I love John Galliano about 100 times more than I love Karl Lagerfeld. And I really want to say that this collection totally beat up and black–eyed the Chanel resort collection. But, I have to admit, it was rather dry. Like, with the Chanel collection, I bashed it, but I have to give my buddy Karl a “whoo” for at least trying and not being timid. For the Dior collection, I felt like Galliano turned wimpy on us. Yeah, this is his first cruise collection, but it wasn’t poppin’, yo. It was so Ann Taylor meets American Apparel, eh no “Dior” in there. Like that first white dress, hm, I’ve seen that dress about 50 times. I have that dress, except mine is from Anthropologie and sans that Dior name.. The collection was not barf–quality; everything was really simple and nice nice nice. I liked the way things flowed and everything, except for the tight metallic hot pants, seemed to be loose and really chillaxed. It reminded me of a windy day, probably b/c the flowing and draping going on. I loved the sequining at the bottom of many of the dresses. THAT was pretty wow. Innovative, especially how it is supposed to represent the skyline. And the wigs, the short short ones, “punk rock”? Wowz0rz. Freja Beha with short hair. But ¿dondé está John Galliano? M.I.A. Well, for most of it. The last dress, the closing so–called act, was Galliano–quality. And then Galliano ran out and scared the shit out of me. The image of Galliano in my head was from that one Sasha editorial - a delicate pirate, like a whisper of "yo ho ho'. Not screaming yo ho ho meets male stripper.
Love,
Natski, Sartorial Fascist
