An American in Paris

I have a tremendous amount of respect for Marvin Traub, the former chairman of Bloomingdale's. But I freely admit that the driving force behind my race against the clock to get to his book party was the fact that it was held at the residence of Craig Stapleton, the American ambassador to France. Swanky, eh?

The party ended at 8 p.m. and I was checking my watch and hyperventilating in traffic because I wanted to be able to sip champagne and nibble an hors d'oeuvre or two in the historical rooms of the residence.

I arrived at about 7:30 and passed through the metal detector. I was expecting more security, but a nod to the guards and a flash of an e-mailed copy of the invitation was enough to get me in the door. The place is a study in high ceilings, gilding and photographs of assorted Bush family members. There is even a rather large photo of a stiff-looking George W. Bush in one of the rooms that reminds me of the kind of picture that might come with the frame. Nothing much personal about it.

There were multiple bars serving champagne and tasty hors d'oeuvres, including chocolate petit fours topped with edible gold leaf. I grabbed a couple of napkins embossed with "United States of America" and stuffed them into my bag. After all, how often do you get to go to the Ambassador's pad? I was tempted to try and find the bathroom and check out the medicine cabinet. (Just kidding.)

As I was leaving, I received a copy of Traub's book, which is called "Like No Other Career." Since leaving Bloomie's, Traub has created an investment group, served as a consultant and generally been a wise man in the fashion business. In return for getting to snoop around the Ambassador's residence, I promise to read the book.

Plans Go Awry

Sometimes the best organized schedule goes awry. I had every intention of getting to the Sonia Rykiel 40th anniversary show this evening... even though it was on the outskirts of Paris and scheduled to begin at 10:30 p.m. Why? Because I am an intrepid reporter. But alas, tardy shows and writing duties got in the way.

So here I am, with nothing to tell you other than the macaroons at the Dries Van Noten show this afternoon were especially splendid. I did hear that one editor at the show was so moved that she went immediately to the Dries store to buy a dress. Didn't matter that she was actually swooning over the spring 2009 collection. She apparently needed a Dries fix right away.

A Thai princess at the Givenchy show in Paris.

The Givenchy show was this evening and I will be telling you all about that in a story scheduled to run on Friday. But I will say now that I'm worried that the really splendid collection the designer had for fall 2008 was some sort of aberration. His inspiration for spring was cowboys and the West and, well, I just would have thought there might have been one person on the Givenchy design team who might have spoken up and said that perhaps it was a bad idea, that it was a stretch for a brand founded on principles such as urbane chicness and little black dresses. But I just report on this stuff. I'm not sketching and draping.

While at the show, I kept staring at the LVMH executives in the house. That's the parent company. I was trying to see if they would drop that look of "Isn't it just splendid" to reveal some sense that they understood how hard it was going to be to peddle this stuff at a sorry economic time like this. But they maintained their poker faces. Is there some sort of drug that can plaster a poker face on your mug? Is there a pill? Because heaven knows I need to take it. I find it hard to mask my dismay when a model comes marching down the runway with a big acrylic bow on the top of her head. Wha???

The audience was a dreamscape of kookiness, by the way. My favorite was the woman in the forest green patent leather dress and dangerously high heels. She was a walking fetish. How do you maneuver in a patent leather dress without creaking?

Also at Givenchy was a very pretty woman in a fuchsia satin dress and jeweled shoes. I was told by the PR rep at Givenchy that she was a Thai princess. It's not often that I'm in the presence of royalty - the real kind, not the attitudinal kind - so I figured I'd record the moment. If I were royal, I'm not sure I'd be shopping the Paris runways for faux chaps a la Givenchy. But maybe there's some Thai tradition that requires high-priced cowboy gear that I don't know about.

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All Quiet in Paris

Oh how I wish I could tell you about the cocktail party for Derek Lam or the Bulgari store opening, all of which occured over the last couple of days. But no, I was shuttered in my room writing or sitting on a bleacher waiting for the terribly tardy Martin Margiela show to begin. So much champagne that got away from me.

