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


"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












Bitching Beaching


Let's float a theory : the last few seasons of Versace's menswear have seen a paring-down of the clothing -a purification, if you will- as though the ground were being leveled for a major new design statement. Is recently employed consultant Alexandre Plokhov, designer of the late, lamented New York label Cloak, the deliverer of that statement ? The first Versace collection in which he had any say certainly hinted at changes afoot, starting with the portentous blast of Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain, which opened the show. And if that didn't bear enough weight, there were also show notes that expounded on the concept of duality. "Nothing is as it seems", they proclaimed. Hence, a trenchcoat chicly trimmed down to jacket size.
In his own collections, Plokhov often leaned toward new-wave flourishes, and there were plenty here : polo shirts with dress collars; a high-waisted, deep-pleated pant; a jacket with lapels scissored away; suits that closed low with one button; a clutch of belts, buckles, and straps; and an occasional (but judicious) stab of red. But other items had an innate glamour that reflected the Versace legacy. A black coat shone like sharkskin, and the black-on-black eveningwear had a sinister elegance... er, yep, why not.


Silvia Venturini-Fendi has been working on a special menswear project for a few seasons now. Baldly stated, she wants to play up a man's vulnerable side, to emphasize his eccentricity and ambiguity over his straight-ahead masculinity. Inevitably, this is not the kind of project that draws wide acclaim, but it is producing some of the most provocative menswear in Milan. For this season, Fendi adopted the principle that "less is more” (although this is not new) : she proposed outfits composed of layers at times so light they were almost invisible. Sheer linen knitwear was laid like a veil over a shirt and tie. Nylon organza made see-through blousons in white or pale yellow. Believe this if you will, but it was Silvia Venturini-Fendi’s way of acknowledging the apocalypse of global warming. Yes indeed. She is about to become a grandmother, so obligations to the future were on her mind and, without the wherewithal to make the necessary structural changes, she was doing her bit for individual solutions (as in, it’s hot / cold, I need less / more clothes). By that same token, the collection offered roomy totes composed of leather and recycled Fendi canvas woven together.
Small gestures perhaps, but mighty oaks, etc. More in keeping with the house's artisanal roots were a tiny Ali Baba-like waistcoat and blouson in leather with Byzantine embossing. And the very particular brand of decadent male glamour that Fendi excels at was well represented by pailletted tops and evening pants in a silky, translucent black nylon.

Costume National

If Ennio Capasa wasn't quite a changed man (he is still claiming inspiration from the most far-out fringes of the music world), there was enough of a new spirit in his latest collection to suggest that his holiday detoxing in Kerala had indeed opened his mind a little. The easy layering, the languid drawstring pants, the loose-weave knits with deep V necklines all brought a bit of the relaxed beach vibe into the city. Even the requisite indie-rocker rig (narrow suit, tiny-collared shirt, skinny tie -can anyone see this look without thinking Hedi S ?) was roughened up so it had a little freshness. Think Nick Cave in beige, not black, and you'll get the picture.
All the same, Capasa admitted he had re-toxed since he got home, so it's still clearly dark, urban pleasures that appeal most to him. Anyone in search of such diversions would be appropriately dressed in a blouson covered with old silver sequins, or a lamé-lapelled jacket. And there were shirts with plackets of stitched-flat roses or frills or even oily feathers that cried out to poètes maudits everywhere.


With his last menswear collection for the family label, Luca Missoni made a splash as big as David Hockney's famous painting. Yes, Hockney, once more (argh)... Missoni used every shade of blue -navy, turquoise, aqua, azure- to evoke summer's water-based pursuits. The slicked-back hair of the models suggested they'd just clambered out of the sea or the swimming pool, but Missoni also offered a fisherman's vest, and a cagoule suitable for yachting. And when he wasn't in a blue mood, he was showing the family's signature jacquards in sunshine yellow or sunset pink. Paired with white pants and satin-patched sneakers, they represented a timeless, cheerful, and appealingly quirky way to dress for the season. Other parts of the collection demonstrated a welcome dose of edge. A black&white twinset in Missoni's signature chevron pattern cried out for Alain Delon as the charming sociopath Mr Ripley in Plein Soleil to do it full justice. The 1960s-ish trilby hat only compounded the impression.


