Every so often during the runway collections, I am forced to wonder exactly what would have become of the world if Miuccia Prada had pursued her studies in political science instead of building a fashion house now virtually unchecked in its aesthetic
imperialism.
Perhaps she would be leading a quiet life as a visiting professor at Georgetown University. Regardless of how that that kind of professional life would have played out, it is reasonable to propose that consumers in today's global luxury marketplace would be spending most of their time naked -- because they would have nothing to wear.
It is not just the mall-based chains who have immersed themselves in the Prada style. So have a whole slew of high-end competitors, a reality that seemed to crystallize at Behnaz Sarafpour's show at Tiffany and Co last Sunday morning. When Sarafpour came out to take her bow, she even comported herself in the way of the "Really I must get back to my Russian novel now" Milanese designer.
Featured in the window of Club Monaco, just down the block, was the look of sophisticated tie-dyed clothing that Prada has recently popularized. This seemed fitting. What did not, though, was the appearance of subtle tie-dyed patterns on full matronly dresses and skirts, in the Prada manner, on Sarafpour's runway a short while later. That look did not make up the entirety of her collection. Sarafpour veered away from it with lean-lined dresses trimmed with pearl fringes and chinoiserie -- chinoiserie having been the cornerstone of the Prada ethos just a little over a year ago. Fashion itself would barely exist in these times without recycling. But one expects designers to plumb further back into history than nine months ago.
Donna Karan's show for DKNY, held at the restaurant Pastis, articulated another idea recurrent in Prada, the undying devotion to one's charming grandmother. Karan, who wore tight jeans to the show and looked as if she should be reaching for her bass guitar, turned out full pleated skirts, some in beautiful brocade prints, all displayed on mannequins who were pretending to eat scones. A pretty beaded cardigan was buttoned with an old-fashioned brooch. It was only in deviations from the Prada ideal -- cropped pants and newsboy caps -- that Karan made missteps. That, and the fact that her show centered on the theme of brunch.
Wenlan Chia, who designs a pretty line of clothes under the name Twinkle, also showed an affinity for the grandmotherly. Chia topped bulky hand-knit sweaters that looked spun from crochet needles with 1950s dresses and camisoles. Her signature intarsia sweaters, this time rendered in cool colors, were cleverly paired with floral printed chiffon skirts. Chanel-ish cardigans and chiffon dresses in simple shapes saved the collection from looking as if it had been the weekend wardrobe of an aggressively style-conscious high-schooler.
It was the mournful schoolgirl, though, who inspired Tess Giberson. Giberson showed austere gray and white skirts and dresses, long both in the literal sense and also in their austerity. Some garments carried a pretty simplicity -- a high-collared, three-quarter-sleeve a-line dress; a charcoal suit of the kind Veronique Branquinho might think up. But the designer's stark presentation cast a pall on them, with white walls, models turning toward you as if witnesses in a trial, their hair talcum-powdered and done up to look like gnocchi.
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