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



Pigalle's Stéphane Ashpool and his best friend were walking down the street a couple of years ago when he saw Marissa Seraphin. "She's been my girl for two years", he said. "She's been part of all the progression and creativity. She gives me all the good". So Stéphane and Marissa were "married" at the end of this show. That's commitment. Preshow, as he posed for pictures with his little brothers Theo and Enzo, Stéphane Ashpool explained that the collection was a continuation of last season's excellent "Eros". "Then it was about seducing. And now it is closing the deal, yes : a white wedding". The dressed-up guests gathered in the gorgeous garden of the Musée de Montmartre, high above the humid fug of the gridlocked city below. There was good, crisp white wine, bowls of cherries on the wrought-iron tables, and a floral arrangement of the Pigalle logo set into a flowerbed. To the ripely suggestive organ and saxophone work of a four-piece band, Pigalle's group of groomsmen emerged one by one from the house. They wore a fashion-show and wedding-appropriate wardrobe of overwhelmingly white raiments the richness of which was in their drape, softness, detail, and color accents. Pleated sections were cut into the skirts of long, flowing jackets. Tufts of pastel silk organza, prettily arranged, were inlaid in the brims of porkpie hats or inserted as bouquets on the chests of silver quilted bombers. These were made by Maison Lemarié, one of the continuing fruits of Mr Ashpool's ANDAM Prize–forged friendship with Chanel's Bruno Pavlovsky, who was of course among the guests at this wedding. More groomsmen emerged, pausing to peacock and exchange meaningful glances with guests they liked the looks of before waiting as a group at the bottom of the garden for bride and groom. En masse, this bead-festooned collection of violet-, apricot-, and yellow-hued gents in clothes whose roots were functional but were here explicitly presented as both ceremonial and "formal" looked very convincing : 21st-century flaneurs of great taste if not necessarily discretion. Then at the end, Marissa Seraphin drifted through the gable in a luminous Maison Lesage–constructed skirt and crop top. Stéphane Ashpool sported cream track pants worn high, Nikes, and a pattern-sparkled cream and violet jacket. They kissed under a sheet and were "married". The garden revelers clapped and drank a toast. And yet one doubt gnawed : would the butterfly demands of the seasonal fashion system dictate imminent divorce in favor of a new bride come the next men's fashion week ? Stéphane Ashpool was startled by the suggestion : "No ! I'm very loyal in this ! I will have another story to tell".

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