Venice Beach


The Cavalli man, the show notes declared, is a "free thinker" and "style explorer" who "goes against the trends". No kidding. Set in a vast hangar that had been converted into Club Cavalli, complete with mirrored flooring, zebra-striped sofas, and VIP guests like Julian Schnabel and brood, this collection didn't rely on anything as obvious or rational as a theme. Instead, after last season's tribute to Jim Morrison, Cavalli swapped the Lizard King for a more generalized, over-the-top species of lounge lizard. Shirts were either embroidered in gold or printed with animal motifs blown up to the point of abstraction; cargo pants in flimsy nylon came with enormous patch pockets; there was an array of bomber jackets and trenches decked out in various types of metallicized gold reptile, plus one or two skins never seen in nature...
More believable was the series of rakish double-breasted suits, many in navy with covered buttons, that closed the show : nip-waisted, ventless jackets were paired with a pant that flared slightly at the ankle over, say, purple snakeskin boots (Pete Doherty may be his new campaign star, but Cavalli is clearly more interested in his attitude than the attenuated cut of the singer's clothes). The designer took in the proceedings perched on one of the low sofas, puffing contentedly on a cigar. The skinny-suited fashion pack may sometimes wonder what he's smoking, but Cavalli's sales figures suggest there is a lucrative supply of free thinkers and style explorers out there. Good for him.

Enrico Coveri

"You Young" is the name of one of the several seasonal Enrico Coveri collections. It is also perhaps the most succinct description for his bold, unpretentious, and fun-loving fashion : strong, vibrant colors and striking, witty designs that have always been clear and intelligible, with zany prints and knits often incorporating Pop Art designs and cartoon characters.
Enrico Coveri was born in Prato, near Florence, Italy in 1952 and studied at the Accademie delle Belle Arti in the city. He began his career as a freelance designer, creating knitwear and sportswear lines for three collections, Touché, Gentry, and Tycos, making his mark by being one of the first designers to use soft pastel shades. After a brief move to Paris in 1978 to work for Espace Cardin, he returned to Italy and established his own namesake company. Each season the company produced a ready-to-wear women's line and several less expensive boutique collections for men, women, teenagers and children, as well as a vast array of subsidiary Coveri accessory products such as shoes, bags, hats, scarves, and gloves.
Asked for his design inspiration, he replied that he never really gave it any serious intellectual thought, preferring spontaneous incidents to spark ideas and feelings.
Although Enrico Coveri died of a stroke in 1990, at the age of 38, the business was continued by his family. Under the direction of his sister and a chosen design team, successive collections continue to evoke Coveri's acknowledged fashion legacy.


No one could ever accuse Consuelo Castiglione of lacking a sense of humor. For this season, the Marni designer offered the perfect simulacrum of the kind of outfit a particular species of Englishman might wear to the beach on a cloudy day : dark-gray knit top, long navy shorts, socks, and sandals. And, in fact, that outfit touched most of the bases of the collection. The shoe of choice was indeed the sandal, and the palette was a resolutely sober symphony of grays and blues (one wag in the audience suggested that the clothes would be better viewed through the piece of pink acetate included with the invitation -it would've added a healthy tinge to a collection that was subdued to the point of summer-denial). The little-boy edge of the shorts with socks was amplified by tiny Peter Pan collars on shirts. Shrunken tailoring extended the notion. And it was a tad disappointing to find almost none of Marni's cultish signature shirt prints on the catwalk. There was one that featured brushstrokes or shadows, another a broken grid on a shiny graphite. Where the house remained most true to its spirit was in outré fabrics like techno paper (for shirts) or the nylon that was used in blazers and cabans. And the most promising accessories were the sunglasses, which sported a vintage sci-fi feel.


Designer Massimiliano Giornetti is very taken by the notion that men now dress "more formally for their casual time, more casually for their formal time", and his new collection for Salvatore Ferragamo was a pretty accurate reflection of that conviction. Though Ferragamo's heritage is color, Giornetti pointed the range into the monochrome zone. From the first outfit -white 3-piece suit, white tie, white patent shoes- he held the palette to a handful of minimal shades. The best of them (aside from that timely white) was the silver that toned everything from a nylon trench to a Lurex knit with a deep V neckline to the piping on a suit and the collar studs on a shirt. The metallic loaned the collection an alluring sheen of modernism, though Giornetti's faith in his blend of what he called "the sexy and the sensual" produced some head-scratchers, particularly in the form of jersey short shorts, which he insisted on pairing with tailored jackets or even dress shirts. In the same vein, one evening look had the model in a shorts suit with a big bow tied round his neck, like a gift-wrapped Lord Fauntleroy. But these were presumably showpiece missteps in a collection that otherwise emphasized some deluxe, desirable items.


