(Originally published November 5, 2003.)
Welcome to the fifth installment of Haute or Not! No, these are not bad Halloween costumes, but actual high fashion, believe it or not. All images are from Firstview.
Let’s start with a nice, spooky ballgown from V.G. Tarloyan. The skirt is not bad if you’re into the extreme hoopy thing, with a vibrant stripe of orange to offset all that menacing black brocade. Then there’s a medieval-princess styled headpiece which comes down mysteriously over the model’s face. But the evil-queen look factor is greatly diminished by the presence of Cookie Monster’s googly eyeballs.
Unfortunately, I don’t know who did this one, and it’s probably for the best. Cthulhu tentacles just don’t go well with ecru.
It just wouldn’t be a Haute or Not without an appearance by Alexander McQueen, and here he is doing fairy-tale ballgowns over in badass 80’s denim, like a scene from some sort of surrealistic teen movie. This looks like the part where Cinderella has just stomped out of the house, after totally kicking the ass of one of her evil stepsisters — shooting her, running her over with the family Camaro, and pissing on her head.
It’s been a lot of fun watching femme excess from bygone eras make their way into today’s fashion, like Moulin Rouge can-can skirts and Victorian corsets adapted for modern wear. However, pairing a Marie Antoinette frilled bodice top with blue jeans? This looks like Dolce and Gabbana attempting to be both peasant and aristocrat simultaneously, via fashionista heels. Ugh!
Chickens and peekaboo skirts? Who woulda thought? Arkadius, that’s who. Here we have a high-waisted pinstriped pencil skirt accented in orange, with a keyhole crotch – hey, now that’s something you don’t see very often – flanked by a trio of orange birds perched on a branch. Weirdly enough, the worst part of this ensemble is that upper-right fourth bird, who just lends an air of dowdiness.
Here’s a textbook example of how NOT to get past the velvet ropes at Studio 54, brought to you by Comme Des Garcons. First, take a plain black blouse and hike a purple and white floral cincher up over your breasts so that the bottom sticks out awkwardly. Next, take a pair of nasty early-80’s striped satin running shorts and clash them with a pair of pinchy black shoes. Lastly, leave your hair exactly as it appeared when you first got out of bed. Voila! Now go the fuck home, you’re scaring the other patrons.
Fausto Puglisi beautifully illustrates one of my all-time worst nightclubbing peeves with this ensemble. Something I absolutely can’t stand is when people bring drinks and handbags onto a crowded dancefloor, and, thus hindered, bring down the everybody-cut-loose vibe by tamely bending their knees in time to the music. Whether you’re a mild-mannered secretary out for a Wild 80’s Night at Rooster’s Roadhouse or a slumming rich-bitch socialite who’s drunkenly hopped onto a strip-joint stage, you look really fucking stupid dancing with a purse!
Byblos. “Honey, look what I brought you home from the Star Trek convention! Chenille tribbles!”
Oh yeah, punk is back, Comme Des Garcons thinks so, punk is so in, it’s so punk-rock to wear plaid, yeah, let’s start with a rather cool plaid fitted jacket and go sit on a Doberman!
It must really suck to diet for years, struggle against hunger pangs and deprive your body of strength and nourishment, and starve your way into the perfect hourglass figure, only to have Frank Sorbier come along and start arranging foliage in your bosom.
Here’s a cute look for spring, from Ines Valentinisch: a chipper yellow-dotted top with tied shoulders, matched with orange and yellow striped calf boots that are actually kind of cute, and for a little pizazz, a skirt made entirely from Daffy Duck beaks.
What is going on here? Why are we throwing fruit at this woman? Who on earth throught food stains looked great sliding down white chiffon? Oh, right, Arkadius. Strangely enough, this model looks so…intent.
Bella Freud. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present – vagina dentata!
From Alexander McQueen, it’s John the Baptist’s Revenge! This is something that 
Now, I’m all for fashion that breaks the rules, messes things up, and takes things out of context, but breasts are supposed to be attractive, right? RIGHT? Here they look like a pair of alien eyeballs peeking up through what looks like a punk attempt at a track suit–and no, not in a good way–made even worse by Miss Creepynipples’ ren-faire hair(and crimped!). Way to go, Antonio Berardi.
