What I (should) talk about when I talk about fashion

Color.


Detail.


Elegance.

(all photos of vintage Lanvin, all courtesy of the Googs)

I live in a veritable library. If you were to peruse one of the bookshelves in my house, you would be able to acquaint yourself with the finer aspects of woodworking, couture sewing techniques, and bread baking. While my interest hasn't been piqued by woodworking (yet! No, probably never.), I've recently taken an interest in the many fashion books we stock. My dad and I have looked through them together on many occasions--he would talk to me about the finer points of a certain designer's aesthetic, and I would ooh and ahh over the pretty photographs--but I've now taken to swiping them on my own.

I know! I'm growing up!

I gravitated toward more "known" designers at first, like Chanel and Christian Dior, but this past December I peeked at a Lanvin book. It was full of the most beautiful pieces of clothing that I think I will ever see--save for the Charles James Butterfly Dress. I challenge anyone who says that haute couture doesn't deserve to be defined as art. These pieces are not a "Resort Collection" at Forever 21 (and yes, that actually exists. For shame.) Vintage clothing from those houses stands as a physical representation of hundreds, and often thousands of hours of work. Since the demand for haute couture has decreased, we may never see pieces as exquisite as these ever again. That is something worth bemoaning, but rather than launch into a diatribe of "UGH! What happened to hand-sewn beaded trains and miles of rouched taffeta?", I'm just going to post some more gorgeous pictures.


Miley Cyrus wore something like this to last year's(?) Oscars. IT BEST NOT BE THE ACTUAL VINTAGE DIOR.

Hi, Balenciaga. You're perfect.

Gimme that Yves St. Laurent. Right now.

And that concludes the "Vintage Picturefest" portion of this week's blog posts!