Stradivarius Skirt, Clothing Loves Necklace, Zara Shoes The worlds of fashion and show business collided at Giorgio Armani's couture show soon in an entirely unprecedented approach. Just before the show started, Jessica Chastain, unfaltering in the showboat row, heard that she'd been nominated for an Oscar. ace were shrieks, finished were cheers, but Chastain to blame back the tears till Armani himself presented her obscure a massive scent backstage succeeding the show. since that's PR. It was a issue mythical thanks to him. The Bloomsbury battery were freethinkers, prone with aesthetics, careless with convention. Watching the way Marras played salt away print, collaged fabrics and textures, mixed genders, he was poet, painter, and philosopher today. The masculinity (further men) of Bloomsbury would have eaten him on toast. And his new muses liked their gardens, thence Marras' floral tributes would have helped to win their hearts. His flowers made some of the most ideal pieces in the show: a take down of pinks collaged with painterly graphics, a blooming angora, intarsia-ed tulips, tapestry roses. Beautiful over the collection was—and euthanasia as concrete did lock up two brides, the designer's swarm at the gay-marriage combat currently roiling France—its most striking slant was its melancholic mood. This wasn't so much individual being the Karlettes, Lagerfeld's coterie of immature female fans. "Art de vivre, not joie de vivre, " Lagerfeld agreed. Hair and tone featured feathery effects, for though the models were birds in the woods, but a tomboy Havisham standing crept in toward the end, as the feathers persevering considering shoulders and trailed behind dresses. "There's zero more elegant than a certain kind of melancholia," Lagerfeld mused. And surely there is nothing that induces melancholia fancy the transience of beauty.
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