There was champagne at the Margiela show. But since the house is known for its rot-gut wine, I had a sneaking suspicion that its champagne would not exactly be Perrier Jouet. And I was right. Whoever heard of bad champagne? Ce n'est pas possible! But oui, mes amis. It was swill.

At the Martin Margiela show in Paris.

The house celebrated its 20th anniversary and so the show was essentially a retrospective. Word had it that the location was actually a former city morgue, which seems appropriate for a fashion show on so many sordid and twisted levels. After going down memory lane with the house, the finale included a parade of the design team along with a brass band and a shower of confetti. Congratulations, Masion Martin Margiela. But really, what were you all doing backstage all that time before the show began? Swilling bad bubbly?

This seems to be a season of anniversaries in Paris. Sonia Rykiel is celebrating her 40th with a big ole shindig on the outskirts of Paris tomorrow night. When I hike back from the festivities, I'll provide a full report. I'm hoping there will be a celebrity sighting or two. The famous faces have been few and far between. Nothing but French, I think, starlets who ring no bells of recognition. Burlesque queen Dita Von Teese was at the Jean Paul
Gaultier show tonight. Von Teese is lovely, but my celebrity meter is set a bit higher.

Goons and Graces

This is one of those days when I witness the best and worst of the fashion industry. The worst revealed itself at the Christian Dior show this afternoon, in the form of a large burly man in a suit who could best be described as a goon. He was serving as some sort of security guard for the editor of Vogue. Now I've got no issue with folks who require security, want security or have been given security. I do have an issue when those security guards behave like goons and quite literally shove people -- me -- out of the way.

I tend to try to make the speediest of exits from fashion shows and so found myself actually ahead of the man who henceforth will be referred to as "the goon." Pretty quickly, I felt a giant bear paw on my back pushing me out of the way, even though I was moving pretty darn briskly toward the exit. I am not one to dawdle. What gives with the obnoxiousness?

I have this nasty habit of thinking rather highly of myself and just hate it when people push me out of the way for no good reason. I've witnessed a lot of security for all sorts of folks. And I have seen guards make way without making jerks of themselves. Somebody needs to go back to hired-muscle school.

Later in the day, after escaping a mammoth traffic jam (Parisians apparently have never heard the phrase "Don't block the box"), I arrived at the Undercover presentation. The designer Jun Takahashi decided not to have a show -- instead showing his collection, inspired by the mythological Graces, on mannequins and in photographs. Takahashi conceived the photography and it was executed by Katsuhide Morimoto.

The collection was a series of fragile and beautiful dresses in layers of white gauze, silk and cotton. Sometimes they were covered in delicate eyelash fringe. There were trousers that gathered at the ankle; dresses with delicate rows of ruffles at the neckline and satin tops embroidered with bits of poetry.

The best way to describe the collection was soothing. The clothes come in other colors, but I enjoyed the all-white presentation. It came across like a soothing balm in troubled times. The clothes had real character to them without being abrasive or projecting a cynical sensibility. It was a lovely pause in the late afternoon.

And then I went and waited an hour and 15 minutes for the Maison Martin Margiela show to begin, thus killing my warm fuzzy glow.

Making Room for Lenny Kravitz

I arrived in Paris Saturday afternoon after throwing a hissy fit at the Air France counter in Milan. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I hate Air France. First, the guy at the counter told me that my single bag weighed too much and I had to remove two kilos before he could check it in. After I did that, he then told me the big bag was 15 kilos over weight and thus I had to pay 12 euros per kilo. I won't do the math here, but let's just say that I could have bought the bag the economy seat next to me and it could have flown in the cabin. Honestly, just charge more for the ticket and stop nickel and diming people all along the way.

