The Lanvin show was last on yesterday's Paris Fashion Week lineup, and it took a strong second wind for us to strut our jet-lagged selves up to the venue (in the dark, in heels, on cobblestone). We could see the crowd forming from down the block, and it was mostly lookers on attempting to glimpse the front row guests (Solange, Kanye, and a blonde Kim among them). At the first of several check points, people in feathers reached over people in hats, and a few jacquard-jacket clad opportunists made a break for it when the frustrated PR gatekeepers turned their heads momentarily.
There was a whole, as some might call it, hullabaloo: A bit of bustling, a few broken glasses, seat-assignment whining, a paparazzi Kimye shitstorm, and then the real show was ready to begin.
Lanvin fall '15 was everything we put on heels for. No, it was everything we came to Paris for. No, it was everything we got into fashion for. Not only was the cavernous space breathtaking, but there were also waiters with Champagne, proving that there is a divine plan, after all. And, the clothes? Let's just say they accessed that blissful area of our nervous system usually reserved for watching videos of puppies playing.
Once the collection walked, it truly lived up to the space in which the show was held and the crowd that fought to be there. In one sheer patchwork gown, a whole new way of mixing prints was devised. A red, fringe-belted cape dress was topped off with an onyx riding helmet. There were large sequined sweaters to match swoon-worthy knee-high boots. It was drama without being overly dramatic, and exquisite through and through.
When Alber Elbaz took his slow walk down the runway, the crowd exploded in applause. He had given us exactly what we had flown, stumbled, and crowded in to see, which he affirmed with a subtle, knowing bow.
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