Sonia Rykiel s invitation came printed with a single word: legend. In an industry not shy about self-aggrandizement, for once this description was accurate. Rykiel holds the same place in the hearts of the French as the Marianne, Edith Piaf, and les frites. Rykiel s most recent collections have continued to perpetuate her truly French persona. She can—and does—send out skinny sweaters, feather boas, and floppy fedora hats tilted at a rakish angle, time and time again. Yet it s so intrinsically her that it works.
Will it survive a transatlantic crossing, though? Caution is advised when it comes to the acid-green linen dress trailing strands of marabou, or the jingle-jangling tops strewn with gold coins. But there are pieces worthy of consideration: a pink floral organza tea dress with fluttery hems and a champagne satin thirties-look evening dress delicious as a coup of Dom Pérignon. Rykiel is no slouch when it comes to accessories: The sun hats, crystal-studded belts, and multitude of black bangles inlaid with mother-of-pearl all looked good. (Note to early adopters: A stack of bangles is all set to replace the brooch next season.)
Rykiel also provided her audience with one of her signature, sentimental finales. As a lounge singer crooned "Imagine," models in brightly colored cotton evening dresses sat on the stage, swaying in time. Then a curtain went up on a crowd of striped sweater-dress-clad models who strolled down the runway, whooping and cheering. It could have all been as ripe as Camembert had not Rykiel appeared with her beaming grandchild Salomé; that alone turned it from trite to a touching family affair.
