By CATHY HORYN
Published: February 7, 2008
Narciso Rodriguez’s sexual come-on was more subtle than the sisters Mulleavy of Rodarte — and to put sex and the inscrutable Rodarte together is a change. But on Tuesday, as the New York fall shows rolled on, Laura and Kate Mulleavy finessed the curves with a well-done collection.
What made their designs look so complete was that the Mulleavys stuck with the random pleated chiffon dresses and broken knitwear patterns from last season and refined them. Some designers might think that putting their audience through a repeat performance was tiresome, but given the sisters’ interest in dressmaking techniques, it’s fair to demand proof of seriousness.
Beyond the goals of transparency and stripped-down lightness, the Mulleavys evoked the imagery of ghost films with the shaded tones of their dresses, and with slashes of red for bloody effect. The composition of color and texture in each outfit was as different as it was precise. What is more, all that care did not lead the Mulleavys down a rabbit hole. The cardigan jackets and above-the-knee dresses, worn with tattered net stockings and goth stilettos, were more wearable and contemporary
One of the most accomplished outfits, worn by Coco Rocha, was a modified schoolgirl dress, its skirt and puffed sleeves in glistening blood-red chiffon, and its flat collar (or was it the illusion of a collar?) done in black against a smoke-gray bodice. Down the side flowed a red panel of black-streaked chiffon. If you think of the kind of deconstruction and deftly smudged sex appeal practiced by better-known designers — Marc Jacobs and Alber Elbaz, to name two — this dress is right in that vein. And the Mulleavys bring their own creativity to the style.
The knitted dresses also showed the value of staying with an idea. This time they are more singular in style and technique; the best example is a skimmy dress that combines a layer or two of black tulle at the waist with a cobweb of net at the bodice and yarnlike strands dusting the shoulders. Skirts and jackets made from shaggy lengths of yarn were also effective. What shines through this collection is the confidence of mastering something, or at least knowing that you are closer.
Soon after the start of Mr. Rodriguez’s predominantly black and deceptively somber show on Tuesday night, the designer’s objective became manifestly clear. As the model Irina Kulikova was advancing down the runway in a washed cashmere coat with rounded shoulders and a rounded skirt, its sleeves like a drainpipe, the silhouette of the previous model, Catherine McNeil, was retreating. The outline made by Ms. McNeil’s black stiff wool skirt and snug shearling jacket with a peplum was also rounded. From the front she had seemed such a wholesome thing, with no bad thoughts.
Design is a long process for people of Mr. Rodriguez’s age and experience, and to an extent this collection expressed the dangers of that inanely hopeful phrase “staying true to oneself.” He seemed locked in a tug of war between creating shapes that reflected his tailoring and sexy, minimalist aesthetic and his desire to challenge himself with other proportions and moods. The upshot was a collection that felt imaginatively constrained — not isolated exactly, but not as expansive as it should be for a designer of his stature.
The strongest elements in the show were the coats and jackets, which combined a new, appealing roundness in the tailoring with the flatness of double serge wool, and included details that hinted of military tunics. A slim wool tuxedo with a pair of satin strips at the sides of the jacket, its collar set back slightly, was boss.
Riding gear, like breeches and safety vests, supplied inspiration for a tight, sleeveless knit top worn with slim black pants, and perhaps the wide harness straps of narrow cocktail dresses. For color, there was pistachio, teal and melon, but it came in too-little portions.
Benjamin Cho exemplifies the maverick designer who, despite the usual challenges (um, selling clothes), believes in working out a technical problem to his satisfaction. For Mr. Cho, that might take several seasons. He doesn’t care. We, though, are the beneficiary of his convictions.
This season he again finds ways to suspend or embed objects like metal rings and flowers into clothes; the results were as mesmerizing as they were technically accomplished. Giant silk flowers kissed a blue velvet shift — an attempt, I thought, to wilt Balenciaga’s big floral prints for spring. Flower pinwheels were inset into tunics and on the front of a long dress in orange crushed velvet over a sequined shift.
I think I’m jealous of Michael Kors. He has such a good time. He doesn’t take anything seriously except, of course, business. His show on Wednesday was a blaze of Hollywood chic in the late 1950s and early ’60s: Lauren Bacall in a cloqué sheath, girls in tweed slacks, poor-boy sweaters, mink coats, mohair pullovers and black cocktail dresses with taupe pumps.
The clothes are so cheerful that you’d feel like the worst jerk to mention the Balenciaga flower prints. Ironic? Oh, brother: cash, baby. Sell a million lilac pencil skirts and gardenia print shells. No, it was a collection. It was almost camp, on the edge of camp, but not, thankfully, camp.
Thom Browne’s circus-themed show, on Monday, offered the long-awaited thrill of seeing two men share the same trouser leg. This was funny in the “Dumb and Dumber” sense. But while many of Mr. Browne’s attempts to manipulate masculine tailoring, with feathers and corset lacing, were fascinating, they seemed, at least this time, to be conducted in a vacuum.
The main events at Marc by Marc Jacobs were the pegged trousers and the tunic dresses in tweed and leather with stand-up collars. The collection was ’80s cute, with houndstooth-check skirts, a banana-yellow sweatshirt dress, bright pink bags and strappy ankle boots.
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