Into the green


The audience was compelled to search for its seats in a twisty labyrinth -an experience some found frustrating enough to equate to the clothes they would later view- but right from the get-go, Miuccia Prada was simply prepping her public for a fashion master class in human vulnerability. It's getting harder for men to find their way in the world. Ergo, shut up and sit down.
In her best men's collection in several seasons, Prada kept a tight focus on her view of the modern male. The more-boyish-and-interchangeable-than-ever models were a bit of a red herring. Their gladiator-style haircuts and wristbands (decorated with vintage watches !) were the giveaway. Prada had a vulnerable warrior on her mind -not exactly Russell Crowe, but someone who is attempting to reconcile expectation and inclination, hence a soundtrack that married classical piano to primal electronic pulse. The tailoring one expects from a Prada collection was more attenuated: the jacket lapel a shawl collar, the fitted leg expanding into a slight flare. The prints were splashy-but-muted poppylike florals, which eventually appeared in silk pajamalike combos. There were 1970s-style geometric patterns that wouldn't have looked out of place on swingers' leisure suits. And, yes indeedy, there were the very jumpsuits on which they might have shown up.
On paper, it's a challenging smorgasbord (you're probably wondering where the "vulnerable warrior" is in all of this), but it's always been Prada's peculiar skill to pose peculiar questions. She doesn't always bother to answer them -this time, the desirability of the clothes did it for her. And the company that famously made its fortune in bags and shoes can anticipate a bonzer season in accessory sales.

Gaetano Navarra

Gaetano Navarra is sailing the web decked out in rock climbing gear ! For this season's collection, he wanted to stress "man's endless challenge to the sea" and how the future is inevitable. It just so happened that his is to be in the form of technology. The clothes were an extreme take on sportswear inspiration that Gaetano Navarra pulled off with his daring designs. Using sailing as his inspiration, Gaetano Navarra took the liberty of changing sailor knots and cords into mountaineering gear.
Carabineers worked as closures for belts while colored cording detailed the open back of different designs. Using colorful straps and mesh, the shoes took the clue from Balenciaga's ultra sporty Fall 2007 line, taking shoes to a whole new level, somewhere between art and fashion.
Sailing inspiration came in the form of piping details on pants that take inspiration from the sails rather then the sailors. The look is very precise and independent the huge backpacks with dangling straps that even had water bottles attached to it, were just an example of how prepared the Gaetano Navarra man is, to face the world.
With neon colors and sporty high tech fabrics, Gaetano comments on the modern-day cyber activist. It's a new kind of techno that is an internal movement for the individual rather then a large culture trend.
An ultra sporty line that is so detailed and thought out that it's pushed to another level. Like always the ideal customer for Gaetano Navarra in no way is shy because his styles are too bold to go unnoticed.

Bottega Veneta

There's often a hint of irony in Tomas Maier's collections for Bottega Veneta. This season, washed-out madras items, monochrome ensembles in pale peach (here called "lotus") and orange ("aurora") -even the butterfly-embroidered swimsuit Maier usually shows- suggested a quirky take on a preppy Palm Beach story. It's curious that a designer who is so devoted to the finest craftsmanship in clothing should make such a strong showing in spring, more so than in the fall (when logic dictates that a creative mind would have more to work with), but the simpler, lighter needs of summer seem to suit Maier's own tastes best. The man has, after all, elected to live in Miami.
So his palette was sun-faded, his fabrics were washed-out, and his silhouette had an almost slouchy ease. With comfort as a priority, casual jackets had zip-off sleeves and detachable collars. After last summer's essentially monochrome white collection, Maier thought of his custom-made madras as a print for this year. He combined different varieties of it in a jacket, shirt, and pant combo. But for all this summery ease, the designer is still absorbed in and challenged by the construction of clothes. His suits, with their little peaked shoulders, carried over the influence of the Napolitan tailoring from BV's fall collection, especially a final 3-piece group in dully gleaming ramie. Echoing Luca Missoni's aqua-infused spring effort, Maier said he was thinking about David Hockney's fusion of formal and sportswear during his "Splash" period in California in the late 1960s. Sunny, but seriously smart.


