Sad Saks

Is it me or do the Milan shows seem especially somber this year? I clicked through show after show only to find small remnants of the talent that was once there. Maybe the economy is finally effecting fashion. For years, everyone's been battling diminishing economies. Perhaps this is the trickle down effect. Critics bemoaned designers, claiming shoppers were putting their money into more responsible things like mortgages and braces for their teenage daughters, but I didn't see it. The shops looked pretty full to me. But this spring's Milan shows have me wishing for an eternal winter.

Although I applaud them for some unconventional casting choices, their proportion play that brought new heights to big sleeves, and you know I love a short (way) above the knee, I miss the decadence and glamor of Dolce & Gabbana. What happened to the gilded gold accents? What happened to the army of muscled men in tank tops clinging to their taut chests stomping down the runway to whisk me away to a better life? The collection looked like a glimpse into someone's life as a field hand back in the old country and that's exactly what I was getting from the collection - old. Not nostalgic, not reminiscent. Just plain old. I did like some of the busier prints - a sign they haven't completely abandoned their aesthetic, but plain striped polos are not Dolce & Gabbana. I can get that at my local Save-a-Lot. Overall, the collection was a little beige. No, brown. If the Dolce & Gabbana collection were a color it would be brown, and honestly I don't know if that's better or worse. The collection has left me with a sense of ambivalence that I'm just not used to feeling towards the brand. Thankfully, they did partake in the ceremonial man parade. Sadly, this time it was more like a funeral procession.

Jil Sander was alright. It was Jil Sander's Jil Sander and not the edgy Raf Simons' Jil Sander that I'm used to. Reminiscent, of her simple capsule collections with Uniqlo, I think it's going to take some time for Sander to really find her footing; which, I suppose is understandable considering her absence. I don't remember when she left, nor do I recall any details of her departure, but I do know it was just that - a departure. She had to sever ties with the brand she created for a reason. Whether it needed new life, I don't know, but it certainly got it with Raf Simons, who if anything put the label on my radar. I did like her sleeveless blazer suits and the "Ladies Who Lunch" Mondrian-esque cardigans. The cobalt blue looks were cute and a nice color trend that I'm starting to see this season. I like the wide cut jackets except they seem a little Raf Simons 101 as well as the printed tees with what looked liked numbers. You could see Simons' handwriting in nearly every look. As for the other jackets, I don't know how useful they'll be in the warmer months. I get the sense that she showed those jackets just to throw something down the runway, as if to say "Look Ma, a full collection!". The collection was safe, which I'm sure is a brand driver the company doesn't want to be associated with. If only we could freeze the fashion clock at Fall 2012, Simons' final menswear collection for the brand, and just kind of alter it as the seasons saw fit- a sleeve here, a pant leg there. Then we wouldn't have to have this conversation. I feel bad, In her designer photo she's positively beaming unshakably proud of her clothes. And I want to tell her "Why are you smiling? You did a mediocre job at best". The clothes weren't ugly, they just weren't cool. Jil Sander used to be for the cool kids, not their grandpa's.

Maybe Miuccia is on vacation. Maybe she left the country, or even the planet, and couldn't be reached because I refuse to believe that the woman that brought us jewel studded golf shoes is responsible for this "famine of beauty". I believe Prada can certainly do better than mildly color blocked polos and bottoms, and tank tops with contrasting trim. I'm assuming the geriatric models were a statement. Mr. Rodgers was apparently her muse. Nursing home socials, her intended setting. There were some jackets that wouldn't make my skin crawl entirely and I suppose I could find somewhere to wear a few of the trousers, but nothing to write home about. There weren't even accessories to drool over. The collection felt restrained, and undesirably so. Like, a masked gunman made her do it. At least, that's what I'm choosing to believe.

Giving me flashbacks of the dark days when Ed Hardy was king, Alexis Mabille, a brand and designer I have come to admire, was a disappointment. The collection was frat boy casual. Usually his clothing has a designed casualness to it (see Jesus of Nazareth chic Spring 2011 collection). I understand this was the designer's first showing at Pitti Uomo, but there wasn't much that couldn't be found on the sale rack at Sears. This is a world stage for menswear, let's step it up. I had hoped this was a joke collection, with the real collection to debut in Paris where real fashion had sought refuge. It seems like Mabille was reaching out to a new customer - you know, the guys that worship Christian Louboutin sneakers and yet don't even know how to pronounce his name. I remember a time when Alexis Mabille was thought provoking, controversial, something I actually wanted to wear. And now, he's become the costume director for Jersey Shore. Ladies and gentlemen, let the fist pumping begin.

The images shown are all I could resurrect from the wreckage full collections. I feel it necessary to clarify that I really was rooting for these guys, and not just waiting to dance on the graves of their creativity. Past seasons have revealed stellar, awe-inspiring collections - the Prada espadrille oxford mash-up and the stunning yet simplistic Jil Sander Spring 2011 show are just two examples of this group's flawless report card - and that's what I was expecting, what I assumed I would be getting. But as spiritual law dictates, "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me". My only hope is that next year will yield collections so mind-blowingly exquisite that it will be impossible to look at them directly without eye protection.

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Pitti Uomo wasn't a complete travesty. At the end of the day, the Milanese are known for fashion and at least a few designers stayed true to that legacy. Two of such saving graces are featured below:

It seems I'm the only one who hasn't mistaken Burberry's dyed aluminum foil fiasco for the second coming of Jesus. In certain pieces - short sleeve shirts, cardigans, and trench coats - it looked like wrapping paper or someone's backyard reenactment of the Matrix trilogy. But in others, where it was more subtle, it was also more successful. The metallic bomber jackets are a perfect example of this. I'm also dangerously intrigued by the metallic pants, although, I'm not entirely sure I won't look like a tube of lipstick in them. Finally, it seems only natural that in a collection of bright and sparkly, I've become partial to the darker, earth-toned pieces. I'm convinced military green is the new black and have fallen hard for the unconventional silhouette of Burberry's take on military machoism. Overall, Burberry showed some smart outerwear - from high collared and olive drab, to reflective and possibly heat conductive, to perfectly printed - each one, in its own way, was beautiful. But in the fashion world, saying a Burberry coat was beautiful is like saying the sky is blue.

Thom Browne's clothes don't generally fit most men's definition of "wearable", but for me they do. I can always expect a bit of fairytale drama in his designs for Moncler Gamme Bleu - sweeping capes, enshrouding hoods, playful shorts á la Hansel and Gretel - there's always thought behind the look, which, I suppose, is the genesis of his intelligent collections. I've written about Thom Browne before, so in efforts to not sound like a sad groupie with his name tattoed across my chest, all I will say is that I love where he's taking menswear. I love where he's taking fashion. Fashion is fun again. White has been a staple for the brand and it's amazing to see what Thom Browne can do with what many don't even consider a color. It makes me want to trade my wardrobe in for his carte blanche, snow white creations, which I would gladly do, if my food ended up in my stomach instead of on it.