Apotheosis.

I'm a geek for fashion. I'm a quiet dork for fashion. I'm a history nerd, an aspiring wordsmith, an art-history-like appreciator with no desires to be hip, in, or sceney. I'm too goofy for all that. Last night though, I was a screaming tween to Fashion's boy band. My general rules of decorum (you do not point your camera directly into anyone's face; you smile at people, not gawk; you ask for photos unless people are obviously posing) flew right out the window. When the seas of scensters parted last night in front of Milk Studios where my friend Neil and I just happened to stumble upon the just ending Porenza Schouler show, there she was. Trailing her perfectly non-fashion-figured daughter Bee, who held her hand and gently guided her through a channel the beefy security men made to her waiting towncar. In the hushed silence, and amongst the hulking, walkied, yelling men, Anna Wintour looked ever so slight, so tiny, so....oh my god...right in front of me. I heard a voice in my head say point and shoot! Point and shoot! And, despite all rules about not being a fashion stalker, not being ridiculous in the face of people who I hope to one day interact with on some kind of a professional level, I pointed my camera in her face and snapped a picture, because, well? It was a fashion fan instinct. It was Anna Wintour. What can I say?

I think my camera flash kind of blinded her because the next thing I knew she was right, right, right in front of me saying "Excuse me." Very polite of her considering I just photo smacked her. Although, I'm sure she's used to it. As I turned around, I caught one more snap of her and have been staring at it since, marveling at the perfection of her bob.

Every hair was in perfect place! I have utter respect for Ms. Wintour and the empire she's built. I love that even the rowdy, me-me-me fashion circus fell silent in a symbolic, auditory bow towards her as she passed. It was quite the quiet moment.

Black Is The New Spring.

The Spring season is usually chock full of cheery colors, be it pleasant pastels, saturated citrus hues, or bright primaries, but black is usually on the back burner. I mean it's a non-season specific wardrobe staple, especially here in New York City, but Spring shows rarely feature it with any regularity. The truth is though, that black is one of the strongest selling colors for most designers. It's the basic that doesn't go out of style, and now that we are on a recession budget, it makes sense that the Spring 2010 runways look a little darker than usual. Thakoon's show in particular made a great use of black.

His combo of flowery, feminine prints and bright solids are set in high contrast with the basic black elements of his collection. From small, smoldering touches to blackout dresses, the hue plays a major role in his collection. But this is no simple issue of black and white, Thakoon's warrior look presents black as a fresh option for Spring, not that same old solid. Yes, it's dependable, but put that piece of black with a draped smack of Thakoon color and you have a knockout look. Wahhhhttchhhaaa!

From splashes to solids in Thakoon's blackened collection.

Photos from Style.com.

Rags To Riches.

The fact that Rodarte shows as a ready to wear concern is quite astonishing. The much loved sister act of Laura and Kate Mulleavy get their hands dirty in every single scrap of fabric they use to construct their incredible garments. The shredding, dyeing, stitching, smudging, scaling, sanding, and staining are all done by the ladies of the line. The results are incredible to see in person. In fact, I venture to say that if you are a fashion fan, you haven't quite lived until you've experienced a Rodarte garment up close, with all of your senses, especially your fingertips. Theirs are the only garments I've seen in a long time that don't induce rage at a high price tag. You can see the work, the time, the effort in their clothing. It's a work of art, and priced accordingly.

This season the ladies showed a collection that emerged from a runway clouded in green mist. With the backstory of abandoned women crafting together their own wears from bits and pieces of found clothing after an encounter with some detrimental forces, the show featured overtones of warrior women. Inked in thick black tattoos and donning black-blood-red lips, the post apocolypse catwalk looked punk rock and heavy metal. Studded, zipped poured on pants met ankle high, equally studded stilletos that can only be called hardcore. Dresses were pieced together of variously tortured fabrics.

It's interesting to me that the clothes actually swirl around a sentiment that's been popping up in fashion coverage lately, the idea of streetpeople as inspiration. I'm not talking about hip streetstyle, I'm talking about actual homeless people. People who make outfits out of something most would think of as nothing. There was a recent article penned by Cathy Horyn in The New York Times about this very subject and I think the Rodarte collection falls right in line with this. Now, the juxtapoition of those down on their luck and dwellingless, and the superriche garments of a design duo that go for thousands on the well constructed minimalist floors of Barney's isn't made as an insensitive or naive comparison. I'm not saying that the homeless are cute, fashion source material. Not in a trite way, at least.

