Wild things went down at PFW this week. By wild I mean, perfect silhouettes, come-hither lace, and may I win the lottery so I can cuddle myself up in spotted fur coats eternally and never endure a painful polar vortex again. Ever.
Everyone killed it on the runway. So much so that I had to include two separate Valentino collages because the long, flowy dresses were not comparable to the shorter, thigh-baring ones, and it wouldn’t be fair to make selections–a process that gave me a brief stint of anxiety. So there you have it, the long and the short.
Sacai. What’s a North Face? If only I had that coat for my Wisconsin years, I can almost guarantee I wouldn’t have gotten pneumonia in October. (Yes, it’s true. You know, George Washington and I…pneumonia buds.)
Leonard. I’m going to Pier 1 imports soon to buy a glass case for the work of art that is that middle dress. That, or a life-size vase.
Giambattista Vali. Feminine, lace, floral, fur and legs. I’ll take all, giraffe legs included please.
Saint Laurent. Team Heidi in the prints department. I’m still dreaming of the lips from the last collection, but metallic guns? I’ll take those too. Mixing leopard and tartan? Get at me. Spotted fur? Don’t get me started.
Isabel Marant. Never ceases to amaze me with that je-ne-sais-quoi about her aura and collections. Her pieces always have that cool French girl thing going on–I’ll take it.
Elie Saab. If you promised me I was finding a husband at some point and time, I would start saving up for a year-long juice cleanse and an Elie Saab dress. We’re talking RTW up here and he still kills it. But when he works his haute couture magic, I’m always speechless.
All images via Style.com