The Clock Stops Here...

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Madison Avenue Meets 7th Avenue

Tuesday night, Richards hosted a Personal Appearance and Michael Kors fashion show. Michael is the quintessential American designer, Bill Blass for the millennium, so to speak...Carrie at Charlotte's next Bridal Shower.

I love the juxtaposition of luxe and simplicity that he always pulls off, often in the same garment. For instance, a cappuccino mink collar crowns a cheetah wool coat...Queen Mum? Not in Michael's hands. Does the bank require you to state the reason for a loan?

Anyone who is a Project Runway fan, feels like Michael could be a personal friend. Even in his role as superstar judge, MK comes across as approachable, funny and honest. You sense immediately upon meeting him that his persona is his persona and how much fun it would be to go swill a few cocktails with him at the Cub Room.

I am addicted to quirky, non-network television. In Treatment, Damages, Weeds, The Tudors, Nip/Tuck, Dexter and wild card AMC's Mad Men, all intrigue me. Apparently, Mad Men, Matthew Weiner's exceptional drama, about N.Y. advertising circa 1960, also inspired Michael. So much so, he created his Fall collection in homage. Every nuance of the Mad Men set rings true, couches are low slung and armless, head's Brylcreamed, boobs, crossed in Playtex, plus a whole lotta Johnnie Walker Black, getting swilled amidst billows of endless smoke. And then there are the clothes...The Men are a sea of conformity, in slim, 3 button dark suits, worn with white shirts and wingtips. But the women! What a feast for the eyes and Michael nails it!!!

Wives, mistresses and secretaries, on parade in: plaid tweed pencil skirts with shrunken back zipped sweaters, full skirted floral taffeta dresses, to wear to dinner at 21, front belted, swing back, portrait collar camel coats, strapless column gowns, empired and bowed under the bust ala Jackie...ahhhhh. Some are in a palette of harvest gold, avocado and brown, others in plums and fuscias back to smokey grey and show me a brunette who doesn't look killah in true "lipstick" red. It's all very Samantha Stevens meets Gywneth Paltrow...

Michael and this collection are the embodiment of the American dream, then and now and I love it. If Michael could just wiggle his nose and make gas 25 cents a gallon, circa 1960, maybe I could afford that mink trimmed cheetah coat after all...

A girl can dream, can't she???

xox,
Dd

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