The Bride Wore Very Little



By RUTH LA FERLA
Published: February 21, 2008
THE gown was almost wanton — fluid but curvy with a neckline that plummeted dangerously. “It makes me feel sexy and beautiful,” said Natasha DaSilva, who slipped it on for a fitting last week.

Except that Ms. DaSilva, who will be married on Long Island in September, plans to wear it at the altar.

“Why not?” she asked. “I want to look back in 20 years and feel like I looked hot on my wedding day.”

Ms. DaSilva, 26, thinks of herself as adventurous, but not so brash that she is about to cross a line. Dressing for a wedding as if it were an after-party is accepted among her family and friends. “For my generation, looking like a virgin when you marry is completely unappealing, boring even,” she said. “Who cares about that part anymore?”

Ms. DaSilva is typical of a growing number of brides flouting convention by flaunting their curves. More vamp than virgin, many are selecting gowns that bare a generous expanse of cleavage, midsection, lower back or thigh, temptress styles that may be better suited to a gala or boudoir than to a church or ballroom.

“Brides today absolutely want to look sexy and glamorous,” said Mara Urshel, an owner and the president of Kleinfeld, the venerable Manhattan bridal salon. In recent months, the store has seen a spike in demand for plunging necklines and negligee looks, one that has only intensified since the spring bridal collections began arriving in stores. For brides shopping now for gowns to wear at summer or early fall weddings, “there is a lot of freedom of choice, and these girls exercise every bit of it,” Ms. Urshel said.

Determined to look torrid on their wedding day, they are picking dresses modeled, say, on the one worn by Christina Aguilera, who was married in 2005 in a gown with a plummeting neckline and ruffled fishtail hem. Or maybe the hope is to emulate Sarah Jessica Parker, who, in the forthcoming film version of “Sex and the City,” spills out of the front of her wedding dress.

“Young women increasingly look to the red carpet for style ideas,” said Millie Martini Bratten, the editor in chief of Brides magazine. “They are very aware of how they look,” she added. “They diet, they work out. And when they marry, they want to be the celebrity of their own event.”

To accommodate them, the once rigidly corseted bridal industry has loosened its stays. At the spring bridal shows in New York last October, tastemakers like Vera Wang, Oscar de la Renta, Reem Acra, Angel Sanchez and Carolina Herrera unveiled a preponderance of strapless styles, trumpet shapes and even a few above-the-knee looks. More-daring designers offered filmy peignoir dresses, two-piece looks and skirts slit all the way to the hip.

Some of these va-voom confections seem tailor-made for the bride who envisions the march down the aisle as a long-dreamed-of photo op, and the reception as an after-party on the scale of Oscars night.

“Women now are looking at their weddings more like a movie premiere,” said Jose Dias, a designer for Sarah Danielle, a New York bridal house.

These steamy fantasies extend to their choice of location. “It used to be that unless you married at home, you were married in a church,” Ms. Bratten said. But today fewer weddings take place in a house of worship, and fewer still in the bride’s hometown.

According to a 2006 survey by Condé Nast Bridal Media, 16 percent of couples choose a destination wedding — a fourfold increase from a decade ago. The same survey found that only 46 percent of brides are married in a church or synagogue, down from 55 percent the year before. With weddings transported to other locales comes a loosening of conventions.

Whether they marry in a walled garden, on a tennis court, on a yacht or at the beach, “brides are more focused on the after-party, and on personalizing it,” Ms. Bratten said.

Beginning with the gown. Today the prevailing fantasy is no longer, “ ‘I want to be a princess in my ball gown,’ ” Mr. Dias said. “A lot of women have done that already for their prom.”

Mr. Dias, who is based in Los Angeles, accommodates clients’ desires for dresses that echo runway trends with halter-tops and off-the-shoulder gowns that are more emphatically provocative than the strapless looks that have become commonplace. His dresses are cut to appeal to the bride who is “confident in her sexuality,” he said.
Similar considerations prompted the designer Monique Lhuillier, a favorite in Hollywood, to fashion a dress with an Empire bodice, wide lace straps and a wispy chiffon skirt — features more often found in a nightgown. A hit of Ms. Lhuillier’s spring bridal collection, the dress is available at Kleinfeld.

