Favorite of the Day: Preen

I was feeling a bit of exhaustion after the end of the New York season. It's a fairly normal occurrence for me. After sifting through so many looks in that many shows, I can't help but feel a bit muddled. But this time the fatigue was laced with weariness brought on by a season that inspired only sporadic excitement. Perhaps unfairly some of that feeling bled into my thoughts as the proceedings moved to London. It wasn't until the third day, and the Preen collection, that I was finally shaken free of it.

Preen did what it, and London, do best. Prints. Patterns. Combinations of the two. Here and there you could see the athletic thread that remains a force in the industry. Details that called to mind the collars and cuffs of letterman jackets. A callback to a classic tennis dress.

But it was never too much.


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Favorite of the Day: Michael Kors

The fact that I often love Michael Kors and his take on preppy, American sportswear shouldn't surprise you, but the fact that I have chosen it as one of my favorites might. The collections are consistently pretty and wearable but I often get distracted by something that lives closer to the extremes.

But this season I've been longing for a breath of fresh air. For a collection that didn't revel in carefully constructed nothingness.

And this preppy, American sportswear provided just that.


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Favorite of the Day: Carolina Herrera

Child Samantha was always drawn to the "pretty pretty". The big skirts. The sweeping trains. Adult Samantha isn't as easily impressed by such things. But there are some designers who do that work so well, who can still draw out my slumbering love for drama.

Carolina Herrera produces those types of ensembles every season, but in the midst of a season of black and white and utility they stood out even more than usual. Not just for their beauty, because so many of the clothes presented during this week are beautiful, but for the way that they spoke to one another.

Everything felt connected. Each piece told one part of the same story.

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Favorite of the Day: Alexander Wang

New York Fashion Week is at the halfway mark, and I find myself bored. Everything started to bleed together almost from the beginning, and it's been hard to become excited by collection after collection of the same old thing. But the Alexander Wang show provided me with a jolt.

I watched the livestream in my room and found myself standing up. Bouncing around. Dancing to the music. The clothes were thrilling. The girls sped down the runway. He was playing with the prevalent sporting motif but that has always been his wheelhouse, and unlike most others he continues to provide fresh takes on it. These were not off-duty yoga looks, devoid of shape or life. 

They were sharp and tailored and hard and sexy. 

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Favorite of the Day: Tomas Maier

New York Fashion Week started fully yesterday and as editors and buyers and bloggers wandered the city covered in the latest trends, I observed all of the goings on from afar. When it comes to my personal style, I've settled into a life that has become less and less concerned with those ups and downs.

Marveling at things I only see working on others is second nature at this point, but I still love a collection that I can imagine living my life in. And on day two, Tomas Maier presented exactly that.

It was a perfect slice of Samantha through and through.

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Favorite of the Day: Whit

Even on the day of its soft opening, it was already obvious in what direction the Spring/Summer 2015 season in New York would be moving. But because it was so early, I decided to ignore all of that. The prevailing winds and the dominating trends. Instead I relished the simple joy found in the best types of summer clothing, which were all on display at Whit. Vibrant and light and playful. Maybe moving west has made me a breezier person.

Or maybe it's just made me more accepting of breezier sensibilities.


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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.


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