Fall '09 Couture: A hard day's night for Mabille.

Well. This is my first attempt at a full-blown play-by-play of Fashion Week, and I have to say, I couldn't have asked for a better place to start. Despite its impracticality, nothing in fashion fosters bigger risks or stronger opinions than couture - and I hope that my very green (experientially, not environmentally) analysis can help make the otherworldliness of high fashion a bit easier to understand.

First on the chopping block: a designer so new, he doesn't even have his own Wikipedia entry yet. Alexis Mabille is a 30-year-old French designer best known for his key role in the bows-as-accessories trend (here's looking at you, Blair Waldorf!). Apparently, the driving image for this collection was that of a girl waking tangled in her bedclothes. Being the champion of frivolous sleepwear that I am (my nighties are a source of ridicule among my friends), I was fully prepared to fall in love with any collection that could merge two of my favorite things: fashion and naps.



These three looks are my favorites from the show. They're thematic, yet gorgeously wearable at the same time. I love the movement in the ribbons on the two right-hand dresses, and the styling of the first outfit is brilliant - the contrast of the prim organdy blouse with the short skirt and snakeskin sandals is the stuff of mix-master legend.

A few more well-executed (if unexciting) stabs at the maiden-swaddled-in-nightclothes concept:



The rest of the collection, while admittedly more "couture-y," is kind of a mess. A mess that ranges from flagrant disregard for flattery of the female form (with black lace leggings adding insult to injury)...



To near-nakedness...



To some classic runway-style WTF-bombs, like a deep-v-cut-harem-pant jumpsuit/a lace-trimmed saran wrap toga/glittery elbow-length shackles worn with a lumpy librarian jumper.



All things considered, I think Al's having a bit of an identity crisis here. Browse through the entire collection on Style.com and you'll see what I mean - it leaps from lingerie-style dresses one second to tailored suits the next, with a mind-numbingly boring or randomly Gothic piece popping up in between. I'm kind of over white eyelet fabric, which is a major focal point of his collection - and while I can appreciate clothes that are fun and over-the-top, a lot of his more outrageous pieces are just, well, ugly. Mabille is young, and clearly still getting his sea legs about him as far as staging a full couture show goes. I'll be interested to see how his work evolves over the next couple of years.

Grade: C. A designer to keep on the radar, but nothing to sell your firstborn for. Yet.

Per-féktion.

As someone who was (go ahead, throw tomatoes) born with near-perfect skin, I seem to have missed that vital stage in adolescence when one is introduced to the notions of foundation and concealer. Here I was, trotting around my high school harvesting compliments in nothing but mascara and moisturizer; taking for granted my blemish-free existence and judging friends who had yet to master blending along the edges.

So imagine my displeasure to now, at age 20, be tossed unarmed into the wild world of, well...oil. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice to say that I've been looking a little shiny in photographs lately. What's the deal, glands? Quitting so soon? Two measley decades and you throw in the towel? Whatever the cause - stress, hormones, not diet because I eat better now than ever - but I'm not bitter - karma has gotten the last laugh, and it seems the time has come for me to take a nosedive into the skincare aisle. First on the list: a lightweight foundation that can stand up to summer in sticky Washington, D.C. (which was built on swamplands, for the non-locals among us). Gulp.



Disclaimer: this stuff is not cheap. While I'm willing to skimp on things like white ribbed tank tops (Target, little boys' section - ya can't beat 'em!), anything that goes on or around the face is, to me, worth splurging on. Having had bad reactions to drugstore foundations and the mid-range, widely-loved Bare Minerals starter kit, I find that a pricey tube that will last me months is less costly than the loss of dignity that results from poorer-quality products.

But on to the positives: I'M IN LOVE. WITH A LITTLE BLUE BOTTLE OF $58 FOUNDATION. I have never tried any product that appears so natural but makes such a world of difference. My skin not only looks amazing - zero redness, invisible pores - but because Per-fékt foundation is silicone-based, it feels incredible too. We're talking baby's bottom territory. And I hate that phrase, so you know it's serious.

