I sincerely love a Sonia Rykiel show: the shoes are always wondrous, the colours, the left bank sense of fun with glamour: girls swaying in feathers in furry clogs, high five-ing down the runway, Love…
Galliano was a visual feast, totally Tamara: he took us on a journey of trials, travels and traversed the Himalayas, the Hindu Kush: from the spice roads we went to the east of the sun, west of the moon… He also showed us how great he is as a stylist, let alone as a designer, total inspiration.
The girls walked through sprays of silver glitter; John as the finale, came through seering white light, designer as devil or hero, he walked towards orange fire, posed, captured our imaginations and vanished. Given his warm layers of sheepkin, wool and backpack at least one of us was dressed for the freezing weather which hit Paris this week!..
Imagine existing inside a Watteau painting with 7* service and culinary delights where sandalwood ice-cream coexists with thinly grated apple and ginger in the thinnest layer of pastry. That was the dinner I enjoyed with my friend Konca at the Grand Vefour: http://www.grand-vefour.com/fr/restaurant.htm The considered absolutist chic quintessence of Parisian society was at it’s zenith. There was more service, more grandeur and more is more decoration than anyone could ever indulge without slightly falling in love with it, however totally refined it is, there is such grace in it’s fabulosity, that even when I ordered off-menu a salad, the result was so utterly beautiful, artful and delicious, it was a moment of baroque heaven. Built in 1760, the Grand Vefour is one of the world’s first restaurants: Napoleon took Josephine, Colette ate there (which as I am reading ‘The Vagabond’, in honour of Ellie) seemed wholly appropriate. Visual artful 3D gourmand-luxe heaven.
Photos I don’t have from this week, include the sheer clever joy that was the Victor and Rolf show, they really showed us how it’s done. The Hussein show with his moving speech for Alexander, followed by Puritan caps and camel coloured capes with grey lining, worn with matching fedoras – a style I have been wearing this week myself. The party at Maxims where my New Yorker friends lost themselves in the 80’s disco groove. The Vogue Turkey party at the Crillon, where I caught up with dear friends from the Fatherland: albeit feeling rather underdressed, as I had put on all my warm clothes at once to go to Givenchy, as Paris is brrr-freezing. I hope my shalwa joggers, Westwood boots, Marni jacket and Bora Aksu snood still managed to represent – I did love Catherine’s gold lame turban, Karen’s killer heels, Seda’s sassy red dress and Konca’s peach jacket. The basement baseline Ricardo Tisci party: it was brilliant to see Charlotte Tilbury again, looking uber-hot beyond yummy-mummydom, showing us photos of her handsome baby son; where shoulder to shoulder glamour bumped with Olivier’s camera flash, low-key hiphop heroes. Meeting Polina was lovely: we drank Japanese tea and paid homage to CC.
This is an inspiring season: the stark shapes with pared down strength: I am totally looking forward to my shoots this season.