Oh, but the sun was shining in Paris on Saturday. So I checked into my little hotel, unpacked and did a smidge of shopping. Uh, huh. I went to the Dries Van Noten store and it was bustling. And I say: Good for the designer. He's been getting lots of press lately. There was a piece featuring him in the Wall Street Journal over the weekend, for instance. And I'd already written my Dries story a while back. His show is Wednesday and one of the sales representatives noted that it was a "different" kind of collection. I'm not sure what that means. Perhaps, bye-bye florals?

Saturday evening there was a cocktail party celebrating Suzy Menkes' 20th anniversary at the International Herald Tribune. The veteran fashion editor's work was the subject of an exhibition and an impressive cadre of designers was on hand to congratulate her. Several, such as Domenico Dolce and Donatella Versace had flown in from Milan. That's clout.

There was video tribute in which various designers shared a few memories of Suzy. Olivier Theyskens of Nina Ricci had the crowd laughing because he'd taken a hank of his long black hair and rolled it up in a pseudo pompadour to match Suzy's signature hairdo. Alber Elbaz of Lanvin was also very funny saying that rain, sleet or snow, Suzy is always at the show: "Always complaining, but always there." Very funny and very true.

It was nice to see Suzy's grandchildren sharing in the festivities. Of course, they are off the charts cute and very fashionably dressed. I was enjoying my glamorous evening out in my sparkly top and peau de soie slingbacks when it soon became clear that I was not going to find a cab back to the hotel. So I took to the Metro, thinking to myself: Where, oh where are my Conde Nast car buddies? Ha!

Sunday afternoon found me sitting next to Lenny Kravitz at the Rick Owens show. Lenny was very tardy for the show, arriving with his daughter at about 5:40 for a 5 p.m. show. So all the seats were filled. A publicist came over to our area and asked if we could scoot together to make room. Before most of us had a chance to mull the question, the woman next to me piped up with "Ab-so-lutely!!!!" The sad thing is that she had to move to the other side of the runway where she could only view Lenny from afar. He arrived and chatted up my seat mate Michael Roberts from Vanity Fair. He introduced himself to me like a good gentleman and then snuggled in with his big ol' fur vest spilling over into my lap. I'd like to point out that it was about 70 degrees outside. But he's a rock star. I guess he's naturally cool.

Finale

On the last day of shows here I sat next to the splendid Miss J - that is J. Alexander of "America's Next Top Model" fame - at the Nina Ricci presentation. Before becoming a TV star, the tall leggy diva taught models how to walk on the runway and he had plenty to say about the sashaying going on at Nina Ricci.

As one young woman walked by, he noted, "She has that hungry walk." Indeed, the model was sort of slouching into an elongated "C" and practically grimacing with annoyance. "She's mad because she's so hungry!" he said. Then there was the "pterodactyl walk" another girl was doing with her neck jutting out from the body. Another model was going to get a serious talking to backstage for trampling all over the hem of her gown.

But he gave model Vlada Roslyakova kudos for her walk in which her body angles backward, her arms glide gracefully and she has the uncanny ability to balance in even the most ridiculous shoes. Her entire posture says, "Don't bother me now. I'm MODELING!" Fabulous.

Fashion followers might remember there was a kerfuffle last season about a tardy Louis Vuitton show. Designer Marc Jacobs had started his show an hour or so late. This time, word went out that he was going to be prompt. And lo and behold, the show started at about 15 past the hour. Oh, how the fashionably late ran and lept and yelped when they arrived to find the show only moments away from starting! How refreshing it was to witness this new air of promptness. My fingers are crossed that it will continue.

Model Vlada Roslyakova.(AP Photo/Christophe Ena)

The shows ended Sunday evening. It's hard to say exactly what the trends were because designers were throwing all sorts of things up against the wall. There was lots of tailoring and spice colors and sophisticated dresses. But there also seems to be a weird affection for hunchback dresses. Those would be dresses with balloon backs that make a woman look like an upright turtle. And there is a deeply disturbing desire to reinvent the trouser with a dropped crotch and ballooning hips. Are designers trying to channel MC Hammer? Say it isn't so.