Yielding to clients’ demands, Pnina Tornai, an Israeli-born designer, specializes in patently vixenish gowns. Only a couple of years ago Ms. Tornai’s dresses — often cut from semi-sheer panels of lace — met with a chilly reception in New York. “When I first came to show my collection at Kleinfeld, I was thrown out the door,” she said. Undaunted, she modified her dresses and several months later returned. Today her gowns are among the store’s best sellers.

For brides who want to maintain the traditional modesty during the wedding ceremony but cut loose at the reception, there is the increasingly popular option of topping the dress with a shawl, stole or bolero.

When Jana Pasquel, a New York society figure and jewelry designer, said her vows in a convent in Mexico City last November, she wore bouffant dress by Vera Wang; effusively romantic, it was traditional except for the neckline, which revealed more than Ms. Pasquel cared to show.

Her father, who is Mexican, “is a traditional Catholic,” said Ms. Pasquel, 31. “He would not have liked me to walk down the aisle like that, so I had the designer make a cover-up, a kind of a bolero, very full and infanta-looking. It came all the way up to my neck.”

At a second marriage ceremony later that week on a beach in Acapulco, Ms. Pasquel thought only of pleasing herself. Inspired by a trip to India, she wore a tiny midriff-baring bodice and an abundant skirt made of gold leaf. More sensuous than brazen, it made an impression, she recalled. “People talked about it — a lot.”

Catherine Cuddy, an insurance analyst in New Jersey, was similarly focused on turning heads when she married in Bryant Park in New York last October. She dispensed with the customary long, fitted sleeves and train in favor of a halter style that dipped to the small of her back.

Even a veil was too much for her. “I didn’t want to cover up my dress,” said Ms. Cuddy, 33, a self-described Rita Hayworth type. Or the torrents of curls that rushed past her shoulders. Or, for that matter, her gym-toned back.

To get in shape for her gown, a white lace sheath that appeared to have been turned on a lathe, she stepped up visits with her trainer from one to three sessions a week. Ms. Cuddy had no thought of defying tradition or making a statement of any kind. She simply wanted to make the most of her curves, she said.

When she marries in Long Island City next fall, Ms. DaSilva, too, will dress as she sees fit — and with her mother’s blessing. “My mom loves my gown,” she said delightedly. “She thinks it’s very figure-flattering.”

Would her male relatives object?

“Oh, no, no, no,” Ms. DaSilva said. “Besides, in my family, we’re mostly women. It’s pretty much — we’re in control.”

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By CATHY HORYN
Published: February 20, 2008
Milan

Nothing about Prada or Jil Sander is easy, though simplicity — and tradition — are at the core of both fall collections. Miuccia Prada turned lace into a holy and fetishistic enterprise, while Raf Simons of Jil Sander tested the structural foundations of minimalism.

Yet these are the two designers who, quite simply, matter in Milan.

In contrast to the firefly transparency for spring, Mr. Simons went heavier, warmer, the tweed and dark woolen collars spiraling against the face — and that may be a turn-off. But in virtually every outfit in his show on Monday night, Mr. Simons put purpose to his tailoring. And Milan has been awash in clothes without interest or real design.

Under Mr. Simons, Jil Sander has become a source for beautiful dresses and modern tailoring. This time, he said, he wanted the tailoring patternmakers to think more like the drapers, and vice versa. That exercise produced a slim navy wool sheath with a chevron of pressed pleats from neckline to hem, as well as a remarkable dress with a bow effect at the neck done with an inner structure of padding under speckled gray tweed.

Structure is the essence of fashion, and many designers have shied away from it — or do it cheaply with a gather. Mr. Simons sees only contemporary possibilities with the most traditional values, like a tweed jacket in a blend of navy and purple that breaks interestingly above the elbows and holds your attention with the way the fabric spills and drapes across the front. And this hard-core interest has put him in the vanguard of women’s fashion.

“You want to be more simple in fashion now, and more minimal,” Ms. Prada said after her fascinating show on Tuesday night. Of course, she is not talking about lovely dresses, like those that Tomas Maier showed earlier in the day at Bottega Veneta. Mr. Maier’s chic, liquidlike dresses — complemented this season with rounded blue-violet coats pasted with felt curls — have the ardent-heartedness of a man pressing his case with chocolates and roses. (O.K., O.K., you big slob, make me a lady!)

