PARIS, March 6, 2006 - By Sunday, nerves were frayed. In the Carousel
du Louvre, two women, both editors of respected publications,
complained of being patted down one too many times by overly zealous
security guards, by being talked to condescendingly by ushers who
figured they weren’t bright enough to understand what Aa1 meant on a
seating assignment, by being mistaken for potential terrorists ready to
blow up - a fashion show?! The season had led from Milan to Paris to
New York to London to Milan to Paris. Enough. Most everyone just wanted
to go home.
The Vuitton show on Sunday night was not a sweet, inspiring finale -
but a collection full of heavy clothes, an overkill of big ideas, of
strange fuzzy skirts and oversized fishing hats that obscured the
models faces. It looked like Marc Jacobs had just tired too hard. As
for the bottom line - the new set of accessory handbags - it was the
size that counted.
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