfriend, they get upstaged by an outfit on a regular basis. But in all seriousness, (not that that wasn't a serious comment, it really, really was) Rossella Jardini built a collection with themes that seemed to tour the world and colours and styles you'd normally be bored by, all of this sounding like she pulled a BM (that's a Blumarine, now my term for anything generally terrible) but instead the clothing seemed to lift inspiration from Spanish bull fighter marching band (that's not all that new for Moschino, but still fun), US Southern belle's, and French 60's fashionistas along with a colour palette that was safe, but spot on of black with red, blue, yellow. The tayloring and fabric choices were those buttery thick, lush ones that make you froth a little and know that whoever wore them would instantly be transformed into some kind of chic goddess it girl.. thing. Anyway that's enough rambling, let's go rodeo. 

Move over Morello, this is what real badass looks like. These girls should make up a gang in a Tarantino film where they drive around in fast cars and have witty and amusing conversations for 2 hours. Someone gets a lapdance. You know, a Tarantino movie.  

These babes would be the rival fem posse that eventually get killed off due to Tarantino's dislike of overly feminine women. They went down fighting though, don't worry guys. 

You'd think an electric blue satin and ostrich feathered drop hem prom dress would repel me to my core. But it doesn't. The bling to atrocious ratio is just perfect. I want this in my utility belt stat. 

If you came up to me, handed me this outfit, and said "go forth and prosper Lucius" I would do it. I would go forth, and prosper, in stripes. 

And just for shits and giggles: an ostrich feather helmut. I wish I saw this in the flesh. Gawwwddddd what I'd do to be flown around the world for the fashion weeks.. rich husband, baby, where are you? 

Not Marni's best but still a good effort. Where the prints at Marns? I missed them, and you're so good at them... follow your bliss Marni, follow your bliss. 

I'm not not a huge lover of the Guch. Or the Hooch. Dark, again, because obviously being fall and all the world must retreat into a deep reflective state of being that colour, god forbid you wear it, would distract from. This is where Gucci comes in with a collection that almost inspired me to pick up an opium habit, hop into my nearest den and start subtly, yet inappropriately, touching people in decadent robes and furs. 

Max Mara
What annoyed me about this collection was how boring it was. Why be boring when you can be interesting, I always say. One might even say it's my catch phrase. It'd probably be something more along the lines of 'boring people should be shot' but that's a little too should-be-committed crazy so we'll forget I said anything. 
 I did enjoy how reminiscent of a Clockwork Orange they were. Perhaps 'A Clockwork Orange 2: Shanty tales'. But maybe this is something I shouldn't bring up after my last statement.. 

Dolce & Gabbana
Beautifully luxurious and dainty all in one. The pieces in this show demanded a sense of reverence, yet had a peek-a-boo quality in the sheer and mildly sexual lace. Lace can always be a little sexual, can't it? That's what I love about it, both innocent and provocative all in one. As well the accessories which I'd say were more human decorations than anything were over the top and fabulous. But similar to something we have seen before... As my friend brought to my attention recently, as soon as Miuccia Prada trends something, everyone else soon follows suit. D&G inclusive. She is the messiah of fashion trending.

You would never swim in these but you would definitely casually lie around leisure pools after working out for two weeks and let people take photos of you as if you were born that way. You'd definitely do that in these. 

What did I tells ya? This screams Miu Miu people. MIU MIU (that was the outfit screaming).

After hearing the banshees call, Prada announced itself. In a collection that was by no means her best, Miuccia still trumps in the fashion world. A little too subdued for my Prada taste, I couldn't see the reason for restraint. But then again, I never can. This is why I hate so much of what other people design. C'est la vie (why did I just write that..). The tailoring- masculine not unlike her men's collection(and how good was that dayummmm Adrien B), featured patterns and colours that sometimes felt as if you were in a Wes Anderson movie having lunch with Adrien Brodie (she's onto something) and Bill Murray (wouldn't that just be the best lunch in the world? Laugh at Murray over finger food and for dessert have sex with Brodie. Amazing). At other times it was more like staring at a psychotrip poster in the bedroom of a teenager in the 60's. That's what Miuccia does though. She references everything from everywhere and yet still has a style so specific to now It makes me question why other designers even bother. Really though, why even bother? She's always going to be better than you.

Oh and Missoni, we found your prints. Please pick them up and use them in your sad excuse for a collection (not featured. Too sad).  

That is all. 

Creds: fashionising.com, style.com