You can't put your arms around a memory, but Franco Moschino's torchbearers are doing their best. The late designer's iconoclastic inclinations have been logo-fied : here, his once-ironic peace sign showed up as a zesty fluorescent orange detail on denim. In the spirit of the droll message tee-shirts he pioneered, one model wore a top that read "tall, dark and handsome" on the front, "short, pale and ugly" on the back. A comment on the superficiality of fashion ? Well, that would have been quite in keeping with Moschino's own bite-the-hand-that-feeds leanings, except that in this case, the kookiness was self-conscious. So were the bow ties, hardly ever a winning styling flourish in a fashion show (cf. the fluoro version that accessorized a sequin-trimmed tux). In fact, fluorescence was generally a little too omnipresent, lending the catwalk the feel of a hazmat extravaganza.
It's possible Moschino himself could have twisted such an element into a comment on the dangerous times in which we live, in the same way that he might have done more with the starred T-shirts with striped sleeves, or striped shirts with embroidered stars (here, they were merely a reminder of how much genuine grist this particular moment might have offered to Moschino's satirical mill). A more simpatico bet was the Warholian flower prints, because in his own way, Franco was a pop artist, too.


Dragon buoy

Dolce & Gabbana

The soundtrack for Dolce & Gabbana's presentation was Timbaland, but the inspiration looked like purest Timberlake : the shaved-headed models, the young urban take on dressing up, the overall edge. Domenico and Stefano smartly acknowledged the way that contemporary menswear merges day and night by running their show back to front. They opened with a formal look -tuxedo-striped pants, shawl-collared jackets, contrast lapels- and closed with a blouson and combats in linen all scrunched up in the curious 21st-century Stone Age effect they used in their last women's collection. In between came a typically catholic collection of items that covered the ever-widening Dolce & Gabbana waterfront : from a white linen jacket that offered one of the season's more appealing takes on menswear's evolving see-through kick, to a pair of denim clamdiggers that, teamed with a floral shirt, hinted at one half of the design duo's long-standing affection for hippie chic.
The final march-past of mannequins all sported white orchids in the breast pockets of their evening suits, but that romantic flourish was less intriguing than the show's use of technology. Screens suspended over the catwalk featured a Minority Report-style forensic look at the proceedings, and one passage of combat-inspired clothing was illuminated by LED-like hardware, an arresting way for the modern attention junkie to feed his habit.


D&G isn't Domenico & Stefano's younger collection, it's their London collection. The bleach-splashed jeans were skinhead classics, the zippered pants were streamlined punk…and the fanny pack with the Union Jack picked out in studs ? Well, that was just twisted.
There's always been a sense of irony with D&G, like this is where Dolce & Gabbana come to play. The backdrop showed an urgent collage of documentary images, which was reflected in a black-and-white photo-collage print on the runway. There were peace signs and heavy studded sandals, tailored suits, and hardware-laden items, and the contrary tension on the catwalk felt somehow like one of those Situationist face-offs that ultimately produced the movement that came to be called punk. Not that there was any such philosophical to-ing and fro-ing on the D&G catwalk, but, with English nu hip-hopper Just Jack on the soundtrack, the generally combative mood of the clothes hinted at the wayward strand in British pop culture that Domenico and Stefano find so appealing.

