Happiness is to be found when in pursuit of it, in the soothed expectation, on the way, not only upon the arrival. Accepting detours, just going the way, which is anyhow not this obvious to anyone.
Thomas Bettinelli



Happiness is just a hairflip away.
Chris Crocker

A NEW CLIP EVERY WEEK HERE

"The way the system works now, you see the clothes, within an hour or so they're online, the world sees them. They don't get to a store for six months. The next week, young celebrity girls are wearing them on red carpets. They're in every magazine. The customer is bored with those clothes by the time they get to the store. They're overexposed, you're tired of them, they've lost their freshness".
Tom Ford
















1.06.2012

Mugler

Thierry Mugler, this house's mythmaking founder, has long since left the building and settled into a comfortable second act, designing wardrobes for the greatest show on earth. That would be Beyoncé's world tour. A diva worthy of the diva -they're a match made in heaven. And on a stage in front of tens of thousands, Mugler's elaborate concoctions finally look perfectly in scale. The label that still bears his name -now simply Mugler- is suddenly in the hands of another frantically obsessed-upon man who's made a side career of dressing a larger-than-life diva. He is the stylist Nicola Formichetti, and the diva in question is, of course, Lady Gaga. They -and many others, including French designer Romain Kremer (who paused his own label), Peruvien-born lensman Mariano Vivanco and Canadian model Rick Genest- collaborated to create the début Mugler menswear presentation, which kicked off the shows in Paris with enough buzz to amount to a bang. Editors, stylists and demimondaines not otherwise in evidence at the men's collections came to a garage on Rue de Turenne in Le Marais to see the spectacle; over a hundred more ticketless acolytes huddled outside, hoping for a glimpse. When the lights went down, a Vivanco film (starring the Zombie Boy, alternately clawing at his latex-covered face and enveloped in a billowing veil) and a Gaga soundtrack (a then-unreleased track remixed for the occasion) came up. And then began the stomping parade of slight but furious-looking boys, their hair matted with grease and oil, some of their faces plastered with latex. Their clothes mostly read as new Mugler. They borrowed certain signatures from the house's expansive vocabulary : the strong shoulders on the jackets, the shorn lapels, something of the originator's talent as a colorist. But they were quieter than Thierry Mugler's own brand of bombast, and less witty; they brought out the sinister side of suiting, the darker connotations of uniform. Pare the looks down to their composite pieces, and it's not clear how revolutionary they'll look. Some grumbling was heard in the audience : this was styled more than designed, the criticism ran, a moving editorial rather than a fashion show... Too soon to tell if this project will have legs in the long term, but hard to deny that it took a clamorous first step.

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