Anatomy of a Fashion Fantasy

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This picture of Lady Gaga, wearing designer granny panties and a lace bag over her head, was all over the fashion blogs last week, only to be superseded by photos of fellow performance-dresser Lily Allen at the something-or-other awards. Some people loved the Gaga look, some people hated it, and I wondered, again, why people go all fashion police over clothing worn by pop/rock/country stars. Music types aren't supposed to dress like civilians, and when they feel pressured to attempt fashion, they turn into ridiculous frumps. Witness the red carpet at the recent CMA awards.

Anyhoo . . . Lady Gaga is Dada, she's supposed to look absurd. What's more, even a five-year-old knows that her look is all self-promotion. So, as far as I'm concerned, screw her, her critics, her Marc Jacob's undies and her towering Alexander McQueen clodhoppers, but please, save those fantastic tights . . .

I love hose, I wear hose, I think hose flatters all legs, but particularly those of a woman-of-a-certain age who can't spend days out of every week being waxed, tanned and buffed in order to go bare-legged even in the middle of winter, in other words, me. And seeing these tights, I had an immediate vision of the outfit they should be worn with and the woman who would wear it:

The look starts with a late 40's/early 50's style nip-waist suit in a pale gray, cream or mauve:

Vintage Vogue Pattern

Alberta Ferretti Pre-Fall 2009

Christian Dior Pre-Fall 2009

Yves Saint Laurent Pre-Fall 2009

. . . worn over nothing more than a whisper of silk . . .

La Perla chemise

. . . and a spritz or two of Diorissimo.

Add a pair of pale peep-toe platform shoes (blending the color of tights and shoes lengthens the leg, doncha know):

Alexander McQueen

Michael Kors

Steve Madden

Franco Sarto

Heel-height doesn't matter here because the woman wearing this outfit (we'll call her Lady GeeBee) won't be walking. She'll be driven everywhere, in her BMW 760li (eco-pass attached). If the pavement is wet, or there's even a hint of snow on the ground, her chauffeur/bodyguard, who bears a remarkable resemblance to a Daniel Craig that had his ears pinned back at the appropriate age, will carry her to the entrance. And yes, it's okay to wear hose under peep-toe shoes.

A fabulous bag is also required:

Gucci Croissette Bag

Dior Demi Lune Bag

Not that this woman will ever need to do anything as vulgar as carry money. Her extremely competent personal assistant, who accompanies her almost everywhere, and who bears a remarkable resemblance to James McAvoy, attends to all that, like one of the Queen of England's minions. (Although you can be sure that Lady GeeBee checks her bank statements religiously.)

Of course, Lady GeeBee never leaves the house without some elegant, understated, jewelry,

Tiffany Keys

(Damn, those Tiffany keys are sexy. I think I must have one. Time to unload an heirloom or two and trade up.)

Add a silver fox stole (vintage, of course, so Mr. Fluffy isn't sacrificed to vanity, but so Grandpa Fluffy's sacrifice doesn't go to waste), lest an unruly breeze disturb Her Serenity.

One last accessory -- a first-class ticket to New York, London, Paris, or Rome, somewhere said outfit can be appreciated.

The chauffeur and P.A. travel coach.

Back to reality: I was unsuccessful in finding Lady Gaga's tights for sale online, although a Google search for fishnet hose certainly brought me to the most interesting sites. The result of the search for "nip waist suit" was more interesting (translation: smuttier) still. Hello, Gods of the Intardwebs, this is a (mostly) FASHION fantasy I'm having! I'll let y'all know when I'm having the other kind.

Better than the Oscars

Monday night the Metropolitan Museum of Art held its annual Vogue-sponsored product-placement fund-raising orgy, otherwise known as the Costume Institute gala. I love this event because celebrities, models and socialites of every class and list, many escorted by designers, converge on the red carpet in their own interpretations of the very highest fashion. Anna Wintour, Bitch Goddess of Vogue, is the hostess, after all.

This event is just what I needed to get me out of the clothes-deprived slough of despond/black hole of employment litigation I’ve been struggling through lately.

This year the Gala was in celebration of the opening of the Costume Institute’s Poiret exhibit. Paul Poiret was a Belle Époque designer often credited with getting women out of their corsets. His clothing was often exotic, inspired by the Orientalism popular at the time. Poiret also lived extravagantly, designed for the Ballets Russe, invented the brassiere, made flesh-colored hose popular, went out of style after WWI, died in poverty and was mostly forgotten.

