A stern parade of mournful models marched down the catwalk suited in square cut coats, flat shoes, hiding bitterness beneath a wide brimmed hat. In austere black, these sombre, southern belles drove a funeral parade, grieving the loss of something unknown.
For Elbaz, it was an occasion to amplify dramatics. Behind a set-designed weeping willow, the ladies adopted Robert Frost stoicism; emotionally detaching themselves under severely structured dresses whose accents flowed with control. However, crashing through a pragmatic palette of neutral shades, were signature jewel toned, flesh baring, party dresses. With exaggerated ruffles, sensual asymmetric neck-lines and master crafted drapery, decorated with exuberant jewels, the dresses sighed with soothing optimism but were almost immediately dragged back to a bleak reality with pitiless black gloves and a lamenting rose motif.
Waling sorrow bled through a void and distant facade. As Dior begs a successor, i deem this; Elbaz's subconscious swan song.
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