"we are all in the gutter but some of us are looking at the stars"

Never tell me that not one star of all
That slip from heaven at night and softly fall
Has been picked up with stones to build a wall.
(A star in a stoneboat)


Robert Frost painted a picture, coloured with curiosity about our place among the infinities. Upon tranquil jaunts through our own imaginations, we approach immeasurable darkness punctuated by droplets of iridescent light, fascinated by electrifying fear of the desolate unknown. Our innate, celestial enchantment, poetically draws the acknowledgement of something vaster, out-stretching the human grasp, but in picturesque portraiture, drives exhilarating neutrality, at first blush.





The intrinsic galactic infatuation bleeds not only through poetry and art but also writhes around romantically in fashion. Through an array of seasonal skies, designers have ignited the cosmic spark, littering garments with sci-fi sensibility, often playfully subsuming pop-art innocence but sometimes brooding a foreboding peculiarity.


 


Yves Saint Laurent launched their first mission with vibrant, printed rive-gauche tunics in the 1970s but relived the planetary pursuit through Pilati's 2008 star-spangled, perspex iconography.

Christopher Kane is another cosmic pioneer whose dusky, digitised nebular explosions voiced still obscurity over the 2010 catwalks, whilst murmuring sinister style undertones through his back-catalogue of other-worldly prints.

Miu Miu's ss 2011 collection scattered a galaxy of starry-eyed, metallic motifs, grazing satire in acclaim of Andy Warhol's "fifteen minutes" and referencing a current preoccupation with "stardom", beyond that of the sweeping night-sky placidity.

Most recently, however, Dolce and Gabbana entered a procession of flowing chiffon dresses, weeping like an incandescent lake under a moonlit heaven, savagely interrupted by propelling prints, serving a 1980s logo asphyxiation.