"Dad read me fantasy stories when I was a kid in the seventies, with Frank Frazetta s illustrations of mysterious, intergalatic regal queens being fought over. I was brought up on that—and Wagner," said Rick Owens. "So this is for Dad—he s here." Backstory revealed, Owens sent out his lightest and most ethereal collection to date, shown on the sidewalk outside his newly opened store in the Palais Royal. Pure-white organdy asymmetric jackets, crunched up around the neck and gathered into a peplum in back, were paired with complex handkerchief-point or draped skirts, striding leggily out on shaggy-chiffon, signature-Rick shoes.
The lightness, together with rock-couturish flourishes like the spiky black ribbon-ties jutting from shoulder fastenings, turned this into a sit-up-and-take-notice sequel to Owens more predictable journeys around his personal netherworld. Funnel hoods, pulled all the way over to veil faces, gave a semi-scary jolt, but that was only a problem until they were pushed back—then they were just a detail in an elegant, flyaway evening coat. Still, like other designers this season, Owens didn t have the bottom half of his collection resolved. His dresses were in the bias-cut groove he s worked forever—the aesthetic he calls "Scotch-taped Vionnet"—but, annoyingly, this time they were all sheer. A quick Google search of Frazetta (there s a museum in Pennsylvania) shows why: All of those lusty maidens were nude. Panties don t really solve that problem, so let s hope Owens has a few boring old slips in reserve to help out.
