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Paris Diary: Voila The Luxury Death Cult

The Maddening Crowd outside Givenchy FW 09The Maddening Crowd outside Givenchy FW 09

This is how many layers of fashionistas it took to get to the door people at Givenchy yesterday evening. To the left of the frame is Michael Roberts going "Do you see me yet...Do you see me yet...Do you see me yet"...in the center, the editor of Vogue China in that serious serious Balmain jacket that is so outre in person you realize that it is meant to be worn on the forward stern of the yachts of Russian billionaires docked in St Tropez. Versace wishes and she fascinates me ! Last night The Clique (new term for TI's Paris posse) retreated from the fray to a lovely Thai restraunt on the opposite corner of Cafe Creme. The talk turned to layers of fame, ("Funny innit, how a Vogue Paris editor gets more flashing lights that Mr Flashing Lights Kayne himself")... of the Helmut Lang-esque aspect of parts of Givenchy FW 09 and of how THAT will sell since there's a whole new market that has zero memory of Lang's horsehair boots. We then went into a whole elegy for Helmut Lang, on how invaluable his archives must be right now and how there's an inevitable museum retrospective looming for those pieces. And this was from a company of 23 year olds. Think how the 35 year olds feel! Speaking of the elegiac. Tommy from Jak and Jil assured us that the majestically stark metisse beauty on the catwalk had been Brandi Quininones which was gasp-worthy. I loved, loved, loved that casting at Givenchy because it was young (Ranya)/older(Karen Elson) , haute (Uliana) and VS (Adriana Lima), multi-cultural, unforced and particular to that designer. With the critical mass of good shows front loaded at the start of the week, it was nice to see a weekend collection that caused such a powerful ripple effect among punters. Which is not to say it was a masterpiece collection, given that Givenchy FW 09 were about three shows jammed into one. But still it was nice that Riccardo Ticci felt a messy kind of passion about what he was doing instead of clinging to the good old auto-pilot.

Taste is a dictatorship.

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