Good afternoon, Monday. We had a lovely staycation of a weekend right here in New York and it was just a lovely Fourth. We nested at the Surrey uptown and took in the Jeff Koons show, ate burgers at J.G. Melon, and walked across the park to the Natural History Museum to see my favorite creepy dioramas, dinosaur bones, and of course, a planetarium show. Space, it really is the final frontier (or is it?). I could easily survive on that astronaut ice cream if it was. Good stuff. I know I'm a walking cliche when I talk about how in love with this city I still am, but I really still am. I have my moments like the next girl, but really- the Upper East Side on a pleasant summer weekend is worth its weight in meshugas. I'll take it.
In other news, I had brunch with a friend of mine who was wearing the most amazing ensemble from one of her favorite brands, Electric Feathers. I'm talking a silk pinky/lavender jumpsuit, people. She was not playing. (As for me, I looked disheveled as ever, in my Rag and Bone PJ shorts and favorite vintage throwover toplike object. I need to make more of an effort for realsies). In my neighborhood, people don't dress to impress- in fact, they barely put on a bra. But my girl was bringing some serious look to Cobble Hill on a Sunday, and I was eternally grateful for a bit of inspiration of the fashion variety after such a schleppy weekend (my swiss dot Meg dress did come in mega handy though- it's all about cotton for me this time of year).
So after a few Hound Dogs (bourbon, grapefruit, ginger, lime, and mint= good times), we ended up talking about vintage- my friend has a great eye for such things and our talk turned to Romeo Gigli, whose genius I had somehow forgotten but was so happy to be reminded of. If you are old enough to remember the 90s, you'd know there was more than flannel floating around, and more than my beloved minimalism as well. In the 90s, bands like Portishead and Mazzy Star had us in a moody, dream state that felt narcotic (it was the 90s), ethereal, and otherwordly all at once. For women who liked something romantic and less stark than Helmut Lang and more chic than a daisy aged babydoll dress, there was Romeo Gigli, and though he stopped producing his own line just around 1991 (too many bad licensing deals), I can't help but feel that he influenced a dreamlike place in fashion that was felt for years to come.
BECAUSE THOSE CLOTHES.
It's not hard to get swept up in these looks- if you have ever wanted to pack a bag and make like a czarina drunk on wanderlust, these were your clothes. I love that they are so exotic, so rich, so incredibly romantic. I love how sexy they are despite their volume and chastity. If you were a fan of "The Borgias", you can't help but feel a heavy Italian Renaissance influence here- Gigli's Italian point of view made these clothes so incredibly beautiful and moody in the right way, and his collaboration with Paolo Roversi, the photographer who shot the majority of his ad campaigns, is still one of my favorite collaborations of all time. It's a match made in fashion heaven. And these clothes are to die for- all cocooned, soft, tulip shaped. And how much do I still admire his embrace of women wearing flats? I read in a recent piece about him that he thought it made women walk more softly. I agree. I hate that clomp clomp of heels. Whispering not shouting. Yes please. I remember having a black gauzy dress like the one in the middle above and I adored it. Worn with flats, giant Indian earrings, and a slash of red lipstick, it was one of my favorite pieces.
I sometimes forget that there's a part of me that craves a bit of mystery, a bit of sensuality you can't buy off the rack at Zara. At press time, I've had a time trying to see if Mr. Gigli is still making clothes- I know he did a collection with Hong Kong fashion heavyweight Joyce in 2012, but have not heard if he is still making those gorgeous things. For now, I'm going to be bleary eyed looking for a crimson hued piece of that dream that surely exists in vintage form somewhere online- I loved researching this piece and looking at all of these amazing photos. If you were an art history type in college or beyond, there was no way these clothes did not rock your little post Raphaelite world. Every piece feels like a work of art, a beautiful ode to the female form that still looks so incredible today.
And that, my friends, is what's up on this bit of fashion history kind of Monday in the 212. Class dismissed. Yours, in tulip skirts and worn steamer trunks. XO (More amazing images below). Wherefore art thou, indeed.
