In the opinion of many, the glow of couture week is becoming exceedingly inappropriate. Three days dedicated to the parading of glitz and wealth seems obtrusive amongst today's crippling economies. The juxtaposition of haute couture and the current middle-eastern crisis renders fashion insignificant; an unnecessary opportunity to smear money across the screens of millions. Untouchable riches.
This being said, the bi-annual event remains a personal guilty pleasure. Although a sinful presence underlies my indulgence, laced between my mixed emotions lingers waves of thrill. We cannot explain the excitement that is tickled by Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pier Paolo Piccioli. Or for that matter, justify our needs for the silks of Saint Laurent. Perhaps our desires are set alight from the knowing that these objects are out of our reach; like a forbidden love - forget Romeo, we'll take Elie Saab.
As ridiculous as the need for the Chambre Syndicale de la Haute Couture may be in comparison to the shocking societal crises of today, I find the coming days to be the most thrilling of the industry calendar. We may well be dancing with the devil, for the temptation of couture is often too otherworldly for us to ignore. Angelic creative direction, embroidery and detail, cohesively blossoming in each individual piece. This is Haute Couture. An incomparable luxury. Often inappropriate.. never overlooked.
IVD
