guh. how depressing.
A cavalcade of unsettlingly tousled models advanced through mist across a devastated aftershock. Under savage, nomadic layers they sought shelter from further disaster, shrouded beneath burly capes which partially covered tiers of soft shirt fabric. Powerful and determined in stance, the models dominated the elements from behind chunky, dishevelled knits whose slouchy mould permitted forced movement.
Herringbone tweeds influenced vigorously, as always, but were slacking more in their shape, with tactile, ragged feathers escaping from collars and cuffs of typically dainty princess coats. Underneath said attire, were slight integrations of evening-wear; empire line dresses, of which there were few, appeared corroded and dismantled whilst paired opposingly with contaminating "sports-wear" accents, such as long fingerless gloves and tweed leg-warmers. (please god don't bring them back)
However, Lagerfeld's current hotbed of design technique belonged in the field of trousers. Pivoting the collection were charcoal skinny jeans with smoke damaged pattern leading into rugged ankle boots and heavy flat brogues. Boiler suits also made a seasonal "comeback", under the Chanel label, loosely tailored and folded at the ankle to disclose a gamine kitten heel.
As always with Chanel, drama volcanically exploded, submerging onlookers into a bubbling pool of stylish excitement, drowning in an electrifying atmosphere. Regardless of personal aversions to overrated tweed jackets and tacky quilted bag replicas, Chanel is quite often the high point of fashion's weekly jaunts across the globe setting a precedent for next season's extravaganza and putting on an unforgettable show.
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