C’est Celine

I don’t need to reiterate the ‘big’ story that has come out of this A/W 10-11 season.  Supposedly, we’re all simultaneously growing up into our 30s, we’re all looking to minimise, pare down, clean up and go for head to toe simplicity.  This ‘new minimalism’ we’re talking about seems to have been taken at complete face value which is quite hilarious to think that come September, all ruffles, prints, shapes and frou frou will be completely shed in one sweeping action to be replaced by this so-called ‘new minimalism’.

As a firm believer in maximalist dressing, you’re probably thinking, “Well of course, Susie is going to be pooping all over these clean lines.”  Actually au contrarie.  Let’s talk about the subject in the post title‚ with the obvious instigator of all of this minimalist talk.  On the day of the Celine show as I had been given a seat at the very last minute, I legged it over to the way far out venue, getting lost with my taxi driver half way through only to find that I was two minutes late and the doors had shut.  I think I may have had a pathetic moment of crying outside a show.  Well, not all-out wailing but more like a shaky tear or two.  Saaaaaad‚ I tells ya…

I never got to say it last time round because I don’t tend to review shows one on one unless I had actually experienced some pinnacle moment of joy, but the seeds that Phoebe Philo had sown into her first proper debut for Celine were truly invigorating.  Hey I’m not afraid to admit sheep-like tendencies and say that like droves of other women (and men?), that the refresher course through clean lines and slickness last season did well and truly make me think.  That would explain the sad and pathetic tears seen somewhere in the 16th arrodissement surrounded by sniggering chauffeurs and photographers.

This time round, I had the advantage of a reseeeeeeee (well, actually just a ‘see’ seeing as I never saw the show…) to make up for the fact that I stoooopidly missed the show and in any case, if we are pimping out that whole minimal spiel, then it’s also clear that these are the type of clothes that need to be touched in person to get to grips with why they’re so fantastic.  So yes, it goes without saying that all the fabrics, the cuts and the little details such as the rounded rectangular pockets placed just so, as well as the abundance of NAVY were all supremely impressive.  All of that seems like wasted prose.  My little diversion though is that whilst I admire Philo’s philosophy (more about that later when I review…eeek…the debut issue of The Gentlewoman), is that I can’t possibly believe that any want of frivolity will disappear completely.  It seemed to me more apparent that rather than cleaning up your whole silhouette from head to toe, that this so-called ‘minimalism’ is more about high-quality, stunningly simple items that are easier to incorporate and slot into your existing wardrobe.  It’s with this attitude that I go to Celine with enthusiasm over the possibility of chucking a leather wraparound tulip skirt over riveted leggings or a sheepskin coat with gold clasps over a tiered fringe dress for a texture clash.  The lace blouse with stand-away patch pockets in my head has already taken shape with neon underwear as a base.  This may be a case of wanting too much; to mix min and max in a blasphemous move.  Everybody may be joining the to to worship at the church of Philo but I’ll hang around outside the gates, loitering around with my dirty inner spirit that clamours for ribbons, ruffles, prints, pleats and all that fuss.

**EDIT** I’ve had to remove all personal snaps of showroom resees alas… APOLOGIES for the big blank space that I might replace later on with err…. better images that don’t anger the peeps at LVMH…