It’s well-known by now that all that backstage champage has posed problems of alcoholism for many a model, but this isn’t exactly something you want to flaunt, is it? Well, not unless you’re Galliano.
Oh, lovely! Survivor chic from Diesel! What a brave departure from pouty glam: a prematurely aging chickie staggering around exhausted in cheapo flip-flops, in desperate need of sunblock, looking for all the world like there should be a car with three screaming kids in it lurking around somewhere. And that stick across her back? Oh, nothing, just a metaphor.
The faeries’ version of cigarette girls, via Arkadius.
This pink satin gown by Ji Haye starts off nicely at the top, with a droop of fabric across the back shoulders, long, fitted sleeves like femme gauntlets, and a sweet bow tied at the back waist…and the rest of it just looks like a freakin’ bedspread. (Note from 2010: I would love something like this for lounging around my apartment. It’s like the world’s most decadent Snuggie.)
Frank Sorbier. What happens when your Fairy Godmother forgets her magic wand and simply barfs a new ballgown all over you.
Givenchy. I actually kind of like this. While some snarkiness about wearing a Lite Brite set is inevitable, it looks very Hellraiser. Well done! Well, kind of.
Ah, where do we begin. Thank you, Arkadius, for blessing us with this monstrosity. Apparently corsets, even when cinched to within an inch of your life, are not enough containment for all that feminine wildness. Even worse, someone thought this piece erotic enough to deserve runway nudity.
Cosmic Wonder. Indeed. “But…but…I really wanted to be in Emily’s Ghoul School! Shoot, I can’t hang with the goths…maybe if I grow this cute little orange tail and put on this mopey little face the Yum Pop people will put me on a babydoll tee?”
OK, so feathers have now become a glam staple, but this is overkill. I don’t know what mystery or erotica Eymeric Francois found in a bag of dead chickens, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping the model, who seems to be oblivious to the feathers leaking from her couture mesh.
Now here’s something rough and rugged to appeal to the rivethead aesthetic! Spiff up those cheesy 80’s one-shouldered tank tops with–a unibra from Dirk Bikkenbergs! Yes, how tough, perhaps meant to remind one of Amazon lore, yes, how stylish, giving up on belts and moving upward to provide more contrast of color and texture, yes, how weird, if you consider how this looks when wearing it as lingerie.
Givenchy. No comment needed.
And the bride wore breasts! This Anand Jon peek-a-boob number stands up and says “hello” on your special day!
Marjan Djodjov Pejowski. Is this designer saying, “we are all just pawns of the fashion industry?” Is the fold-out wonder of holiday accordion tissue really that fascinating to work with? Do we really just enjoy looking at models making complete asses of themselves?
First up, Christian Dior, who really needed to take that season off. You know, this outfit looks less like an artistic expression and more of a distress call. It’s not just that it’s a straitjacket – it’s a straitjacket done BADLY. I can hear giggles from the fetish community, somewhere out there in the great fashion cosmos. Balloon animals tied listlessly in the hair just tops it all off with, “I’ve given up.”
Ohhhh, isn’t this a lovely. You know, it really is something to find out that wearing intestines on one’s head was considered fashionable. The rest of the ensemble just looks embarrassing – perhaps I’m supposed to think of Greek statuary, or the female form erotically covered in mud, but instead I’m thinking about those cheesy “boobs” T-shirts sold at tacky souvenir shops all along the Jersey shore. Shame on you, Mr. Gaultier.
The sad thing is, this outfit would be actually kind of cool if John Galliano hadn’t decided to have a rockinghorse erupt from this woman’s bosom. On perusing some of his other work, sometimes I wonder if he chooses his models by putting his worst enemies up on the catwalk.
Dior again. Proof that people who create $500 shirts really, really look silly trying to cash in on rave fashion. While the thing on the left isn’t too bad, albeit uninspired with a stupid T-shirt logo – come on, can you really associate haute couture and stoners? acid trips? – it’s a lot better than having a giant blue star crawling into your ass.
Another Galliano. While fashion models inspire envy for looking thin, seductive, pretentious, better-than-thou, and supposedly perfect, one thing they can’t do is look tough. I damn near fell out of my chair lauging at Girlfriend here. I’m sorry, this just looks ridiculous.
