Sure, I only ever have fashion on the brain, but that’s because it’s what I’m paid to think about all day. I somehow managed to turn my hobby of endlessly browsing through fashion week slideshows into a temporary means of employment, and my head is sort of swimming with photos of models and designers and peacock makeup (Prabal for the win!) and rainbow fur and I can’t keep it all straight. Still, some images stand out more than others.
Miguel Adrover thought it would be fun to make it rain on the runway, sending his models out with armfuls of fake money to fling up into the air with reckless abandon. A gimmick, I thought? Maybe, although the collection was so full of outrageous headwear and enormously structured pockets that it didn’t really need any extra help drawing attention. Irony, maybe. People are still grumbling about those “tough economic times” even as designers return to luxury fabrics and furs. Is there any better way to represent that than by throwing around useless currency?
Ultimately, the optimist-nista in me decided that what Miguel Adrover in all his designery wisdom was trying to say was something like “fashion-is-art-is-beauty-is-life and therefore transcends value.” Because it’s not like most of us can just buy fancy clothes off the runway, right? If we’re lucky, we’ll maybe find a piece we coveted like five years ago at a Beacon’s Closet somewhere. But we still flock to the Internet the second a new collection pops up and we ooh and ahh about what we like and what we don’t like and it’s because fashion is pretty, I think, but also because it’s relevant. It enmeshes itself in our identities whether we want it to or not. At the end of the day we all need to find something to wear. It might as well make us happy.
I know. Deep stuff.
Turning off brain now. Dreaming about Altuzarra gypsies, Wes Gordon knits and a new crop of bandage dresses.
[images via The Cut]