The evening looked so promising: First of all, the Luella show was housed in a roomy warehouse away from the tents of Bryant Park. Second, we had high hopes for the show: Jessica owns one of the trenches Luella did for Target earlier this year, and it never fails to get compliments. We hoped that Luella’s (much, much) higher-end line would be similarly quirky and adorable.
Alas, it was not to be, unless you think a rehash of the eighties is either quirky or adorable. Our notes had the following insightful analysis: “Dress covered in pieces of broken mirror = ew.” The problem with the collection was that — despite including a dress that’s going to give you seven years of bad luck — it was actually kind of boring. After all, if you’ve seen one suit covered in big black and white letters, you’ve seen them all. And we saw, like, four of them.
There’s INTERESTING bad, and then there’s BORING bad, and the Luella show was unfortunately the latter. But our jaunt off campus wasn’t a total wash. Patricia Field was not to be missed, as she was wearing a hoodie (with the hood pulled over her head), a pseudo-safari hat (also on her head), a pair of bedazzled sandals, and two pairs of glasses — one on her face, the other perched on the brim of her hat. Sure, she’s crazy, but at least she’s interesting, and we’d be sad if she showed up looking any other way.
Oh! And we had our inaugural Kate Bosworth sighting! In case you’re wondering, the consensus is that she’s pretty in person (like most of them — so annoying) but remains in desperate need of a sandwich.
Not much luck at Phillip Lim’s dim preshow reception, where it was hard enough to see our attractive shoes, let alone any celebrities.
The throng at Chelsea’s Terminal Warehouse killed time before the show by guzzling champagne and sneaking seconds on the mini-cupcakes (when their skinny socialite friends weren’t looking). We ourselves proudly had two. Of everything. The crowd swelled and people grew punchy, presumably aware that if any of the unilluminating votive candles tipped over and ignited the hairspray fumes, we’d all be crispy in seconds. “Cheers,” a woman grumbled to her friend. “I don’t know to what, but I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
And then, like a gossip beacon from Heaven, a camera light brightened the porcelain face of Emmy Rossum. Cheers indeed.
Now, our chief beef with Rossum is that she too often eschews color, choosing white or one of its many cousins to complement a thick layer of face cake on her fair complexion. Tonight was no exception: Her white lacy dress, with a matching bow on the front and tiny black ones on the back, hung a bit loosely around her slim frame and washed out her pretty skin. Pair that with the carefully mature hair, and you get a fresh-faced 20-year-old trying to look 30. And although there’s nothing wrong with 30, we figure a girl should work her quarter-life youthfulness while she can. It’s not often we have to encourage a celebrity to dress down, but there you have it. Get regular, Emmy. You might like it.
As soon as the 7 p.m. show started (at 7:50), it became clear why Rossum was attracted to Lim’s clothes. About 90 percent of what came down the long runway was white or ecru. A lot of it was cute in a floaty, ethereal way, especially an oyster-hued organza blazer and an antique-white handkerchief-collar shift dress. But if Rossum has to walk away with anything, we hope it’s one of the two royal-blue numbers. Not because we loved them so much but because a splash of color a day keeps the Fug Girls away.
Well, slightly farther away, at least.
Browse Luella’s new collection.
Browse Phillip Lim’s new collection.