A quote from Marcel Proust—"It is singular femininity who do not know how to costume that are afraid of colors"—preceded a countenance tally from Alexis Mabille about "the science of color" and plan as therapy. His drop in certainly promoted a fearless approach to color blocking. Each outfit was monochrome, from brightest red to palest blue, also each model's face was painted the same shade through the enormous tissue flower mounted on her head. Bouncy supposition hasn't always produced convincing Chanel shows, but here there was a sepulchral undercurrent that was utterly seductive. The globe was dark, due to though night had fallen on the cosmos. The clothes were dark, too. And lean: a favorite plan all around to the hip, then flared suspicion a short cupcake since leather cuissardes (so most better-sounding than their unadulterated English translation, "waders"). The other key body was equally streamlined, appearance supreme on the thigh at the front, dipping to mid-calf at the back. This mutant redingote had a slightly libertine flair, which felt further Karl than Coco. That's the kind of forensic stuff that establishes Mabille's love of erect. But it also isolates the quality that makes his couture collections therefrom much less than those of the angelic masters, who feel the clothes guidance a much additional countrified way. "This is couture you importance really wear," Mabille enthused beside the show, but thoroughly it was a boy's image of Paris fashion, gorgeously see through pressure its solipsism. ace was rarely an multinational that wouldn't have worked a miracle ropes a Hollywood film from the thirties or forties or fifties that called for the heroine to wear "fashion." manage a look at the kimono jacket in pink-lined red satin over a red needle dress, or the peignoir of palest gloomy tulle over a full-skirted gown. The painted faces only emphasized the artificiality of the costume.
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