Fall Follies : Nothing against rubberized gym wear and satin dance dresses, but what’s a grown woman supposed to wear to work? Maybe an impeccably tailored suit or all-American sportswear by local hero Richard Tyler.
NEW YORK — The fall shows that ended here Wednesday won’t go down in history as a compendium of the most uninspired, sleazy and at times absurd fashions, but not for designers’ lack of trying.
Never have designers dithered so much over hemlines and silhouettes and fabrics--will neoprene ball gowns herald the new millennium?--only to come up with solutions that grown-up, modern women have no earthly use for.
Even more incomprehensible was how the front-row fashion dragons in their dark, prim suits and sensible pumps could embrace crotch-high skirts or dowdy, just-below-the-knee styles that made Kate Moss look like a PTA president; Day Glo-bright fake fur; slutty schoolgirl outfits (shrunken mohair sweaters, tiny plaid kilts and over-the-knee stockings) and spike-heeled high boots that haven’t been seen since “Barbarella.â€
As conceived by Seventh Avenue, the new fall woman eschews broad-shouldered tailored suits like those worn by her husband for babyish sweater dresses appropriate for her preteen daughter. She adores plaids, pin stripes and very bright orange. She has clothes for every occasion--skintight rubberized gym wear, ski caps and shearling coats, flippy satin dance dresses--but hardly anything to wear to work.
Some of the more outrageous numbers, of course, evaporate after their 15 minutes of runway fame. They’re served up to amuse and titillate the audience and reap reams of publicity. Veteran fashion hounds know that those tiny, sawed-off skirts and some of those shrunken sweaters will grow a few inches before being shipped to stores.
“We know to take what’s on the runway with a grain of salt,†said Joan Kaner, senior vice president and fashion director of Neiman Marcus. “After one of the coldest winters on record, do you really think stores are going to endorse little skirts and bare legs?â€
If there was one designer to write home about in a week of disappointments, it was Richard Tyler, who, next to Mel Gibson, is probably the best thing Australia ever exported.
Both his Anne Klein and signature collections solidified his reputation, not just as a superb tailor but as a designer with a clear, distinctive vision. His clothes were lean, young, thoroughly contemporary and a touch romantic.
Tyler’s Anne Klein line epitomized snappy, all-American sportswear, with its medley of textures--pebbly knits, gauzy wools, Ultrasuede and velvet--and streamlined silhouettes that emphasized narrow, fitted jackets over tapered pants or little flared skirts.
His spare, fitted suits (whose jackets were a tad shorter this season) and deep-hued, autumn palette of charcoal, brown and loden were enlivened by little details, such as Tyrolean embroidery or shearling collars and cuffs.
Compared to his Anne Klein line, Tyler’s eponymous collection was less sporty, more expensive and filled with such sybaritic fabrics as cashmere and brocade. It offered the same controlled tailoring, but with a bit more romance.
An opening series of military-style, olive-drab shirt-dresses and officer’s jackets, accessorized with jaunty caps and riding boots, gave way to the frock coats, patterned vests and jodhpurs that dominated the collection.
Outfits were assembled in tranquil, muted colors--misty gray, mocha, celadon--and myriad textures: A pale pink wool riding jacket was paired with a deep rose brocade vest, a soft green chiffon blouse and olive jodhpurs.
Less satisfying were the evening styles by the designer, who divides his time between New York and Los Angeles. They included bias-cut satin slip dresses and embroidered bathrobe coats that summoned visions of Jean Harlow. But a simple black velvet dress with a fishtail train was a knockout.
Ralph Lauren’s wholesale pillage of English history, from King Arthur’s court to Edwardian country manors, was a regrettable example of how a talented designer can cross the line that separates clothes from costumes.
One more velvet tunic embroidered with a gold cross, one more stiff white Edwardian ruff and one more jacket shaped to look like medieval armor would have been one too many.
Lauren succeeded when he stopped rummaging through the ancestral attic and concentrated on the refined, classic sportswear that put him on the map. In this category would be his little kilts in lush plaid mohair, his impeccably cut tweed riding jackets and tailored pantsuits, his angora sweaters, and some of the best brass-buttoned coats around.
No one would have been surprised to see tears trickle down the cheeks of the pale, frail models who padded down the runway in Calvin Klein’s dark, minimalist collection, which was given a polite, if unenthusiastic, reception by a puzzled audience.
The show’s big shocker was the hemlines on shifts or empire dresses and pleated skirts that hovered around the knee or a mite below. Klein was on the right track in lowering hemlines--if skirts get any shorter they’ll wind up as belts--but why he chose the dowdy length favored by middle-aged matrons is mystifying.
There were some lovely pea jackets and camel coats and a few stunning navy pantsuits. But how one longed for them to be in gentler colors, with just a whimsical detail or accessory to lighten things up and make the models look fresh and beautiful, like they used to in Klein’s shows.
Donna Karan’s best idea was to enlist a variety of models--Veruschka, Patti Hansen, Isabella Rossellini, fortysomethings Dayle Haddon and Beverly Johnson, plus the usual youth brigade--for the final show of the week.
Her worst idea was to outfit them in her fall collection. Its key look was a black satin “Butterfield 8†slip dress throbbing beneath a black leather trench coat. Sheer black stockings, spike-heeled shoe-boots and a tough, don’t-mess-with-me expression completed the picture.
Donna, Donna, Donna, how could you? Is this the same designer who gave us the jersey bodysuit, the sexy sarong skirt, all the modern, streamlined separates? The Donna who liberated executive women from their Mildred Pierce uniforms? Who now espouses tight jersey skirts teamed with see-through bodysuits revealing lacy, uplift bras? Or hot-colored angora suits that cling to every curve?
More sedate were Karan’s new asymmetrical wrap dresses. They dipped in pointy folds on the sides, looking somewhat busy and awkward, but won points for being wool, not satin and lace.