In terms of the Rodarte collection, the idea that the materials were treated as scraps and refuse individually and brought together to make something functional, something beautiful, is really what draws the line of conncetion. Well, okay, maybe not the straightest line. Let's scale back on the severity a bit. How about the idea of making the best of what you have, when you don't have much? That's the place a lot of us shoppers are finding ourselves in now. Without the disposable income, our disposable clothing is also not being disposed of quite so often. How do you take what you wish you could get rid of, what you were intending to wear once and toss, and make it fresh? New? Like new? If you are the Mulleavys you weave and stitch and sew. You dye and bedazzle and wrap. You shred and burn and scissor. You make materials raw and you build things anew from scratch.

Models backstage at the Rodarte show.

That is what I love so much about Rodarte. You can see the creativity so evidently, so clearly, so wonderfully. Also, they seem like they would be excessively cool to hang out with.

Runway photos from Style.com, backstage photos from nytimes.com.

Sketch Me A Dream.

I have to admit, my love for Marc Jacobs is often tempestuous, like a storm that I can't really predict. Sometimes praise and adulation for him torrentially pours out of my being, and other times the feelings are cold, dusty, and dry. Although I'm not always a personal fan of his offerings (I did not for the life of me understand or desire any of his '80s on steroids garb from last season), I nearly always find something in either of his collections that indicates his preternatural ability to single-handedly push mass fashion culture in a new direction. He's on the crest of the wave of popular opinion, in fact I think he may be creating it at this point in time. He gets what women are willing to wear and gives it a thorough dusting of his brand of "be cool now". It takes a special kind of designer to sell all sorts of ephemera simply because it's stamped with a name, and Marc is king of the heap on that level. That, however, is not all he's capable of; if it were, there would be no real interest in him as a fashion designer, he would be more of a salesman, a businessman. Marc can sometimes hit both notes, the sellable and the awe-inspiring. When he does strike that chord just right, it's a beautiful thing. Take for example, the closing dress from his most recent collection:

It's a shame that this image is so small (catch a bigger glimpse here) because the dress is a masterful example of lightness. It's layers of sheer fabric are edged in thin, black, border stitching.

The effect is of a designer's quick ink sketch come to full, diaphanous life. It's remarkable. It's a wearable line drawing. I can almost hear the scratch of a calligrapher's pen against a fine quality cotton paper when I look at it. Worn over loose, sheer leggings, and with simple, pretty flats, it's a whisper of chic. It's as light as the sigh I'm breathing imagining wearing it. Ah, sigh...

Photos from Style.com.

This Is The Turning Point.

This is the point in Fashion Week where two seemingly contradictory things happen: fatigue starts to set in, and excitement bubbles up. The fatigue is a humbling thing for any fashion lover to admit. Yes, I am in a certain state of bliss in the midst of Fashion Week, where I'm constantly introducing my peaked senses to new streams of stimulation via the internet, people watching, and paper press coverage. Yet, I can only assume it's natural and universal to tire of the torrent at the midpoint, and I have. I think of Fashion Week as a marathon. Despite my deep love for it, it inevitably requires motivators to get me through. Just when I'm feeling overloaded with the new, now, next, shiny, bright, buzzing a certain necessary synthesis starts to creep into the swirl. All of the sudden, at the half way point, trends begin emerging and solidifying. Lines are traced through the collections and themes are coming to seem universal. I guess it's a natural human need to want clarity and connection between things. I'm a creature of instinct and categorizing, organizing, and storyboarding are safety making for me. So I'm thrilled that things are settling in a bit. It may take me minute to put it all into words, but I'm getting the ideas. Here's a taste: baggy stockings, black is the new spring, friller, show me your body, hide your body, flatfooted, toga party. It's coming together. I swear.

Times Ten.

As a fashion blogger I'm always looking for the best way to see the shows from my couch office. Of course Style.com's coverage is the most comprehensive. They get every show from every angle covering beauty, backstage, front row, and detail shots for nearly every designer as fashion week progresses. I'd be nothing without them. But, The New York Times has something that is proving to be an even more valuable tool, a nice zoom feature. Head on over to their site and see every look from a good selection of shows in a nice, large view with the click and drag of your mouse.

