Markdowns, discounters and the marketing of designers’ other products, like accessories, have dissuaded consumers from buying expensive clothes. Runway collections are now largely vehicles for promoting a big designer’s image, or helping a new talent get started.
You have to wonder then if a significant number of women will care that Donna Karan presented her best collection in years, or that Marc Jacobs channeled his favorite good times, the 1980s.
For a while, Ms. Karan has been doing some rather confounding things to clothes, which in essence suggested that she was in a prolonged state of meditation. On Monday, she snapped out of it and showed some terrific clothes. From start to finish (well, almost), this was about as levelheaded a collection as you could expect from a serious designer and businesswoman.
The top note was tailoring: sharp, clean lines in fabrics like a double-faced wool and cashmere blend and stretch wool crepe or tweed. The cosmopolitan palette included navy, charcoal and nutmeg brown, with bursts of scarlet or neon purple. There were few suits per se; Ms. Karan took a contemporary approach and broke up the look, putting a belted jacket — say, in glossy red tweed — over a slinky, below-the-knee skirt in gray jersey. A slim navy wool coat with a mandarin collar paired up with tapered gray trousers. Over the sleeves Ms. Karan added rough-looking shearling gauntlets.
There was plenty of her usual draping, but this time it didn’t look as if the Hindu god Siva had given her a hand. The results were seductive, as when the model Karlie Kloss appeared in a belted gray jersey dress with bare shoulders; or handsome, when a high-neck blouse in rippling nutmeg jersey came out with pleated gray trousers. Either way, the effect was appealing. Another plus in this collection was the relatively natural shoulder line. Extreme shoulders are a recurring fascination with designers, and this week we’ve seen them squared, pinched and inflated like a linebacker’s. Wisely, Ms. Karan didn’t go there.
Mr. Jacobs’s collection was hard to like. It resisted (resented?) the logical, the sober, the prettified. Like a painted lady in a rainstorm, it stood indifferent to the economy. (In at least one respect on Monday night, Mr. Jacobs was all business. His show started two minutes early and didn’t use a set, just a gaudy red carpet.)
The clothes were very much in the spirit of the ’80s, the era of Dianne Brill and Princess Gloria von Thurn und Taxis, when a girl could spend half the day getting her look together. For that reason perhaps, each of Mr. Jacobs’s 60 models had her own look, with hair teased into flips and stacks.
The clothes were equally frothy: teacup silk skirts, a bubbly wool coat in Bazooka pink, satin bustiers with huge fan pleats across the front, metallic peplum jackets and flamboyantly patterned tights. Although kookiness can sometimes be its own justification, there were many desirable pieces lurking in the romp, like glossy black coats dotted with black disks, flowing tunics in murky floral prints and vivid wool caped jackets.
What makes this collection less satisfying than his previous ones is that the visual assault seems forced. We don’t really buy it — and that’s partly because we don’t feel any energy. There is very little sense of enjoyment or relish in the clothes, qualities we associate with ’80s dressing. Maybe that’s something you can only experience once in its true state.
In spite of the grim reports of store budget cuts, this season has seen one or two plainly talented newcomers. Joseph Altuzarra, 25, a former assistant at Givenchy and Proenza Schouler, presented a small collection — his second — on Monday. He said that he has just three store accounts, including Barneys New York and Ikram in Chicago. He was not complaining.
Although he can cut a mean suit, with little air between flesh and wool, Mr. Altuzarra’s gift is for the soft stuff. He showed delicately ruched dresses in ivory and pale lilac stretch georgette, engineering the fit so that the back was open. What comes through is not his taste, though he has taste, but rather his judgment. Another great look was a one-shoulder tunic in silver lamé, belted and worn over black leggings with sexy booties licked with long black fur.
Tracy Reese sent out a smart collection. There were adorable print minidresses hemmed in black lace, slouchy blazers mixed with flounced dresses, and those mannish pleated trousers in charcoal and pinstripes that suddenly look like money in the bank.