PARIS

By: A journal by stylist Becks Welch | February 17, 2010 | Fashion

DAY 2 — “CREDIT CRUNCH” COUTURE
Sunday, Oct. 4

With a ringing in my head like the shrill of a glass bell that only a night on straight vodka can deliver — nothing was going to stop me from heading to the flea market on the outskirts of Paris. I had agreed to an early morning trip to the market with “Mr. Paris” — the wonderful Christophe Robin, a colorist of exceptional talent (his clients include Carla Bruni and Madonna to name but a few). This was a welcome distraction from my hangover and a means to kill time until the day’s main event — the Viktor & Rolf show at 3 p.m.

Viktor & Rolf is an Amsterdam-based fashion brand that was founded in 1993 by designers Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren. They are most well known for their fantastical and concept-based designs, and for their conceptually driven fashion show presentations. It is always a highlight of every editor’s Fashion Week. The designers tell a story with their creations: Transformation, illusion and empowerment are always a strong underlying themes Characteristics of their clothes include layering, distortion, exaggeration and repetition of classical design elements (for example, a blouse with 10 nested collars, an upside-down and lopsided dress), so it’s not surprising to learn Viktor & Rolf have also worked as curators and participants on various international exhibitions, and have designed costumes for several theater productions — truly blurring the line between art and fashion.

They always have one of the most entertaining and thought-provoking shows of the Paris season. You never quite know what to expect of them, and I didn’t want to miss it! The most memorable pieces for spring were dresses and ball gowns of thickly packed layers of tulle that were cut and sliced — sometimes with circular holes like Swiss cheese, and other times as though a chainsaw cut off half a sponge. They were exercises in geometry and illusion.

They called the show “Credit Crunch Couture” saying they “cut the tulle from their ball gowns to make more tailored tulle gowns.” British singer Roisin Murphy performed on stage wearing what amounted to a cape made from the same multiple layers of tulle — her arms where restricted and she twirled like a miniature ballerina doll in a old jewelry box.

I left the show, and made my way back out into the daylight through the throngs of sunglass-clad fashionistas and editors trying to find their drivers to take them to the next show. I however did not have that luxury, and being that my schedule was not quite so rigorous, I decided to try my hand at traveling on the Paris Metro over to the 6 p.m. Givenchy show.

I was met by my photographer, Tim, outside the entrance to the show at 5:45. We were hoping to snap the Givenchy fans arriving, and we were not disappointed. Minutes before the show started, Carine Roitfeld, editor of French Vogue and Givenchy stalwart, and her daughter, Julia, strutted in dressed head to toe in Givenchy, looking every inch the mother of all that’s French and cool. The show was pitch perfect from start to finish. Almost every garment had an intensity of proportion that looked incredible. From the very first look out — a geometrically striped black-and-white jersey jacket over a graphic, lozenge-fronted top and draped pants — everyone was on high alert, jostling and craning for the best possible view.

Maryam Malakpour commented, “When you see clothes of that quality, suddenly everything in your closet seems like rubbish.” Givenchy designer Riccardo Tisci has moved up to the elite group of designers who matter most in Paris. His work has editors pining to buy and rock stars’ stylists, like Maryam, competing for first dibs.

And then it was over. Off I went, back to my hotel to change and take a nap.

That night was an L.A.-meets-Paris crowd at the incredible Left Bank penthouse (with magnificent views of the City of Light) of entertainment execs Kevin Wendel (creator of the original Beverly Hills 90210 show) and my friend, TV host Mary Alice Haney, welcoming the likes of singer Katy Perry, head of communications for Louis Vuitton Antoine Arnault, fashion designer Yigal Azrouel, the beautiful French actors Helene De Fougerolles and Olivier Martinez. The night roared on, and we all finished up at the old Josephine Baker hangout, and now newly hip-again nightclub, Maxim’s. I was told it’s now the hottest gay club in Paris — quite literally — it’s 80 degrees inside, sweat dripping from the chandeliers, and the most fabulous transvestites boogied alongside 14-year-old French girls until the early hours. J’t’aime Paris!

DAY 3 — SUNSHINE ON A RAINY DAY!
Monday, Oct. 5

I woke up bleary-eyed at 9:30 to a wet Paris morning. I ran out into the rain, dodging umbrellas to get a taxi over to the Stella McCartney show, which was being held at the Palais de Tokyo in the 16th Arrondissement. The tired eyes of the international buyers and fashion editors hidden under dark sunglasses were soon to be woken up by a hit of well-needed color to brighten up the dampest of days.

Stella McCartney is a personal go-to favorite of mine in L.A. for my own celebrity clients. Her clothes work for every occasion and particularly suit the city’s laid-back style. So, I was keen to see what McCartney had created.

