Feb 17, 2009

On the Marc: Strange Beauty at Marc Jacobs

Swirling paisley eyeshadow, highlighter-bright coats, Thierry Mugler sleeves—it was the 1980s en totale at Marc Jacobs last night.  

What I admire about Marc Jacobs:
1.  He's one of the few designers who can thrive in a corporate environment and send out a totally creative show within those confines.
2.  He's a total extremist whose shows vary drastically from season to season.
3.  He stirs the pot and gets people talking.

But what do I love most about him? He sees the beauty where others don't—like in a club kid with a beehive wearing a neon pink cape.

While some have turned back to the depression era or '70s era New York, and while others play it safe with clothes that are merely pretty, Jacobs went back to the '80s—a time when, as he told New York magazine, "creative people could afford to live in this city."

There's beauty in someone who makes the effort to look different. There's beauty in artifice. The New York Times' Cathy Horyn called the models bubbly dolls. I have to agree.

So that was the show. But there's more to the story. Before yesterday, the big conversation topic was whether or not you were invited to the show (the guest list was slashed by 1,000; there was no elaborate set and no after-party. Ah, budgets). Now the big topic is either "How I missed/almost missed Marc Jacobs" or "How I was smartly was on time."

I was on time.

I know I've discussed it before, but it's hard to explain how revolutionary it is for a fashion show to start on time.

I was at Ray's Pizza, across the street from the show venue, the Armory, with Susie "Bubble," London-blogger-turned-Dazed & Confused-digital-editor. I warned her that the show likely would start on time, so we threw away our greasy plates and walked over at 7:45 p.m. At 7:57, the lights flicked off, and the models began charging out to the Spinnerettes. And by 8:20, I was in Duane Reade buying toothpaste and pretzels. You either missed the show entirely or were totally tickled. The most anticipated show of the week—and what a breeze!

French blogger Garance Doré captures the drama perfectly from the other side (she missed the show). And how you can find so many various personal stories without having to ever talk to a single person. Ah, zee internet.

Posted at 03:26 PM in Fashion Week | Permalink

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