Most everyone was swooning over the Lanvin show Sunday evening. When I make my first million dollars and get my own personal driver, I will stock my closet with Lanvin - at least from fall 2008. I'll tell you more about that collection in my Tuesday story. In the meantime, I've made a plan to cut back on my afternoon cappucino runs. I'm socking away my pennies for a Lanvin indulgence come fall.

(Editor's Note: "Off the Runway" is going on hiatus until the Spring 2009 runway shows begin in New York. In the meantime, be sure to read Robin's "On Culture" column every Sunday.)

Finale

On the last day of shows here I sat next to the splendid Miss J - that is J. Alexander of "America's Next Top Model" fame - at the Nina Ricci presentation. Before becoming a TV star, the tall leggy diva taught models how to walk on the runway and he had plenty to say about the sashaying going on at Nina Ricci.

As one young woman walked by, he noted, "She has that hungry walk." Indeed, the model was sort of slouching into an elongated "C" and practically grimacing with annoyance. "She's mad because she's so hungry!" he said. Then there was the "pterodactyl walk" another girl was doing with her neck jutting out from the body. Another model was going to get a serious talking to backstage for trampling all over the hem of her gown.

But he gave model Vlada Roslyakova kudos for her walk in which her body angles backward, her arms glide gracefully and she has the uncanny ability to balance in even the most ridiculous shoes. Her entire posture says, "Don't bother me now. I'm MODELING!" Fabulous.

Fashion followers might remember there was a kerfuffle last season about a tardy Louis Vuitton show. Designer Marc Jacobs had started his show an hour or so late. This time, word went out that he was going to be prompt. And lo and behold, the show started at about 15 past the hour. Oh, how the fashionably late ran and lept and yelped when they arrived to find the show only moments away from starting! How refreshing it was to witness this new air of promptness. My fingers are crossed that it will continue.

Model Vlada Roslyakova.(AP Photo/Christophe Ena)

The shows ended Sunday evening. It's hard to say exactly what the trends were because designers were throwing all sorts of things up against the wall. There was lots of tailoring and spice colors and sophisticated dresses. But there also seems to be a weird affection for hunchback dresses. Those would be dresses with balloon backs that make a woman look like an upright turtle. And there is a deeply disturbing desire to reinvent the trouser with a dropped crotch and ballooning hips. Are designers trying to channel MC Hammer? Say it isn't so.

Most everyone was swooning over the Lanvin show Sunday evening. When I make my first million dollars and get my own personal driver, I will stock my closet with Lanvin - at least from fall 2008. I'll tell you more about that collection in my Tuesday story. In the meantime, I've made a plan to cut back on my afternoon cappucino runs. I'm socking away my pennies for a Lanvin indulgence come fall.

(Editor's Note: "Off the Runway" is going on hiatus until the Spring 2009 runway shows begin in New York. In the meantime, be sure to read Robin's "On Culture" column every Sunday.)

Christian Lacroix’s View of History

Designer Christian Lacroix, who showed his collection Wednesday evening, has always been known for his exuberant historical references and his eye for detail. So it wasn't surprising to discover that he had curated an exhibition on fashion history at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs. What makes the exhibition stand out is that it is organized thematically rather than chronologically. It begins with a section on the color white, moves through vitrines on polka dots, stripes, transparency, and so on. It ends with a group of black garments. So it's possible to find a brightly colored Pierre Cardin frock from the 1970s hanging in the same case as a Jeanne Lafaurie garment from 1939. Comme des Garcons' work hangs next to anonymous historical costumes.

Designer Christian Lacroix takes to the runway.(AP Photo/Christophe Ena)

Each group features several examples of Lacroix's work -- often accessorized with pieces from the museum's permanent collection. Lacroix's work is surrounded by pieces he has chosen that address the same topic. The exhibition is as colorful and dynamic as one of Lacroix's runway shows.