Take images from standard size to magnified with the Times feature.

It's amazing how much the texture, color, and materials pop to life when they are a bit bigger. I'm loving the amount of detail I can see.

Click the images above to check out the magnified view over at the Times Fashion and Style section.

Bandage Me.

I love the bandage skirts that Boy by Band of Outsides showed on their surfer girls. Paired with classic blazers and button downs, they are sexy without being too sleek.

Photos: Style.com.

Ports Goes Portly.

Ports 1961 joined the WTF train with their completely unflattering offerings for Spring. Is that too harsh? I don't know, take a look at these:

Voluminous, shiny sacks make stick skinny girls look unattractive, and they aren't going to do much for the curvy chicks either. Just saying.

Photos from Style.com.

Just Lookin' Out For My Girls.

The Sisters Mulleavy should be secure in their fashion world standing, and I'm not saying that they need my protection at all, but I've got their back. In my humble opinion CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund nominees Ohne Titel are encroaching quite strongly on the universe of Rodarte.

Looks from Ohne Titel's 2010 Spring show.


Lookin' a bit like some past seasons of Rodarte, no?

Ultimately Kate and Laura should take this as a sort of sincerest form of flattery. Fashion is a universe of ideas where nothing exists in a vacuum and everything is up for grabs and refits and reuse. There's nothing wrong with some borrowing. I just can't believe I haven't heard anybody raise the issue. Don't worry Sisters, I'm on it.

Topiary Touches? Eeek.

Hahahah. Ha. Ha. Hahahaha.

Oh dear, someone at Preen got their head stuck up some crazy idea tunnel. Who in the world is gonna willingly don dresses that attach ruffled, creature-looking, topiaries to their hips? Oy.

Many of the rest of the pieces in this collection struck a lovely chord of feminine, tough, lacy, and strong. But, those up there? They are not cute. Again, if your clothes make your stickly models look a little inflatable, you should go back to the drawing board. Also, if you want to add to and enhance the curves of the female figure, use models with curves. I'm just saying.

Photos from Style.com.

Androgynous Android.

Davidelfin's minty fresh showing was a little, um, weird. I'm not knocking weird. I love weird. I'm just saying, it was special. It was even more special thanks to the presence of this being who fit right into the weirdness.

Who is this broad shouldered, strong-jawed, redhead? Did she arrive from ET's den just for Davidelfin's show only to be teleported back to space as soon as the last mint green ensemble strutted the runway? No, sillies. That's model Eleonora Bose. She hails from Madrid and has actually had a long career of modelling for many a big name in fashion. I guess I've never seen her be quite so visible and striking before. The mint green/flame red contrast of her spin on the Davidelfin runway really caught my eye. Here are some shots of the boyish Bose in previous gigs:

She also goes by the name Bimba, but something tells me she's tougher than your average bimbo. A model who throws punches and can out boy the boys on the runway? I like it. By the way, here are the men who stalked the runway with Bose:

Told ya she out-boyed 'em. Nice shorty shorts, Scooter!

So Much Better.

The only thing that didn't confuse me about Costello Tagliapietra in previous seasons was their label as the cutest bears in fashion. I mean, look at them:

They certainly are adorable. Their collections, however, were not. I didn't get it. They were so hyped and yet looks like this seemed to negate any positive thing I read about their design talents:

Those looks make me a little gaggy. Leather and picnic prints? Shiny fuchsia and washed silk raspberry? Yeesh. Not so pleasing to the Anna eyes. This season, however, they've turned out a collection that restores my faith in their abilities. Cute, but by no means cutesy, dresses with leather boy shoes that clear up some of my confusion.

I love those. Theytime travel (think '40s) with a modern simplicity that makes them perfect for today. The big boys even did some interesting flower-inspired dresses that are a bit less simple, but still within the bounds of great taste.

The print is from digital photos that the designers took and translated onto fabric. The results are feminine and pretty but the palette and the skilled draping keep them in sophisticated territory. Nice work, gentlemen. I get it now. For now. Just don't assault me again with crazy next season. I won't be happy.

Photos from Style.com.