Emporio Armani

"Crazy for Italy", proclaimed the show notes. "Italiana", blared the back-projection. And, when the summer sun is shining on Milan, who could really blame Giorgio Armani for his enthusiastic patriotism ? To a soundtrack of appropriately partisan pop, Armani paraded a collection of Italian sportswear that surprisingly elevated quirk over classic. Hence cropped pants with buckled ankles, or pants that were legging-tight with buttoned calves, which reflected the increasingly devil-may-care confidence of a designer in his please-myself years. In actual fact, such items may well have worked their way into the wardrobes of countrymen in not-so-long-ago Italy (those calf-buttoning pants were like mutated riding breeches), which goes to prove that Armani is always drawing from a deep well of memory when he designs.
His building block remains the jacket, which he toyed with here in a new offering as deconstructed as a shirt. Worn simply with a waistcoat by a number of mannequins over their bare torsos, it backed up the claim of the show notes that the essence of Italy embraces "finely tuned bodies that showcase the physique". The overtness of such a notion, which stood in stark contrast to Armani's years of restraint and discretion, was a further indication of the pleasure he seems to be deriving from his work. Likewise, the obvious sensuousness of slouchy sweaters that unbuttoned all the way down the arm, or the ease of drawstring-waisted pants with elastic cuffs. And the final group of EA7 activewear, accompanied by lethal-looking roller skates from New Zealand, hinted at what might still be to come.

Giorgio Armani

Front-row fan Matthew Fox couldn't make his mind up which outfit he liked best. That would probably be the sane response of any man confronted with the range of options offered by Giorgio Armani in his signature collection. He opened with the urban formality of a tableau of suits, then quickly headed south for the summer, to islands like Pantelleria and Stromboli, where dressing is as easy as a pair of pajama-soft pants and a barely constructed velvet jacket. As usual, the jacket was the collection's building block, in everything from a silken herringbone to a summer-striped, elasticized-waist version, but this time the shirt was important, too, as a paradox : it made its presence felt by its absence.
In its place were easy shirt-jackets that did away with the need for anything underneath, or cropped waistcoats (the best with draped-scarf necklines), which temporarily raised the suspicion that the navel was Armani's focus for the season. When shirts did show up, they were collarless or baseball-style, or as light as voile. The palette was based on shades of stone and sea, except for blousons in woven alligator or taupe-y crocodile. They were a reminder that Armani is perfectly capable of injecting a note of slightly decadent luxe into all that warm-weather airiness.


Olé !


Frida Giannini never stops finding inspiration in her hometown, Rome -someone should give that girl the keys to the city. For her latest men's collection, she'd been spending time at the legendary film studio Cinecittà, looking at 1950s-era photos of actors like Marcello Mastroianni in their white suits and piqué polo shirts. But sportswear as we understand it now didn't exist in Italy then, so, to bring things up to this century, Giannini also drew on the boys the Romans call adorable caniglia, who twist tradition with a little sartorial eccentricity. Then, to add some unambiguously masculine spice, she injected a dash of speed demon Steve McQueen in the form of aerodynamic biker jackets and pants.
Giannini's recipe needed that weight because, in the end, what really stood out was her own playful Gucci-lite sensibility : leather jackets in silver, white, butter yellow, or lacquered black paired with skinny pants in bold checks or bright colors, which had an almost cartoonish flair that evoked the 1980s. Also echoing that decade was the new-wave smartness of a check suit, striped shirt, and spotted tie combination (the effect was compounded by the soft, Capezio-like shoes in white or silver). Giannini claimed the checks actually came from her research into the 1950s at Cinecittà, but it was men she was looking at in those old photos, and it's boys she's dressing when she matches Mastroianni's smart checks with a green suede baseball jacket. Though the look still has its charms, it might be time to move on up...


Reality is merely a concept for Kean Etro. He is a master at creating new worlds. For this season, the Kingdom of Kean was Etropicalia, a jungly place outside time (such are Kean's powers of persuasion that the venue itself felt hotter and brighter as the show wore on). And not just outside time, but outside fashion too, because Kean Etro is a law unto himself, evolving with little heed to what is happening elsewhere in Milan. Though the introductory "son et lumière" promised a back-to-nature trip, the first outfit was actually a very civilized gray marl suit, worn with a paisley shirt, bow tie, and trilby, followed in rapid succession by more of the tailored stripes, checks, and paisleys that are signatures of the urban Etro dandy.
Kean is too canny to fuss with this successful formula. But then he began to warm to his theme. Floral prints were blurry, like they’d been left out in a tropical rainstorm (applied to knitwear, the technique looked a little like tie-dye). Straw was woven into shoes, raffia into waistcoats. A jute blazer had its half-belted sobriety shaken up by the big flower graffitied on its back. And shirts were overprinted with huge glossy petals. Etro's experiments with fabric also yielded jackets and cabans washed in coffee (another subtle tie-dyed effect). A sunny passage toward the end of the show offered response to that retailer who complained earlier in the week about the lack of swimwear in a season that hasn't always had summer on its mind.
Question : Why is a bathing suit like a bus ?
Answer: Because you can wait forever, then ten come along at once.