No, Ms. Prada’s black lace dresses are something else. Lace is the fabric of women’s lives, from christening robes to bridal gowns to widow’s weeds. (And let us harmonize: We are fashion nuns!) So, like Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garçons and perhaps like Azzedine Alaïa, Ms. Prada took a single idea and stayed with it, working the black and beige lace (or orange and blue lace) into coats and slim dresses and tops with stiff satin peplums, all over bodysuits or white cotton shirts. As she said: “You have to go all the way. A little touch of lace becomes pretty.”

Structurally, proportionally, the clothes were very direct and simple — the ruffled edges of some of the 1940s dresses repeated in the suede and patent-leather pumps and nylon bags. The lace becomes the intellectual and emotional catalyst. You can’t not ask if the dresses are indecent — many of them are, after all, transparent. But Ms. Prada has made sure that it’s not the only question her collection raises against the female self.

To an outsider — woman or man, straight or gay — many of the clothes on the Milan runways would look peculiar. They have no precise fit, no clear design values; and, apart from Sander and Prada, only a superficial waxing of authority. A weird sensitivity has captivated designers, like too many readings of Virginia Woolf, and it has resulted in sagging shapes with carefully placed flounces, practical cloaks and a suicidal palette saved by a bright touch of peacock blue.

Collections like Alberta Ferretti and Pringle, designed by Clare Waight Keller, have the range of a conversation conducted over a backyard fence. Ms. Waight Keller has a flair for knits, but her Pringle is all discreet sensibility and no humor. Her press notes refer to a “clean, disciplined correctness,” and that meant capes and austere poncho dresses. But only to a fashion person disciplined in little details would these “correct” clothes have value. To someone else, a blank husband, they would read as “nag, nag, nag: take out the trash.”

Christopher Bailey has steadily moved away from the idiosyncratic groundwork he first laid at Burberry. Those clothes were always surprising and informative, a mix of British heritage, new influences and masculine uniform, and they made Mr. Bailey a contemporary pathfinder.

His show on Monday restored some of that freshness, particularly in the A-line wool coats worn with bric-a-brac jeweled necklaces (hung on chains like decanter labels), and smart, sculptural knit tops worn with sexy silk trousers. But he still gets lost in the couture effects, like frumpy Empire lines and pleated cloqué, the stiffness and fit making beetles out of supermodels.

It took giants to build the Milan fashion houses, and apparently it takes corporations to bury them. Gianfranco Ferré is the latest management fiasco; after Mr. Ferré’s death last June, the company hired the designer Lars Nilsson. That marriage was swiftly annulled — did somebody not ask enough questions at the start? — and the collection on Monday was a respectful team effort that stopped short of embarrassment.

Mr. Ferré’s fashion was modernist architecture with the blood thirst of a diva. It always said: Go for it. Designers are fumbling all over Milan, doing delightful things with seams. This would be a lucrative moment for someone at Ferré to get it right.

No words could properly describe Cristina Ortiz’s first effort for Salvatore Ferragamo, another house in perpetual transition, until I looked out the car window on my way to Prada and saw a billboard of the tawny mane and cleavage of Celine Dion. But exactly!

Like a lot of designers, Angela Missoni finds inspiration in “The Women,” the George Cukor film now in remake, and as she observed on Sunday, “135 actresses and not even the shadow of a man.”




Well, not quite. There is the incredible influence of Adrian, the MGM costume designer of the film. Ms. Missoni didn’t attempt to channel Adrian — that would be pointless — but she did appreciate his feeling for asymmetry and unusual prints, among other bygone qualities.

Who doesn’t admire self-expressive fashion and wish there were more choices for women? Ms. Missoni’s trouble is that while she understands the principle of having an independent style, she doesn’t have the imaginative powers to realize it in a contemporary way.

She may believe that women would feel happier in a poncho lined in a Missoni print, more sophisticated in a turquoise print silk dress over a turtleneck, and more mysterious in a pair of gray flannels with a stiff floral stole, but the results, on this outing, looked self-conscious.


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