Marc Jacobs, talk of the town
Posted by kcrow February 09, 2008 01:36AM
The Associated Press
Regular attendees of the Marc Jacobs show knew they were in for a surprise when entering the cavernous Armory. The usual rows of bleachers had been been arranged along three sides of a large square stage, with rows of leather banquet seating in front of two of the sides for the celebs and top editors.
A cheerful assistant offered us M&Ms, nuts and popcorn as we entered. Cool Sonic Youth cloth bags where on each seat (gift bags at Marc? Very unusual) -- warming the heart of this reporter, whose iPod sometimes seems to belong to a 1994-era DJ. My seatmate tipped me off that there were tiny bottles of Moet on offer, and I dashed to get a tipple for myself -- thinking I better settle in for the usual long haul of an MJ show.
Jacobs himself dashed out onto the stage several times, admonishing people to get in their seats, because he was ready to start. It caused great laughter and applause, becase Marc's show is so famously late that it's certainly the No. 1 bitch among the over-privileged fashion world. He looked very dapper, very fit and his hair might have been dyed blue -- or perhaps it was the light. Or perhaps it was the mini Moet, which I was downing rather rapidly.
But Jacobs wasn't kidding. At 7:23 -- the earliest start time of any of the 60-odd shows I attended all week -- Sonic Youth came out, took up their guitars and started wailing away. I assumed it was a pre-show concert to keep people entertained, and then the models came out.
In a complete reversal from last season, Jacobs' went prim and covered-up -- long, nearly shapeless coats, slouchy trousers, high-necked tops with serious pleating, almost pad-like, at the shoulders. The palette was muted -- cream, soft pink, ice blue, mint green, heather gray.
Sonic Youth was manic, restless, loud -- Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon must be into their 40s and 50s now, respectively, but they look and sound as good as they ever did -- a sharp contrast to the robotic stillness of the models, with their sleek, severe ponytails and nude-looking faces.
As the models exited the stage, they must have walked up a flight of stairs to a scaffolding bridge over the stage, where they stood, one by one, until the group was complete. No finale run, no chance to see the clothes we missed when we were distracted by the band.
It was a fascinating, memorable show alright, but one that left me filling unsatisfied. There was a sense of removal from the whole proceedings -- all the celeb watching fun of the typical MJ show was abbreviated not only by the quick start time, but from the remove of those banquet tables. From Row 7, the details of the clothes were hard to make out, and again, it's hard to take your eyes away from a magnetic band.
But above all, the show was a talker, the fitting end to a long week of vaguely uninspiring clothes that more often seem to be about styling than true design. And I'm sure a lot of editors missed the show because it started so promptly, giving them a different spin on that MJ bitching.