Alessandro dell'Acqua

Though Alessandro dell'Acqua was keen to stand apart from Milan's appetite for scuba stylings this season—surf's up in Lombardy ? There's a riposte to anyone who's ever doubted the essential surreality of fashion -he could easily own the notion. It's not just the way his name translates; it's also because the second skin of scuba is so close to his own body-conscious ethos. In this collection, that consciousness was most obvious in the sheer, flesh-toned items made from something called "non-run lingerie jersey", which he used as a translucent veil over a white shirt, or as a sinuous tee. ADA's pairing of such translucence with sharply tailored pieces has always been the signature of his womenswear. It's a strong, sexy proposition, so why didn't he make more of it for his men ? There was something curiously tentative about the presentation, which was a shame when there were so many little details that deserved appreciation : the diving-suit zips, the deep-sea mesh that added an odd but appealing overlay to shoes, the mercifully judicious use of the fluoro highlights that are another of the season's big deals in Milan.


There were more big brands than ever on New York's menswear calendar for this season, a situation that presented itself as a recipe for the triumph of commerce over creativity. Then Zegna came along to shake that notion with a show of extremes. Extraordinary proportions and fabrics of indefinable provenance led one to conclude that big business -remembering the parent company's place in the global scheme of menswear things- was taking a backseat to the belief that there might be a generation of men who want to dress like nomads on Mars. The nomadic association inevitably reactivated visions of Raf Simons’ last show, with its exploding, imploding proportions, gigantic backpacks, and tech footwear. They were all here, the backpacks matching oversized parkas and shorts that were so voluminous they looked like skirts. And they were presented in something called "paper-touch cotton", a reminder that Zegna is the repository of some of the most advanced fabric technology in the world. The shorts were, in fact, the key item in the collection, delivered in everything from cotton and linen to a bizarre chunky knit. When the models weren't wearing skirt-shorts, they were in jodhpurs or legging-tight trousers. And with so much volume swirling around their thighs, it seemed only fair that their top halves should be tightly reined in with four-button jackets. Paired with porkpie hats, these gave the models a fifties jazz-bo groove, which, in the general context of spaciness, had an echo of Blade Runner's blend of noir and sci-fi (the hints of Orientalia had a Blade Runner vibe too). At the finale, the new model army marched past in eye masks. Is the future really so bright we'll have to wear shades ?


Rosa Cha


Fash and the Web

This editorial by Guy Hipwell featuring Alex Burriel shot by David Ellis appears in the current issue of Brit online fash mag Fashion156.




Armani Exchange



Golden Narcissus (without Goldmund)

My immortal

Morphosis already published the beautifully written lyrics of this song (here). Now you can listen to a rare version of it.


Number (N)ine

Takahiro Miyashita ( 设计师宫下贵裕) brought his hometown to Paris in the form of a finale of capacious coats trimmed in black feathers, like those of the crows that kick up such a racket in Tokyo. The greasy toughness of the crow is slightly at odds with the new gentleness that Miyashita was keen to communicate with this collection (showing in an old convent 'n' all), and that wasn't the only incongruity. There was a subtext of reconfigured militarism in the jacket with Napoleonic frogging and the soldier's caps, but the soundtrack featured lullaby versions of some of Nirvana's most aggressive numbers delicately tapped out on a xylophone, and Miyashita obligingly offered the flannelette pajamas to go with the music. Or at least that's what they looked like. The designer's affection for Kurt Cobain has been thoroughly exercised over the past few seasons. Here, the grungy knit layers of his latest presentation -tee over long sleeves, bondage bum-flap over leggings, droopy, worn-out bits and pieces in a palette limited to gray, black, and beige- elaborated on that affection over and over. A layered shoe / boot hybrid amped up the interest, but otherwise, one was left craving something a little more substantial, like his last spring collection, for instance. Of course, that was unseasonably heavy -to his credit, Miyashita-san got the fabric weight right this time.