RSSAt the same time Replica Handbags fit beautifully
13 May 2010 No Comments
I never liked – never even tried on – Mulberry Wallets because of Winona Ryder and Sofia Coppola. Here’s how my neurosis works: I hated Ms. Ryder in “The House of the Spirits,” “Little Women,” “Alien: Resurrection” and “Girl, Interrupted.” Her characters were generally timid, insipid little things whose coyness and enforced waifishness made my skin crawl. As for Ms. Coppola, I hated “Lost in Translation,” an admission that no doubt guarantees my exile from hipster America forever.
Of course Ms. Coppola and Ms. Ryder have been two of Mr. Jacobs’s “Thomas Wylde Handbags” – a muse, in their cases, being a famous attractive person who can star in ad campaigns. And while we’re on the subject, I hate the ad campaigns, too, hate the faux-realist images by Juergen Teller and all their premeditated mundanity and carefully designed overexposure.
Last week I wandered downtown on one of the steamiest days of the year, primed for a debacle. Not only was I predisposed to hate the clothes, but the fall 2005 collection was savaged by many fashion critics as too dark, too funky. (And his runway show famously started two hours late.) There were too many baggy skirts and big Yves Saint Laurent Handbags and too few of the sophisticated, sleek urban pieces Mr. Jacobs had favored in the past.
At 11 a.m. I knocked on the large wooden door of the store on Mercer Street – I had arrived at opening time – and was admitted by a smiling young woman with a dazzling shock of orange hair. For eight years the Mercer Street store has carried Mr. Jacobs’s signature collection. Two boutiques on Bleecker Street sell his less expensive Marc by Marc Jacobs line. The Mont Blanc Wallets is airy and light. About a third of the space is given over to men’s pieces. I liked the men’s cable-knit cashmere sweater with a shawl collar. It was very professorial, but at $2,345, no professor I know could afford it. The orange-haired saleswoman let me be, and I wandered to the women’s clothes.
They were – I was shocked – really beautifully made clothes. Elegant and bright and polished. Some of what might have been the more controversial runway pieces – the long skirts that were more or less egg-shaped and which had prompted some critics to describe the line as the “pod people” collection – were nowhere in sight. Nor did I see the oversize floral-print dress with ruffles, which Mr. Jacobs showed with patent leather Mary Janes, and which, if it ever makes Designer Replica Handbags onto the body of an actual celebrity, will appear in Us Weekly’s Fashion Police column along with a comment like “I liked this better the first time I saw it as a Ramada Inn bedspread.”
There were some pieces that had been criticized as slightly outlandish – a taupe-ivory tweed skirt with black ribbon detail, for instance – which was thought to be unnecessarily voluminous. When I tried Fake Handbags on, I saw that voluminous and outlandish on a runway model looks about right on city streets. Cropped metallic tweed jackets with three-quarter sleeves reminded me of the Los Angeles designer Barbara Tfank’s short jackets made from vintage fabric: the combination of tweed and metallic threads is prim but sexy, very Eva Marie Saint in “North by Northwest.”
Vogue reported that the collection was inspired by the Tim Burton film “Nightmare Before Christmas” and the gloomy character Violet from “The Incredibles.” If that’s the case, then a sleeveless wool dress in black and gray and blue was the superheroine dress. It was streamlined and slender, with a brilliantly colored panel flouncing out from the hip. I wanted to try it on, examine the seams, feel the smooth wool.
The saleswoman appeared and looked me coolly up and down. “So, you’re a size 2?” she said. Well, that was better than the Friday night last summer when I got carded at a T.G.I. Friday’s in New Hampshire. I tried on a size 8. At $2,500 it tipped the scales of financial propriety. At the same time Replica Handbags fit beautifully. I put it on hold. (Wishful thinking.) A low table of accessories, long Mr. Jacobs’s strong suit, beckoned. Although I can picture someone throwing a fur stole ($1,500) over her shoulders, I can’t imagine anyone wearing one of the huge hats with earflaps without looking like a giant hirsute Q-tip. On the wall rows of shoes and handbags were theatrically lighted.
On a sweltering August day I didn’t expect to see many other customers, but two young women who seemed to know every item in the store walked in and gazed at a pair of velvet peep-toe pumps (very popular and already selling out) with intense longing. A new series of handbags is quilted in the style of Chanel; the small quilted version has a gold chain handle. Hello, Coco. It sells for $725. A bright turquoise-green alligator bag was about $4,000.
“And it’s great because that’s the natural color of the alligator itself,” a salesman joked. The most expensive purse wasn’t even on display. The saleswoman brought Louis Vuitton Handbags out for me: in purple python, it sells for $9,000. I did buy a Venetia satchel, at $975, in taupe with a bright pink suede lining, as a long overdue thank-you present for a friend. (I owed big thanks.) The cheerful saleswoman wrapped it up in a large hatbox as Elvis Costello sang, “What’s so funny ’bout peace, love and understanding?” I may have to watch “Lost in Translation” again.
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