Ah mon dieu! Are those rabbit ears I spy? You can always depend on the ever show-stopping, ever extortionately overpriced Louis Vuitton to reinvent itself once again. You may blame our little Louis for forgetting his routes somewhere along the lines of attempting to hook the precocious youth of Knightsbridge and Kanye West alike, however, I'll be the first to surrender and admit, I actually like the direction we're heading for once.
Delicately sordid ruffles and mini-mini skirts made from copious bounds of billowing silk and lace, encapsulate a twisted Parisians (what are the French, if not twisted?) version of the Playboy bunny. Similarities evident in many guises; for one, the sickly, schoolgirl-sweet pinks used to swathe the coquettish models as they practically skip down the runway (it would be impossible for one to not skip down the Champs Elysees, when you are bundled into a package complete with enough decadence to drown Louis XIV). The second, is in the macabre twist the pieces evoke - the raw sexuality of the collection - just enough to get the gentlemen in the front row sweating in their seats at the Lolita's strutting down the runway - "Thats a little short, is she wearing anything underneath?" "The lace bustier is completely see-through!" "How old are these models anyway?". Of course, all of these worries are meaningless in the world of cutting-edge couture, anything goes. But it does add a little fun and frivolity to the situation, doesn't it? Cheeky - why can I not find a more appropriate adjective to lumber the Autumn/Winter 09 collection with?! It deserves more! Grandeur! Applause! Feathers! Wigs!
I want it. I want it all and I want to wear it on the Eiffel Tower, eating croissant and frogs legs, smoking cigarettes, drinking cups of black coffee and reprimanding Britain's dismal economic state. And wearing rabbit ears. Apparently. Obviously I am suffering from psychotic Francophelia, and am currently undergoing treatment somewhere in the East Midlands. Oh and I want wispy, candyfloss hair like Lily Donaldson. Damn you Vuitton. I have a French soul. Perhaps I was switched at birth?
Back to the clothes. Frills, runches, ribbons on shoes (infact, ribbons everywhere, one ribbon does not a Louis Vuitton suit make in 2009)? It should all be ridiculous and frivilous to my minimalist, American Apparel, clean cut, white shirt and blue jeans wearing self! But somehow, and I have positively zero recollection as to why, I have fallen in adoration with pink, satin, tulle and corsets once more. Chic, stripy, leather, gaunt Breton girls, BEGONE! You have been trumped by the voluptuous decadence of the Vuitton babes. Right now, its all about meringue, whipped creams and wild strawberries!
And on a last note, di-VINE or what?
Eugh, my worst fear has been realised. Girly? Most surely not...
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