The Chanel jet was a blaring precursor to what was to come: the ultimate in luxury marred, at least at times, by frivolous branding. Granted, this is a cruise collection, which means that sellable brashness is not as dirty a concept as it is with ready-to-wear. And sellable brash there was – think unisex sequined smokings, candy-coloured jumpers, denim festooned with airplanes. That said, Lagerfeld bears the aplomb of a true visionary, enough to make you legitimately second guess your predisposed reservations to kitsch-friendly denim hotpants and Chanel logo necklaces. It’s hard to tell if it’s that bad it’s almost good.
Lagerfeld’s fait accompli aside, he offered up a bevy of camp-free, art-deco-meets-70s-youth-culture inspired garb, sure to satisfy the palette of his A-list front row, which included, amongst others, the Olsens, Lindsay Lohan, Diane Kruger, and Cameron Diaz. As usual, it’s when Lagerfeld is least driven to evoke youthfulness that unequivocal modernity emerges. This time around, this was manifested by jewel-encrusted chiffon cocktail dresses, minimalist maxi length knitwear, and the all important high-waist sailor pant, interpreted in everything from stonewash denim to striped seersucker.
Equally successful was his interpretation of art-deco via diaphanous seamed dresses and the lacey, one-piece swimsuits, paragons of seductive sophistication in these crotch-exposing times; all in all, sophistication not without its share of tragic missteps. A statement strangely apropos to a photo-opping Lohan gracing the front row.
