Super SonicWednesday, October 8 2014
Despite a hectic schedule calling me back to London, I decided to extend my Parisian adventure by a few days, partly because la famille finds it deeply offensive when I come without carving out proper home-time (which is perfectly impossible while the shows are running); and partly because I hadn’t really done anything besides galivanting between the Palais de Tokyo and the Tuileries (or the Silencio and La Belle Epoque after sundown), which is all very well and fashion girl worthy, but hardly counts for much in a city fit to burst with cultural must-do’s.
So I took a raincheck on dinner plans in London town, and went instead on a second date with Monsieur Slimane. And I must confess that his black and white studio portraits of rock icons went down much better than his wardrobe submission for Britney Spears’ Pieces of Me gig. That was who he was designing for, right? No offence to the Queen of Pop, but the only way you would ever get me into alow-cut, studded leather jumpsuit paired with a leopard-print biker and top hat was if I was headlining a career saving (read: bankrupt bail out) come-back in Vegas.
Yet his gritty, caption-less interpretations of the usual suspects, Amy Whinehouse, Lou Reed, and Keith Richards, for all their debauched cliche-ness, worked just fine for me.
Perhaps it was the execution—the super, err, S E X Y, styling—that lost me at hello on showday, forthe meticulous minimalism displayed at The Fondation Bergé encompassed everything I have always admired in Slimane: intuitive, cool, with a large dollop of OCD perfectionism. A must-see.