For spring, she made a joyous statement on the ease of dressing, which is fast becoming her signature tune. It was as simple as a little printed sundress or a lace halter underneath a menswear jacket or even a flattering neutral-hued trouser that drifted down the catwalk. Then the fun began with bright red, yellow or blue floral and paint-spattered prints on chiffon dresses, which were pleated to curly, stiffened hems that bounced in huge frills off the shoulder and swung sparingly around the girls’ legs — part flamenco, part ’70s hippie chick. The editor sitting next to me mused after the show that it had been one of the most cheerful things seen on the catwalk this week and the perfect antidote to the rain. A colorful depiction of the Arc de Triomphe, by artist Trey Speegle, was painted over the opening of the catwalk with “YES” written across it in big capital letters — and it was just what we were all thinking.
My only show for the day was McCartney’s, so the plan for the rest of the day was to try and get around as many showrooms as possible and keep my new suede Chloe ankle boots dry!

With my trusty photographer in tow, we made a dash around Paris. First stop was to see Tom Binns, the Venice, Calif.-based Irish jeweler. Binn’s jewelry is exceptionally well designed, and he has always been one step ahead of the trends. With his newest collection in Paris, he was showing a series of art pieces — surrealism-inspired jewelry alongside his fashion pieces. I later found out that he plans to devote more of his time to his art, which will be an exciting new addition to the already expanding L.A. art scene.

Next on my list was the showroom of Brit designer Alice Temperley. With the success of her London, New York and now L.A. Melrose Place stores, the brand has matured into a global enterprise. Her spring collection was still true to her British diehard fans, but a definite nod to the American fashion buyers. The less-embellished, bolder prints and red carpet dresses make this, in my opinion, her best yet — with accessories and shoes to die for. Temperley said she wanted to take me to see her friend who was showing a fabulous new shoe collection. Charlotte Olympia, who I was already familiar with, was showcasing her ’40s-inspired shoes just around the corner. Olympia confided that she wants to start selling in L.A. very soon, and was looking for representation. I am already a fan, and have no doubt her shoes will soon be seen walking down red carpets all over town!

As luck would have it, my next meeting happened to be in the same building, so I was only a few minutes late for Greg Chait, the Venice, Calif.-based designer and brains behind the über luxurious cashmere brand The Elder Statesman. Chait showed me his newest cashmere handspun trousers (Mario Testino just placed a big order), which are already stocking in high-end selected boutiques around the states, including Maxfields in Malibu.
The last appointment of the day was with my new friends, Maryam and Marjan Malakpour. When I arrived, the girls were giddy with excitement. They had just had a very successful meeting with the Net-a-Porter.com people, who couldn’t order enough of their fabulous new flat. The shoes are a new twist on the essential ballet flat, but these have more of a Moroccan flavor, with a super-chic edge. The best bit is they are insanely comfortable. We chatted, and I tried on the shoes; as corny as it sounds, I felt instantly in love. I couldn’t take mine off. They let me keep them, and handed me the matching pouch, so when I want to switch back to my heels, I can slip them into my handbag — genius! I think we can expect to see these on every self-respecting shoe guru come spring. (They are also selling at Maxfields.)

At 6:30, I got back to the hotel, tired but satisfied with my day’s endeavors. I planned to take a nap and meet up with Alice Temperley and her friends for dinner that evening at the infamous café Marley next to the Louvre. I arrived 40 minutes late (more on that in a bit), and when I got there, the Temperley sisters were already there, as was Zanna Roberts, the fashion editor of Marie Claire, Charlotte Olympia, and Brit model and Londoner Laura Bailey. When I explained where I’d just been, all was forgiven. I was whisked away to the Guy Bourdin: Polaroids exhibit with Paula Thomas, and told them about the sexy, erotic, but incredibly cool installations, which I thought could make a great way to show Temperley’s next collection. She is one of the first designers to turn her back on the conventional runway-show format and opt for a video presentation instead, which I think is smart. It reduces the cost, you can do something really creative with it, and you’re able to take the presentation to the press and buyers anywhere in the world. It’s a trend I think we will start to see more of.

As is always the case in Paris, the party never ends, and once the last drop of red wine was squeezed from the bottle, my dinner companions and I decided to leave and head to a secret party across town.

Derek Blasberg, the new king of the New York party scene, was throwing the Paris week party. As tired as I was, I followed the gang into the secret club and over to the VIP booths filled with a crush of London’s hip fashion crowd. We partied hard, and at 6 a.m. I pulled my Newbark Cinderella slippers out my purse and hot-footed it home to bed.

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