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FEBRUARY 11, 2014
NEW YORK
By Tim Blanks
Girl power! The concept was debased by Geri Halliwell's endless, witless proselytizing, but Luella Bartley was happy to revive it after the sensational Marc by Marc Jacobs show today, her first as co-designer with Katie Hillier. (BTW, it will be henceforth known as MBMJ, just like the knee socks said.) There was something so fiercely ninja-pop-militant about the presentation that girl power was the irresistible takeaway. In the recent past, MBMJ's shows have been a neutral parade of girls and boys in vintage-inflected schmatta. Bartley and Hillier ditched the boys. Wise move. We all know girls rule the world, and, minus the draggy testosterone, the collection finally took fierce flight. Back, said Bartley, to its kicky roots. So all the BMX lingo on the clothes—Revolution! Bunny Hop! Twisted! Uprising! —functioned as a goofy manifesto.
The show felt like a consummation of the spirit that underpins the entire Marc Jacobs enterprise. New York born and bred he may be, but Marc himself is infatuated with the nuances of the fashion tribes that have shaped style since the youthquaking sixties. And no one gets nuance like a Brit club kid. So how savvy is it of Jacobs to surround himself with Londoners like Bartley, Hillier, Katie Grand, and Venetia Scott? The first look today—a soldier in Marc's fashion army—was accessorized with pigtails and a single tear streaking the model's cheek. Instantly defiant/romantic, it set the tone for the rest of the show. If some outfits looked Bolshevik apparatchik, others had the knife-pleated, crinolined flair of a Dickens chick, wrapped in a bow. Urchin girls! The poignancy of such creatures gave MBMJ an edgy new life. So did the solid-soled trainers. Attitude starts from the ground up. And this collection had attitude in fabulous spades.
MBMJ or Hood by Air?
Marc by Marc Jacobs’s Imaginative Restart
BY ROBIN GIVHAN
Part of the magic of fashion occurs when a designer creates a fanciful world that is so clearly defined, so utterly detailed, that he or she not only convinces you that it is real — but makes you want to live there.
[...] The new creative team at Marc by Marc Jacobs tossed a lot of imaginative ideas onto the runway at Pier 36 Tuesday evening, but they never coalesced into a singular point of view. Most of the inspiration drew overtly from Japanese comic books with their eye-popping colors, kitschy violence, and kooky characters. But Luella Bartley and Katie Hillier also mixed in full schoolgirl skirts inflated by pleated petticoats and oversize sweaters that looked as though they might have been inspired by a vagabond princess.
The whole thing was a confusing mishmash of ideas; some elements quite pretty, others simply strange and awkward. But all of it was interesting. They made one want to see more. And to be fair, this is only their first season at the helm. It takes a while to create a universe.
As the first models marched along the wide, expansive runway, they resembled pig-tailed superheroes in wrestling boots, moon boots, boxing belts, knee-high socks, and jackets emblazoned with anime characters. Much of the strangeness was in the styling. (Isn’t it always?) Pleated trousers that looked like they might have a beautiful, fluid drape were tucked into knee socks so that they resembled golfing britches.Super-wide belts threw off proportions and made the models look like attenuated ninjas. And, back to the knee socks: Only elementary-school girls actually look good in knee socks — everyone else looks a bit like cougars on the make.
Still, the arrival of Bartley and Hillier immediately gave Marc Jacobs’s second line a jolt of pop-culture camp, taking it from a whimper to a roar. The collection looked younger and quirkier than it has in the past. It had a tough-girl attitude, as evoked by the models who stomped their way around the wide, open warehouse in their graphic T-shirts, martial-arts references, and sarcastic, hyper-feminine riffs.
There was something quietly artful about the old Marc by Marc Jacobs. But it is a testament to the brand’s namesake that he held little sentimentality for the label’s past. Instead, he sat front row and watched this new vision unfold, one that speaks to a consumer who is more global, more defiant and whose artful endeavors are more like to emerge from a computer than an easel.
Those skirted looks at the end are pure Luella goodness, the rest is junk.