A couple of caveats: a little bit goes a long way, so have a salesperson show you how it's meant to be applied (start with the nose and spread outward, and don't use too much or it'll begin to flake). And test-drive it in the store first, because it is very lightweight - great for those of us who can hide our blemishes behind a sprinkling of freckles and a few swipes of bronzer, but not designed to mask more intense skin problems.

So maybe my skin, even at age 20, can no longer be perfect. But with a little cash, it can stay per-fékt for some time to come.

Evanesco, wizard robes. Accio, high fashion!

Yule Ball be damned. Look at little Miss Hermione Granger, all grown up and gracing the pages of Teen Vogue:













What a gorgeous editorial, shot by Norman Jean Roy and styled by Havana Laffitte (which sounds like the name of a Potter character, if you ask me). I a) want all of the clothes and b) am so impressed with Emma Watson! She looks beautiful. Total girl crush. I had given up on Teen Vogue when they said smoky eyes were back for the thirty-four thousandth time, but I may have to buy this issue just to cut it up and stick it on my wall for inspiration.

I'm currently in the process of rereading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows to get psyched for July's movie adaptation of Half-Blood Prince. I generally take issue with the Harry Potter films. I can't figure out who exactly they aim to please: fans of the novels are left disappointed by abandoned storylines, while those unexposed to the brilliance that is the book series enjoy them, but wonder what all the hype is about. This English major and self-professed Potter nerd thinks that Rowling's books are nothing short of masterful - and I wish the movies did them more justice, for the sake of both halves of the crowd.

I think they would have had a lot more success (artistically speaking, because God knows these things do just fine at the box office) had they waited, à la Lord of the Rings, for the right time to make these movies - for the full storyline to be released, for the perfect cast, for that one perfect director who understood the books completely. It does the story a disservice, really, to have made it subservient to so many different people's visions. Despite the fact that every notable British actor of the past half-century (minus my boyfriend, Colin Firth) has managed to worm their way into the project, I have to wonder if Potter's adventures could have been better immortalized had Warner Brothers not been so antsy to cash in.

...That being said, the trailers for Half-Blood Prince look epic and we all know I'll be seeing it at midnight. Who's with me?!

Quizically yours.

I skimp when buying:
...Tights? Let's be real here, I'm not much of a skimper.

I splurge when buying:
Underwear, perfume, make-up, high heels. Any clothing item I can justify to myself. So everything, really.

I always break this fashion rule:
Wearing black and brown together. Wearing black and navy together.

I never break this fashion rule:
Wearing a Canadian tuxedo that matches my significant other's.



Must-have item for Summer 2009:
Metallic gladiators, navy men's blazer, multi-chain necklace, tons of v-neck t-shirts. Jersey dresses in every color of the rainbow.

Favorite store:
H&M. Urban. American Apparel. Any boutique or vintage shop.

Style icon:
Carrie Bradshaw (not to be confused with Sarah Jessica Parker).

Most cherished accessory:
Gold necklace with tiny sun charm, cubic zirconium stud earrings, emerald and citrine cocktail rings - all courtesy of my late and terrifically elegant French grandmother, Jeannette Cavalier.

Favorite item of clothing:
Red Keds, watercolor Matty M top with braided neckline, any of my 1950s prom dresses from eBay.

Favorite "fashion-y" movie:
The Devil Wears Prada.

Guilty pleasure:
Black high-waisted skirts. I own at least four.

Describe your personal style:
Girly and eclectic.

I feel best wearing...
A day dress with platform heels.

Personal style quirk:
Wearing a broken watch.

Most overrated item:
Crocs. I don't care how comfortable they are: you look like a dumbass.

Most underrated item:
A great skin-colored torture thong.

Most stylish city:
Paris.

When I was high school I wore...
Freshman year: Pretty minis, my cropped jean jacket and a side ponytail with a hair ribbon.
Sophomore year: Lots of sparkly clothes that were in retrospect entirely inappropriate for daytime.
Junior year: Victorian tops. Preppy classics. Cowboy boots.
Senior year: Vintage dresses with black footless tights and ballet flats.

Shine your own shoes?
Never. But I've colored scuffed toes with a Sharpie.

Favorite fashion magazine:
Harper's Bazaar and Elle.

