Fashion week: low on excitement, big on ruffles

I don’t want to live in a world where the most exciting collection at New York Fashion Week is Tory Burch.

We’re not quite there yet, thank God, but with profits for major fashion houses plummeting faster than a model who tripped on her stilettos, the collections this fashion week were low on impractical punked-up fairytale ball gowns, focusing instead on clothing that will actually sell.

Who would have thought things would ever get this bad?

All right, I’m exaggerating a little. Innovation still shone in certain collections, like the psychedelic spiderwomen dresses by Kate and Laura Mulleavy for Rodarte or the gigantic Technicolor shoulder pads over granny panties by Alexandre Herchcovitch. But the difference was that three years ago, such collections would have been, if not the standard, then at least lauded by editors and buyers alike. Now, they were regarded with bafflement and even fear.

Which brings me back to Tory Burch. I have no grudge against the designer, beloved by millions of WASP moms grateful for her long tunics for hiding their muffin tops, but I do take issue with style.com’s claim that her floral jumpsuits and slouchy cardigans had editors “acting like kids in a candy store.” If drab trench coats and fake tie-dye are candy, then I’m going on a diet.

Even designers who normally produce outrageous clothing streamlined their collections a bit this season. Anna Sui, for example, whose recent stint at Target may have corrupted her, showed clothing that was fun and funky, as always- — but not particularly exciting. The same prints and patterns were there, but without the cohesion that has shone in previous collections. Though Sui is a mastermind in mixing the loudest, sometimes scariest, prints imaginable to produce a dizzying yet marvelous effect, this season she seemed a bit afraid to take risks. Individual pieces were nice, but collectively, things were slightly sloppy.

Indeed, designers this season seemed intent on demonstrating the power and value of the individual garment, which unfortunately diminished the quality of the overall collections. Ruffles, which were everywhere from Oscar de la Renta to Betsey Johnson, called attention to the actual construction (and deconstruction) of the clothing, while the prominence of slits were a bitter reminder of its delicacy and how easily it could all unravel.

Johnson poured strips of ruffles over tiny shorts with corset tops, giving everything a half-finished look and allowing us a glimpse into the process of creation. The labor put into these clothes was starkly evident, a move perhaps designed to convince buyers that they’re worth the price.

Marc Jacobs, on the other hand, used ruffles to suggest that his clothes had been turned inside out. He trapped white ruffles inside of dark coats that seemed ready to explode if not for thin leather belts that held everything together. His models looked like circus clowns on their way to a business interview, which was actually a rather brilliant interpretation of the current economic climate and the fools responsible for it. Though this was not his most inspiring collection, it had a defiant and exciting tone that was unusual and much appreciated in a season cluttered by the painfully tasteful.

In some cases, that tastefulness was done well. Francisco Costa for Calvin Klein fiddled with surprising shapes and dyed fabric to produce some really lovely shift dresses and scrunched silk overcoats. While the pieces originally seemed uncomplicated, their complexity was revealed slowly and could only be truly appreciated from up close. In a way, this was fashion at its best: a seemingly effortless and fluid collection that was simple but still experimental with form, shape, color and fabric.

And de la Renta, as usual, brought out sophisticated pieces that were as flattering as they were well-crafted. What really stood out in his collection were his knits, in bold jewel tones and soft creams, stunning examples of the possibilities for a material that really only Missoni has mastered equally well.

Still, while Costa and de la Renta created some beautiful pieces, I mourn the loss of the spectacle that once dominated the collections. Far too often, models looked like they could easily swap outfits with a department store mannequin. And that’s a shame, because it takes the imagination, and that fabulous sense of wonder, out of a fashion show and leaves things sadly predictable. Ready-to-wear is becoming, unfortunately, a bit too ready.