What to wear: Wool knee socks w/platforms
What to hair: Feather flower clips
What to listen to: Jean Jacques Goldberg
What to see: Scratch
What to rent: Unzipped
What to make-up: Metallic green eye shadow
What to covet: Turquoise and diamond jewelry
What to make: Cut-up punk t-shirt
What to read: The Plague
Who to lust after: Vincent Perez
What to plan: Trip to Paris!
What to drink: Brouilly
What to eat: Pain au chocolat

"Going to Neiman's and trying on the latest Spring shoes makes me smile."

Natasha Liszt
Berkeley, CA

The report from Paris is in...according to our sources, John Galliano's collection for Dior was utterly smashing! Uber-mannequin Gisele kicked off the show and strutted down the runway wearing a fuscia tunic paired with moccasin-boots...if only we could look so fab with that Mohawk. At the crux of the collection were the, "sexily recut" styles that drew from "a haul of Indian, South American, Mongolian and Tibetan materials (Style.com)." Things that stood out to our style maven were the the larger than life furs, and the flounced skirts that featured brocade trim. But of course Mr. Galliano had to pay homage to the late, great Mr. Dior and did so by outfitting the girls in coats and round-toe pumps that drew from the 1940's. And although our tastemaker in Paris was thrilled to be at the show, she exclaimed via phone (while sipping champagne) that the spectacle was, "tres estrange"!

The Fall collection that Ennio Capasa designed for Costume National focused heavily on the premis of the "sexed-up, good girl". Although this picture features a glorious suit in winter white, most of Capasa's collection focused on darker tones. However, the black pieces that were featured did not draw up the notion of somber darkness, but rather told a tale of a modern woman who knows when to use the sleekness of black to her style advantage. Although the looks bordered on being tough, they came off as assertive and confident.

Arrived 11 a.m. and was whisked to Chloe's Soldes de Presse (Sample Sale), which is housed in an open space lined with racks of last season's discounted discards. I am shocked that women openly disrobe (there are no dressing rooms) with others' XXXXX present. But even the most puritanical American visitors shed inhibitions to try on two thousand dollars dresses marked down just under 2 G's. And ooh-la-la the French women! I've never seen so many pert breasts in one place since 8th grade gymnastics. The Strip Mall would take on a whole new meaning if this practice became an American past time. I have a feeling men would line up to hold our purses while we shopped. Despite all the frenzy and public nudity, I left empty handed, but not without trying on everything in the place. [Note to husband: I may or may not have participated in Chloe's open policy.]

Next Stop? The Dior Show. I tried not to stare at Anna Wintour but did manage very coolly and discreetly to snap a picture of the back of her head. Wintour, a wool and feather suited skeleton with a poker face, kept her giant shades on from the moment she stepped out of her chariot and probably still has them on now. But I was more intrigued by the French Gold Medallists in Pair Skating who sat in front of me and looked adorably dazed and unfashionable at the cameramen and photographers who snapped away furiously until the light dimmed. The show itself was I guess, okay. Sure, I was thrilled to sit across from the world's great fashion editors and yes it was heady to see Giselle in person strutting her stuff only a few feet away (sorry darlings, she is that perfect in real life!) but the clothes were a cross between a 1940's bordello and Nanook from the North [translation: Les Miserables]. But, I'm hoping to be wowed by Gautier and Galliano over the weekend.

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