Oh, where art thou Owens? We miss you. You have abandoned your urban jungle for greener pastures without looking back. Where are your asymmetric tops and gentle fabrics, your modern cuts and subtle tones? Paris gets you, I know, but so do your roots.
Utterly disappointed by yet another sad state of affairs at the Mercedes-Benz Fashion week, I’ve been uninspired to post. The usual display of bad taste left me speechless. The Pussy Cat Dolls? Come on. No wonder it’s the joke of the industry. Again. I am embarrassed for the design-challenged LA. It feels like a reflection on me since I live here. The best part is that there IS good design out here, the worst part is that it’s not buddies with Barrymore or cousins with Coppola. And all the good ones (ahem, Jeremy Scott, Rick Owens…) leave just as magically as they appeared and head off to Europe where fashion is not a rehearsal but a lifestyle. What’s it gonna take to shake up some real (and unfortunately dormant) talent in this town? Cos I know it’s there. Wake up LA, wake up! Show em yo grills. And help me shed my cerulean blues.