Harvey Weinstein is casually chatting away with Rihanna as five Eastern European sirens pose for a photo op. Rumors fly, Jessica Alba is in the house. Is that Emma Roberts? China doll beauties surround us, one wearing a short veil, studded with small blue blossoms, another with a six strand pearl choker that rises up her neck. Italian women looking like princesses, Americans like fashion iconics, Russians like stars. We are in a sea of luxury, from bags to shoes to furs to dresses, each woman looking more stunning than the next; cream colored lace, black silk, blue fox, silver moiré in a rainbow of colors.
The enormous white tent is packed; colorful, geometric lights creating a visual buzz, the heat of our bodies warming the space despite a rain sodden winter sky beyond the thin canvas. The lights dim, casting a blue tone an expectant hush over this unique privileged world, the world of Dior.
A sudden shock of white light, with a jolt of techno music and the models begin to pour in… the lines are pure, with gentle curves that make even these too-thin, androgynous girls look like women. The first pieces are in muted tones, necklines low, an asymmetrical detail here, a splash of color there. Jackets are tied up in wide laces running up the side, down the back. These are the power suits of the 20 teens. 55 outfits plod past, worn by serious, intent women, their hair slicked back, hanging straight and long down their backs; a series of astrahkan coats one in a grey so lustrous it evoked rich, opulent pearls. And then a burst of powerful color as a bright yellow, vivid blue and dramatic fuschia bring a illicit a twitter, instagram, and vine excitement from the crowd.
As the last model steps behind the podium, the rest file back out, a fashion parade celebrating Fall-WInter 2014-15 and the talent of Monsieur Raf Simons, a man who understands where women want to be, tomorrow.
A special thank you to the stunning Cindy Jones, for inviting me to be her guest and making another of this girl’s dreams come true.