If there was a method in Veronica Etro s madness, it wasn t immediately apparent in the pell-mell tone of a presentation that breezed from barbarism to futurism in the blink of an eye. If ever there was a show with a split personality, this was it. But sometimes that means double the fun, and that was the case here, if you were inclined to put a charitable spin on the chaos. The first outfit was an appropriate appetizer: A tartan-bodied coat sported metallic leather sleeves, a heavily embroidered placket, and a curly lambswool collar. Minutes later, a classically draped, one-shouldered gown in a mosaic pattern was followed by a substantial forties-style overcoat, then a psychedelic-ized paisley blouson and matching skirt. A key fabric of the collection was something called nylon Lurex, which flowed like liquid around the body. It made an intense golden evening dress look like a hostess gown from ancient Abyssinia, especially with the substantial earrings sported by Abbey Lee Kershaw. This was, by the way, a good thing.
The collection was random enough to turn anyone into a fashion editor. Take this, leave that. So baggy tartan pants looked fine with a lacquered leather biker, but the pairing of the same pants in tweed with an ethnic gold-coin-covered coat was too jarring to work. Still, could randomness even be invoked as a criticism when Etro s combinations were so deliberately wayward? They took on their own feverish life, so much so that the hectic patterning began to look like Rorschach blots. Then along came a gorgeous ivory coat-dress, shading from black and white paisley to rich color. Or a simple black gown, artfully, classically wrapped. File this one in the too-much-is-never-enough folder.
