When, six months ago, Marc Jacobs showed a diffusion line plundering a particular strain of geek chic (a speciality of his including retro prints and stiff tunics in bold, block colours), his efforts were generally applauded. Compared with his mainline show and its complicated ode to Surrealism, this 1970s vision offered more promising and wearable results.
But anyone hoping for some sort of design continuity to add another few purchases perhaps to this theme would have been disappointed by Tuesday’s decision to revisit a glossed-up, grunge aesthetic. It was yet another departure from the designer who is criticised for changing direction at breakneck speed, giving us air-hostess frump one minute and paeans to 1950s housewives the next.
Was there much to say about the bovver boots, funnel neck grey/blue tweed dresses with multiple fastenings teamed with Dennis the Menace striped cardis, and black berets? Not really. Come September, will we rush out to buy hound’s-tooth check, box-shape coats and deconstructed Eighties tailoring? Probably not. This hurtling through the decades is disorientating, especially should you ever wish actually to buy clothes that reflect the mood of the moment.
You could simply view it as a marketing ploy to get you to buy a new wardrobe every six months although that would be to underestimate today’s savvy consumer who, with the choice on offer, can dress how she pleases. Certainly, after a visit to the “Marc by Marc Jacobs” store in Bleecker Street, you understood that this is a designer well-versed in making a quick buck from anyone desperate for the “Marc” seal of approval.
Gargantuan rings/patent wallets/ umbrellas/key fobs and all manner of plastic paraphernalia with the designer’s stamp sat in Perspex vats. While not exactly expensive the brolleys were £8 they weren’t exactly cheap either. More to the point, the shop was packed with teenagers and women in their twenties happily picking out an affordable slice of the retail pie.
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That Jacobs retains his exclusivity with his mainline collection sold from a separate store is no mean feat given the Bleecker Street scrum, not to mention the gimmicky nature of much that was sold there. At labels such as Narciso Rodriguez and Michael Kors cosmetic and perfume lines aside the level at which you buy into the brand is a lot higher; double-faced cashmere does not come cheap. But at least you know where you stand.
For Rodriguez it was the same streamlined, monochromatic silhouettes with exaggerated shoulders and exposed seams, as well as the odd jolt of colour by way of a tangerine ruched dress. And while there was less of the souped-up “Glamazonian” at Kors, his Fifties/Miss Moneypenny approach was as sexy, especially factoring in the cinched at-the-waist leopard-print pencil skirts and hint of what lay beneath those floral prom dresses.
The palette of violet, camel and lime was a little saccharine (or rather, very commercially minded) but most women will have no problem slotting it into the rest of their wardrobe.