But it isn't exactly an intellectually rigorous exhibition. And I like a little brain-candy with my fashion. I was hoping that I might see, for example, how designers through the decades have had similar responses to the idea of volume or texture. Or to have seen the way in which fashion repeats itself from one generation to the next. But only Lacroix's garments are on mannequins. The others are on racks or presented in such a way that it can be difficult to see the full garment.

It felt a bit as if you were browsing a really good vintage shop - except of course for that pesky problem of not being allowed to touch anything.

Christian Lacroix’s View of History

Designer Christian Lacroix, who showed his collection Wednesday evening, has always been known for his exuberant historical references and his eye for detail. So it wasn't surprising to discover that he had curated an exhibition on fashion history at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs. What makes the exhibition stand out is that it is organized thematically rather than chronologically. It begins with a section on the color white, moves through vitrines on polka dots, stripes, transparency, and so on. It ends with a group of black garments. So it's possible to find a brightly colored Pierre Cardin frock from the 1970s hanging in the same case as a Jeanne Lafaurie garment from 1939. Comme des Garcons' work hangs next to anonymous historical costumes.

Designer Christian Lacroix takes to the runway.(AP Photo/Christophe Ena)

Each group features several examples of Lacroix's work -- often accessorized with pieces from the museum's permanent collection. Lacroix's work is surrounded by pieces he has chosen that address the same topic. The exhibition is as colorful and dynamic as one of Lacroix's runway shows.

But it isn't exactly an intellectually rigorous exhibition. And I like a little brain-candy with my fashion. I was hoping that I might see, for example, how designers through the decades have had similar responses to the idea of volume or texture. Or to have seen the way in which fashion repeats itself from one generation to the next. But only Lacroix's garments are on mannequins. The others are on racks or presented in such a way that it can be difficult to see the full garment.

It felt a bit as if you were browsing a really good vintage shop - except of course for that pesky problem of not being allowed to touch anything.

Designers Just Say No

The Dutch designers Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren, aka Viktor & Rolf, showed their line on Tuedsay afternoon and it was apparently a kind of catharsis for them. Frustrated by the relentless demands to create one collection after another with practically no time in between to recharge, but unwilling to run through the streets of Paris shouting "No!" at the top of their lungs, they decided to let loose a scream of protest in their show. Thus, the No! collection was born. Clothes were embroidered with the single word of rebellion and there were jackets that bore the word in giant three-dimensional blocks. Wouldn't a little kvetching over drinks with friends have done the trick?

(REUTERS/Benoit Tessier)

Wednesday evening I went to a terrific restaurant called Il Vino d'Enrico Bernardo at 13 Blvd. de la Tour Maubourg. The owner is a sommelier who believes that wine is more important than food. So no food is listed on the menu. Not a crumb. Instead, there are simply lists of wines designated as appetizer wines, entree ones, cheese course wines and dessert wines. You choose a wine for each course. And then the kitchen presents you with the accompanying food. Nope, you have no idea what you're going to get. I suppose you could interrogate the waiter about which mystery entrees are on the day's menu and try to beat the system. But what's the fun in that?

(Judith White/Bloomberg News)

This could be torture for all those picky American eaters who don't eat meat or chicken or cheese or dairy or mushrooms or anything that has been cooked or anything other than raw fish. The waiter will ask if you have allergies or any particular dislikes. I owned up to despising mussels because I figured some sort of seafood was likely to turn up with the wine I'd chosen for my main course.

It was worth putting my palate in the hands of the house. The appetizer turned out to be a wonderful risotto with shrimp. The main course was dorade (also called sea bream) on a puddle of polenta and some sort of spectacular sauce. I will not discuss prices here. How unseemly. But it didn't make this modest scribe go bug-eyed. Still, I'm hoping that since I got a blog entry out of the meal that I'll get to expense it. After all, I only went out of dutiful research.