I call this collection, “Mary Pimpins.”
Here’s the thing about Marc Jacobs, for me: Frankly, I often look at his stuff, like this show, and think, “Man, that was probably fun to watch, but those hats are HILARIOUSLY CRACKED OUT.” Full marks to him for that — a fashion show at its best should be equal parts fun and captivating and challenging, and whether you love or hate the clothes, Jacobs’ shows as a moving, breathing art installation are always a spectacle to behold. And obviously we’re not meant to lift this look and place it out of context onto the street, or take it literally; it’s more about the pattern here, the cut of the coat there, the colors everywhere. But it’s just amusing to me that every time we come to Fashion Week, it feels like people are increasingly reluctant or unable to offer any actual criticism of it — I mean, he could send girls down the catwalk in clothes made of peanut shells, and inevitably people would be like, “It’s an intricately woven quilt of Babar the Elephant and Mr. Peanut and dystopian allegory in Charles Schultz with a whimsical nod to The Peanut Allergy Answer Book!” Which may be why he goes big every time — people don’t really quite know how to parse it, so they just throw in a lot of adjectives in sentences that ultimately don’t actually say anything. Kind of like I am.
He sent fifty-five looks down the runway; we figure, anyone that desperate to see ALL of them probably already did, but I am too indecisive to distill it to two. So I went halfway. And whether you think it’s aspirational or a brilliant fantasy or a crackfest — there are arguments for all, I suspect — I think you will enjoy it. Have fun.