Perfume:
Betsey Johnson for spring and summer, Tocca "Stella" for fall, and Lolita Lempicka "L de Lolita Lempicka" for winter. All of which are composed of some combination of orange and musk/praline/vanilla. At least I'm consistent.

I always dress my best for...
Whenever I know that cameras will be present.

Seven things.

Poor Miley Cyrus. She just can't win. One second she gets slammed for being too bubblegum; the next, she's demonizing our nation's youth by showing her back on a magazine cover. I'll admit that I find the idea of her autobiography - Miles to Go, an inside look at the first sixteen years! - a bit ludicrous. But all things considered, it's not easy to grow up in the public eye, and Miley has managed to find a happy medium between Disney drone and crackwhore.

So here's my confession: I LOVE MILEY CYRUS. And what's more, I'm not ashamed to tell the world why. In honor of a song I've rocked out to everywhere from sorority house dance parties to the confines of my Maxima, here's a list of seven things about Miley I have found to be entirely worthy of our adoration.

1) Hannah Montana. It's sweet. It's entertaining. It's completely outlandish, and a key bonding point for my twelve-year-old sister and me.

2) "See You Again." Is there anyone who doesn't love this song? It made a cameo as my ringtone for about four months, changed only because waking up to its addicting bridge meant it looping through my head all day long. I still blast this one to get pumped before a big night out. I have Miley to thank for my liquid courage.

3) Her 2009 Oscar dress.



Say what you will about scalloped potatoes, but I see the Cinderella gown every little girl dreams of wearing. Pulling off this much fabric takes serious pluck, and girlfriend managed to wear this dress without it wearing her.

4) Her controversies, most of which have to do with Miley's being an open-minded, outspoken person. There's something endearing about how, much to the chagrin of the AFA, Miley publicly declared herself both a Christian and a proponent of gay marriage. They're still praying that God will show her the light. I'm still saying: GET IT, GIRL.

5) Her wardrobe on the Hannah Montana: The Movie press junket. I'm 100% in love with all four of these outfits:









I also wish she would stand up straighter...but hey, you can't win 'em all.

6) She dated Nick Jonas. Whether you love or hate the JoBros, he is the Justin Timberlake of this generation of preteens. The fact that she ended the relationship quietly and with class also speaks volumes about her maturity, especially when compared to more, er, dramatic starlets (Taylor Swift, anyone?).

And finally...

7) She is the offspring of the man who brought us "Achy Breaky Heart." Miley may be a lot of things, but genetically irrelevant is not one of them.

Asymmarvelous.

Just like swine flu, one-shoulder dresses are undeniably trendy. The challenge for the modern fashionista, then, is bringing a fresh edge to a style that conjures up images of everything from Hollywood starlets in floor-skimming goddess gowns to wild college students wearing makeshift togas.



Bright colors, girly ruffles and a flirtatious hemline keep this French Connection dress from feeling too ancient Greece. Throw on some simple drop earrings and a killer pair of platforms, and your outfit just might make us yell "OPA!"

Say goodbye to a tangerine sky.

Say hello to a tangerine skirt.







J. Crew, $58.

Envisioning this with flat sandals (as shown) and one of my beloved white v-necks. Add a gold cuff bracelet, a margarita and a tan and you may as well be in St. Tropez.

Speaking of which - what happened to All I Want Is Everything, the third (and my favorite) book in the Gossip Girl series? So many epic storylines that have yet to be touched in its CW adaptation. Producers, take note.

Stars + stripes = solid colors?

Painstakingly assembled outfits are great for those days when your first class happens to be at noon. But when you just pulled an epic all-nighter/you're addicted to the snooze button/you knocked back one too many at the Mark II Lounge last night, it's always a safe bet to default to good old American classics.



No time for make-up? Not a problem. Hide those puffy eyes behind a pair of sassy aviators. While you might get a couple of funny looks if you insist on wearing them all through lecture, your dignity will at least be safe in the walk to and from Kresge. Until you can save up for the Ray-Bans you've been dreaming of, this $5.80 pair from Forever 21 should do just fine (when buying low-end sunglasses, bear in mind that a label-less pair will always look chicer than cheesy rhinestones or unconvincing knock-offs).



