Dolce and Gabbana hit a serious high note with the closing act of their Spring 2012 RTW collection, when an army of Poly, Rubjik, Fontana, Smalls & Co. stomped down the runway in bejeweled one-piece bodices. It was the intersection of low-rent Pussycat Dolls burlesque and high fashion. It was mid-90s Moschino meets Versace. It was Barbie’s formal pool party attire. It was, and still is, to reluctantly quote Rachel Zoe, everything. I am so not over it, and neither are editors at the 10 different magazines that showcased the bodysuit on their covers (Interview, Czech Elle, Salt, Vogue Turkey, Vogue Germany, Vogue Japan, Vogue Russia, Tatler Russia, Marie Claire, and Prestige Hong Kong). And seeing as houses like Prada and Versace also offered a variety of adoooorable pants-free getups, I don’t think I’m wearing pants this summer.
I’m OBSESSED with these strappy Alaïa sandals. Omnipresent among the fashies who flock to the Tuileries each season, they never fail to impress. Somehow, I feel like if I wore these suckers, my knees would magically acquire that artful Carine Roitfeld-esque knobbiness so prominent on the Emmanuelle Alts and Giovanna Battaglias of the fashion world. I have loved knobby knees since I first heard the term in 9th grade, when it was hurled by our twisted drama teacher as an insult to a classmate. I couldn’t understand how anyone could say “knobby knees” with as much disdain as he did; a bony, angular knee seemed hyper elegant to me (this is perhaps due to the facts that a) I never had bony knees, and b) I read waaay too many fashion magazines).
Is it strange to covet a knee shape? I would like to think that, in comparison to the virtual proliferation of creepy thin-spo photos, my admiration of fashionista’s knees is at most, err, quirky. And charming? Ok, just quirky. I shall post evidence so you see what I mean. I’m not crazy! They’re GREAT knees!
The Aesthete: Thierry Boutemy
A favorite on the fashion scene, he started off with lush bouquets for Sofia Coppola’s ”Marie Antoinette.” And he calls his Belgian flower boutique a “sex shop.” So, ‘nuff said, I’m a fan.
Wow. This is quite a refreshing piece from the editrix of Vogue Italia, Franca Sozzani. Lately, she has been contributing some impressively frank commentary on the issue of body image in fashion. Next step: to stop thinking so much about your body. Period.