I went through all my photos trying to find Kanye in the front row but no such luck.
As I was due to fly out right after, I was running late and non-gracefully entered the show just as it began, following echoes of the song "Video Games" by Lana del Rey. (Ubiquitous sidenote: What is the deal with this girl? She was being hyped up all over the UK and evidently fancies herself a bit of a modern-day Nancy Sinatra, but reliable sources tell me she's a poseur! Did I just say poseur?)
After spying Anna Dello Russo in the most exquisite sequined ensemble, I was able to concentrate on the models. The hair was perfect (messy chignons) and the makeup was minimal. The clothes were stunningly gorgeous. Said to be inspired by depressed teenagers in council flats, some of the looks were haunting juxtapositions between sadness and joy. The 60s-inspired flower power appliqués were tempered by the layered base of the garment.
Swing coats, A-line mini skirts, and shift dresses were all saved from being too sweet with origami folds and subtle cutouts. The florals were reminiscent of wallpaper you might find in a Swiss chateau or chalet in Provence. In other words: Right up my alley!
Crystal embellished pieces (including jeans!) were enough to make most grown women I know squeal with delight.
To finish off the looks, Kane had all of the models wear flat pool shoes. POOL SHOES, you guys! Totally flat, practical rubber-soled sandals that were coordinated to match the outfits. How refreshing!
My gut tells me these are going to be hotly debated this Spring. The Fug girls will most certainly hate them. Maybe if Chloe Sevigny gives her seal of approval, pool shoes will be the new Birkenstocks! (Which were the new Saltwater sandals. At least in my world.) Ladies, we are well on our way to a Teva revolution!
Christopher Kane is Scottish, and the show made me so proud to be a self-appointed honoray Scot. The metallics, floral prints and light-reflecting color palette had me feeling as if I was in an underwater, meticulously curated flower garden, lovingly tended to by a 1950s-era tiara-wearing Martha Stewart. (And I didn't even drop acid before the show!)
If anyone feels compelled to buy me any of the pieces from this collection next Spring, contact me for my address. You know I love you, dear readers!
PS Big massive thank you to my lovely friend Dan for a ticket to the hottest show of London Fashion Week.
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