Very often the women attending the Gala pick up the theme of the exhibition in their dresses, like all the women who appeared dressed in the Union Jack at last year’s British fashion exhibition. This year, very few women attempted to dress in Poiret-inspired tunics or hobble-skirts, which is a shame, because if they had then there’d be an excuse for the general craziness, not to mention the tackiness, of many of the outfits this year. If I were the ghost of Paul Poiret, I’d feel dissed, but I’m not, so I’m thoroughly amused. There’s nothing like a bad outfit on a rich and beautiful woman to make me think that there’s justice in this world.

Exhibit Number 1: Kirsten Dunst in vintage Yves St. Laurent. I think the feather duster, or whatever (even the pictures are poorer this year) tied to her head is supposed to be a tribute to Poiret headbands, but basically, she just looks insane.

Scarlett Johansson in another breast-abusing dress by Stella McCartney. Given that Ms. Johansson’s poitrine is considered a national treasure by a large number of American men, some among them should really organize to protect her precious assets from designer mishandling. Gosh, I can see them now, the dedicated troupe of ScarJo’s Rack Rangers.

I also think that Scarlett ought to reconsider her friendship with Stella McCartney. No good friend would dress a shortish, curvy pal in a slightly-too-tight puff ball of a dress and then make her walk down the red carpet next to supermodel Amber Valletta who's wearing a long white column by that same "friend".

Miuccia Prada, in her own design. Sicilian widow from the waist up, Ballet Russes prima ballerina from the waist down. Love the shoes, hate the schizophrenia.

Charlotte Gainsbrough in Balenciaga. Balenciaga is the sponsor of the exhibition, so I hope that Charlotte got her dress for free. Lord only knows where her toeless platform ski boots came from.

Ellen Barkin in L’Ren Scott. The Fug Girls have already given her wrinkled satin waiter’s outfit the once-over, but what got me about his picture is her face. Ellen, just back away from the Botox, please!

Amanda Peet, Sally Singer and Stella Tennant in elasticized support hose. It’s a pity that such young, elegant women all suffer from varicose veins, isn’t it? (Translation: I hate the look of opaque tights with a light formal dress.)



Molly Sims in Armani Prive and Lauren Davis in Nina Ricci. If these dresses were made for the annual toilet-paper couture contest, I’d be really impressed. As it is, I’m left wonder why Ms. Davis would chose a dress that makes her look like she has wings sprouting from her behind.

Kelly Ripa in something-or-other. I hate it when women wear dresses the same color as their skin, especially when that color resembles nothing found in nature.

Of course, some women who attended the Gala looked just grand. As soon as I’ve found my happy place again, I’ll tell you about my favorites. FYI, Style.com has 155 photos from the red carpet.

When movie stars get confused

Just in case you've been on a deserted island without access to wi-fi and gossip blogs for the past, gosh, year or so, Sienna Miller, British tabloid darling, is staring in a movie called "Factory Girl," in which she plays Edie Sedgwick, a 60s it girl and herself the star of some underground movies.

Sienna is taking her part very very very seriously, no doubt because she thinks that taking on the role of an anorexic drug-addict who died at 28 from a barbituate overdose is an express-ticket to Oscarland. And, evidently, being smart enough not to adopt Edie's lifestyle to get into the role (although not smart enough to totally dump Jude Law), Sienna has tried to get into the part by adopting what she thinks was Edie's style.

Now, Edie was in fact dubbed "the girl in black tights" by Life Magazine. However she always wore them with a mini or a tunic or something that at least reached her crotch even if the garment didn't entirely cover it. Sienna on the other hand, is going for the pure tights look, and she appeared at the recent New York Premiere of "Factory Girl" wearing a short sweater and what appears to be a pair of granny panties over a pair of tights.
Sienna is supposedly a style trend-setter. However, Girlfriend clearly needs to be reminded that she's not Edie Sedgwick, that she'll never be Edie Sedgwick, and that she shouldn't even WANT to be Edie Sedgwick, considering that Edie's life was short and sad, and people who might be tempted to follow Sienna's lead and go outside without pants or dress should be reminded of that too.

By the way, that's Sienna in the top picture, and Edie in the bottom two.