If you asked me what clothing item I couldn't live without, I would sing the praises of the white American Apparel v-neck t-shirt. Classic cut, deep v-neck, organic cotton - I own about ten varieties, and I wear them to shreds monthly. With a high-waisted skirt and heels to go out. With jeans and a blazer for class. With nylon shorts at the gym. With colorful panties to sleep in. While the white ones are my favorites, I am gradually expanding my collection...





The latest bone of contention: acid wash or tri-blend?



Any jeans enthusiast will defend her brand to the death. My latest denim obsession? The J. Crew Matchstick. With a cut that's slightly more forgiving than your typical skinny jean, the Matchstick is well-suited to a Saturday night out and brunch the next morning.



And few things deserve to be treasured more highly than a pair of shoes that serves both form and function. The new Keds Champion, available in every color from plum to pumpkin, is the perfect accessory to give your uniform a splash of color. I just ordered these red ones online, and you can bet I'll be watching the mail room with an eagle eye for the next 5-10 business days.

Oh hey there, stud.

WAIT. I NEED THESE.







Piperlime, $175.

OBSESSED.

O-faced.

Northwestern is chock-full of talented people. Everyone seems to have their own thing going for them – a kind of calling, if you will. Some people are rock-star athletes, or can write circles around your average New York Times journalist, or, you know, add two-digit numbers without the aid of a graphing calculator. I respect that.

I happen to be really good at having orgasms.

I don’t mean that I have a lot of sex. I’m just what they call a highly orgasmic woman: meaning that sometimes when I do a few too many push-ups, or spend a little too long on the elliptical machine, I get that tell-tale throbbing in my loins that tells me I need to excuse myself for a bathroom break. Considering the weight given “The Elusive O” on the covers of trashy women’s magazines, you might think that being able to spontaneously produce the height of bodily pleasure is a nifty little thing to have in my bag of tricks.

I beg to differ.

Case One: Physical fitness testing in elementary school. The poor confused child trying to reach presidential level in flexed-arm hang while not betraying the waves of lustful sensation that are pulsating though her nine-year-old uterus. When I say ‘awk,’ you say ‘ward.’ Awk!

Anybody?

Okay, great.

Case Two: I have a roommate now. While in the old days – that great Golden Age of privacy – waking up to a random orgasm was a pleasant surprise, I’ve come to dread the hormone fluctuations and before-bed beverages that bring on weird, awkward vaginal euphoria caused in no part by naughty dreams or solo action under the sheets. Random orgasms are, like, not even an enjoyable experience anymore.

...Not even fair.

Case Three: Non-sex sexual acts. I had my first kiss relatively late in life, and while I’m happy to report that it did not make me come, for a long time that was a very valid concern. I get off watching romantic comedies sometimes – not in a way that makes me long for a white knight of my own, but in a way that makes me uncomfortable viewing them in the same room as my parents. If Titanic brought me to climax, then who’s to say you couldn’t lean in for a moment with someone, when all of a sudden..."Oh...OH...YES...oh God I’m sorry, you’re just a really good kisser!

Oh, orgasms. We have a love-hate relationship. But one perk of peaking that nobody can deny is that rosy glow that creeps into your cheeks right as the big moment rolls around.



Which brings me to my climax: Nars blush in "Orgasm." Long-hailed as the gold standard in natural flush, "Orgasm" is a peachy-pink shade with just enough shimmer to make you wonder if you might be imagining it. At $25, the price is steep for your average penny-pinching college student - but for those of us who make a herculean effort just to avoid looking sickly in the six-month-long Chicago winter, the PPW ("price per wear," one of my fave shopping concepts) is a low, low one indeed. I've gotten a number of compliments while wearing this blush. Most of which involve me - a redhead - looking tan. So I'll be darned if this little rubber compact hasn't wormed its way into my daily routine.

Granted, the beauty industry can never take a good thing and leave it alone:



So the brains behind Nars recently introduced "Super Orgasm." Brighter color, more imposing gold flecks...my professional opinion? Steer clear. An organic orgasm might be fine for discussion section, but one this, uh, glittery should be left in the bedroom. If you've got the budget to spring for a blush you can only reach for on Saturday nights, I would love to hear your glowing (har, har) review...for now, my orgasms may not be "Super," but they're just peachy for me.