The Planner and The Scammer

I saw the picture almost immediately after it happened. I'd spent the previous decade getting my hands on pictures from every runway show and look book that I could. I clicked through images of accessory close-ups, atmosphere, and attendees until my wrist ached. But by 2014, I'd started to take less note of who was sitting front row. Fashion week was changing and the importance of that publicity venue was waning.

But there were still some shows where an invite mattered, where a front row seat meant something. Chanel and Dior and Louis Vuitton's elaborate runway productions are always chockablock full of their ambassadors, the women who help sell their shoes and leather goods and perfumes to the masses. Because these contracts last for years and are generally renewed repeatedly, the same faces are seen again and again. Creative directors step down or burn out, years pass, but still Charlize Theron is in Dior and Jennifer Connolly wears Louis Vuitton.

Miu Miu is one of the last shows to walk during Paris Fashion Week and always has a front row full of buzz. While many of the women given access to those seats end up in a Miu Miu campaign, the brand prefers to cycle through young actresses and models from season to season instead of committing to a few for long stretches. More importantly, the Miu Miu front row crowns those who are newly it, the term that entered our cultural lexicon with the Clara Bow silent movie of the same name and whose slippery concept rising stars, especially female ones, continue to chase to this day.

I think it's safe to assume that Rihanna was there simply because she liked the idea of it. The fashion side of the celebrity game has never seemed like a chore for her. In fact, she has always seemed to find real joy it it, and she was at a point in her career where she could do as she liked.

On the other hand, Lupita, fresh off her Oscar win for 12 Years a Slave, was a new name and a new face. She bookended her many red carpet appearances of the preceding fall and winter with Prada, the sister brand of Miu Miu, first at the movie's Toronto Film Festival premiere and finally on her triumphant night only days before the show.

I wasn't surprised to see her seated there taking a picture with the stars of 2013's Palme d'Or winner.

And I wasn’t surprised when she was selected as one of the faces of the Spring/Summer 2014 Miu Miu campaign.

But I was surprised to see the picture of these two seatmates return to my life a couple of months ago. The image had originally taken over Tumblr, but I am just old enough to not understand how Tumblr works or what happens there. It wasn't until it resurfaced on Twitter that I became aware of its second life as a meme. Hadn't this picture been around for years? I reminded myself that not everyone spends hours following the goings on of various fashion weeks. The excitement spread to the two women at the center of it all, and I let myself get a little giddy about it as other creatives jumped in to say they found it intriguing as well.

What is a scamming movie if not a cousin to a heist movie? And didn't I love heist movies?

I knew there were probably going to be issues around attribution and Hollywood is still itself, so when the fervor died down, I let the image drift to the back of my mind again. Then the news broke. It was happening. Something that would make many of us happy had been willed into existence. This year has been kind to very few of us, but here was something to celebrate. Instantly my mind ran off in search of an answer to a pressing question. What would these characters wear? It would be so easy to put them in seasons and seasons of Prada and Miu Miu's quirky chic. But a scammer must wear many masks and many masks calls for many brands.

I'm sitting on five seasons worth of bookmarks going all of the way back to Resort 2017. If I get out of my own way, I could still write something about many of those seasons. But Resort 2017 is over now, and this is my chance to finally give it the due it deserved.

I started with what they would wear when alone and hanging out together, possibly while constructing a new plan in the modern kitchen of a beautiful loft that some gullible man pays the rent for. Or maybe when they're tucked into a quiet corner of the neighborhood coffee shop where they've become close to a barista who supplies them with complimentary espresso. The clothes that you truly live in. Those worn when all of those performative parts of your personality are turned off. The ones that you wear with someone you trust.

For Both

At Sonia by Sonia Rykiel

At A.L.C.

For The Planner

At Sonia by Sonia Rykiel

At Sportmax

At Timo Weiland

At Alice + Olivia

At Mara Hoffman

For The Scammer

At Rachel Zoe

At Tomas Maier

At Haney

At Rodebjer

At Victor Alfaro

Then I chose one Resort 2017 collection as the core inspiration for each of their on wardrobes.

For The Planner, it was Holly Fulton's playful patterns.

For The Scammer, it was the luxe architectural feel of Maticevski.

From those points of reference, I went about the fun but somewhat overwhelming task of further flushing out their on closets.

The Planner with her offbeat prints and full skirts and Peter Pan collars.

At Sonia by Sonia Rykiel

At Tracy Reese

At Versace

At Delpozo

At Fausto Puglisi

At Alexander McQueen

At Victoria Victoria Beckham

At Nina Ricci

At Delpozo

At Fendi

The Scammer with her glamorous outerwear, architectural notes, and structured sex appeal.

At Boss

At Sally LaPointe

At Akris

At Emilio Pucci

At Bottega Veneta

At Courrèges

At Missoni

At Rochas

At Osman

At Monse

At Mugler

At Dion Lee

But this is only scratching the surface.


Images via, via

Daydreams

I first wrote about the Stella McCartney Resort 2010 collection when it debuted. I fell in love with it on sight. The shots of yellow and red and green set against navy and black and white. The sparkle and shine that ran through much of it. The stripes. Five years later, I still think of it often, dream of it really. There are other collections that linger in my mind. McQueen and his chessboard. Jacobs and his Louis Vuitton carousel. Wang and his locker room. But this collection, presented to us in a stark, white space haphazardly filled with balloons and shoes, lives adrift in time in a way that the others do not.

For those who make this world their life, recognizing the age of a collection becomes something of a sport. There are always markers, sometimes deep and sometimes superficial, left behind by the season's dominant trends. Rare is the designer who can avoid them altogether. McCartney herself is susceptible to those shifts as such movement is the inevitable outcome of doing business. The fashion industry is about change, about keeping up and playing that game, and many who cannot keep up are left behind to fail. 

In the five years since the collection’s debut, a lot has happened in my life. I moved home (for the second time) and moved away (for the second time). I toiled for four and a half years in apparel retail. I emotionally grew out of many of the stores that dominated my adolescence. And I came to appreciate clothes not only for their beauty but also for their versatility.

In many ways, we are at peak “personal style”. We Tumbl and Instagram our ensembles. The personal quickly becomes the public and the once unknown become icons. In that world, where things now move more quickly than they ever have, change on top of more change is applauded. And I relish it. I love nothing more than to settle in every season and see what the designers have brought us, what thoughts have left their heads and become reality. To see who has created something magical. And to observe how those invited to take part in the spectacle choose to clothe themselves.

My own style story is written all over this blog. The thawing of my icy hatred of floral prints. My loathing for, and subsequent love of, suits. And here, in one collection of 56 looks, all of that distills down into something manageable. If asked what my personal style is, I can simply point you in this direction. It is deceptive in its simplicity and some might see it at as boring, but I see classics. Pieces that can be worn for years and styled for multiple ages. Items that will become well-loved. 

Even the jumpsuits play a part. They remind me of my mother. Of the photographs that live in our Boston home and contain portraits of her much younger self. Of the feel and the weight and the smell of her clothes, especially the ones that featured so heavily in my early childhood. She has always been much cooler than I. Although they would never be found in my closet, their presence here is a nod to her and to her influence over me. 

Even if that influence did nothing more than produce something of a polar opposite.


Photos via