Francesca Belluomini

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Fashion Weeks: confessions we never publicly admitted

Because we can now that it’s over. And, provided that I haven’t attended one show in person, I have been an observer, a stalker, a live-stream junkie and a compulsive WWD.com addict.  

The most iconic maisons of times past, French most of them, have lost their eponymous heads, genius, revolutionary minds. It’s the inevitable and cruel tic-tac-tic-tac clock of life. At the current state of affairs, their creative helms are in the hands of someone playing multifaceted roles, an impersonator expected to swim and dig into the legacy, follow the traces, hold the reins and keep tracing the path to come. The same impersonator is to talk to clients, fans and media with the same language as the founder.

The DNA of a brand is elusive, impalpable alas visually enthralling.

I mean nobody is stranger to Coco’s camellia, unfinished tweeds and boiler hat? Not even who lives in suburban South Florida and does groceries at the gas station.

For the most sophisticated and fashion fanatics, we all had at least one dream in which we were wearing the white gown embroidered with black flowers that Givechy designed for Audrey in Sabrina? Yes, gloves included.

The Gucci’s horse bit or the Roberta di Camerino’s Bagonghi bag may be now must-haves for a restricted niche, but for Italians of generation Y they bring us back to … why fashion is in our threads (pun intended).   

Courege’s  palazzo pants, the bias cut of Madame Vionnet, the bold surrealism of Elsa Schiaparelli they are for those crazy fashion historians (and fashion history vultures).

How about Christian Dior? Mon Dieu, it was a painful saga with un-smoothened angles, although the house has a new tenant, Mr. Simons, whose minimalistic sense of style and upbringings redefined its basements.

We wish we could feel the same way about Balenciaga and its golden days, all the way back when Oscar de la Renta was an apprentice in Madrid. The bubble dress and the square coat that gave Balenciaga the praise of the press have been substituted within the collective imagination by Gesquiere’s over saturation of motorcycle bags. Alexander Wang is eulogized by bloggers and honestly doing his own thing for the new customers. 

Same thing with Yves Saint Laurent, new logo and name cut off by Hedi Slimane. Givan at The Cut gave him already her piece of mind (and a little more). I am not there to send him to the grave, overall, I am sitting at home and he’s the head of the house, But I can openly speak my mind and join the no Hedi team

Some order must be made, what makes you a sinner or a winner? It’s just a question: do you think that ________ [fill in with the designer of your choice] will roll in his grave or pat you in the back?

Without going through painful details, we have drawn the line between failure and gods, heaven and hell by adding consecutive images of original/impersonators and let your minds cogitate.

Images speak more words at times, so you got an idea at where we stand.

Have something to say? D’love to hear if we are on the same train of thoughts …