Fall 2013 Trend Alert: Grunge Rocks!

Gentle reader,

A string of rather unsettling billboards has been appearing around town that seems to be advertising a new television series or film about a family that wears hideous matching sweaters.  I can’t stand to look at them for more than a second, quite frankly, but the image that is burned into my retina places the time period firmly between the years of 1982 to 1984.  I’m not really sure why we keep trying to revive the 80s because unlike the 1920s or the 1940s, which have also been popular recent references in fashion, it was a supremely unattractive decade.  Whether the neon colors of early Madonna or Joan Collins’ lamé Dynasty gowns or the high-waisted jeans featured on that show starring Michael J. Fox,

Marc Jacobs SS 2013

S/S 2013 COLLECTIONS: Back in Black (and White) in NYC

Gentle reader,

I’ve been trying to be less dismissive of New York Fashion Week lately.  Really, I have.  I love New York City and I know that many people there work so very hard to put on all these shows.  It’s also an election year so I feel like I should just generally be more patriotic, but it always seems like the truly directional designers always show in Milan and Paris.  Like, if Mrs. Prada shows drop-waist dresses one season, guess what kind of waists everyone is going to show the next.  But, no matter what the waist, she ain’t showing them at Lincoln Center.  And did you ever see a full-size fucking train loaded with models and Louis Vuitton luggage pull into a tent in Bryant Park?  Yeah, I didn’t think so.

New York always seemed like the place where D.J.-turned-designers and reality TV stylists-turned-designers were more likely to find a place on the roster, and prior to this season I’d never even heard of the other two-thirds of the people that were scraping together a million bucks to send their shit down a runway.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I consulted the schedule of this year’s Mercedes Benz Fashion Week and saw some names that I not only recognized but also couldn’t wait to see what they’d come up with.  The Rodarte girls and my old boss Tommy Hilfiger brought their collections back from Europe and the Pierre Balmain line was going to show here, too.  I’m not sure what caused the westward migration but I’m thankful the only bright spot of my week wasn’t just the glittery drag catwalk that is The Blonds.

Nights In Rodarte: Dreams And Nightmares


by James Tuttle

Gentle reader,

Welcome back, Real Housewives of Orange County!  I’ll be damned if every single season you don’t look more like a bunch of high-class prostitutes.  It seems that there’s only one place to shop behind the Orange Curtain and it only stocks jersey frocks with spaghetti straps and plunging necklines.  Fashion is about making choices, girls, not about dressing like you’re all bridesmaids at the same Cabo San Lucas destination wedding.

The Electric Plastic Frosted un-Real Housewives of OC voguing jersey knit realness.

I don’t get down to Orange County very often, actually never, but I’ve been assured by those who do that it’s very conservative, rather suburban and that the women who live there actually do sport fake blonde hair, fake tans, fake lips and fake boobs just like the Real Housewives cast.  It seems like they’re trying to replace the real beauty that comes from a woman embracing and expressing who she is with some kind of bland, plastic imitation.  To put it into perspective, this is coming from someone who lives in L.A.  Ouch.