Three- some looks

Whitney Peak in Chanel ’25. 

I love a Chanel hat. Structured, but never in-your-face. Or: more tantalising than a hairpiece.

Here, starts the look with a boater hat. The eye, drawn to a perfectly linear shade, proceeds, naturally to flow down through the look.

Seconding the hat: a black boucle jacket, that casually Chanel hallmark, spurts out a bright pink, silk blouse, cornered in pussy-bow.

The look’s kinda street, all these feminine pieces thrown together, but easily and quickly integrated by the eye, affording a sense of immediacy.

Extending dapper street, you’ve a heavy skirt leg, dressed down in boater shoes. To sum, a look for anyone with classy attitude.

Tilda Swinton in Margiela ’16. 

I see glamourous fairy floss. Maybe it’s the explosion of central panels into a deconstructed star- the silver belt, a galactic throwback, with edges as hard as a cross print.

It’s a blast from the past, a time when women lacked motifs, symbols of support and confidence, afraid to fully express a talisman. And yet, it’s there, the quirky, fluffy breastbone, pieced together, and therefore interpreted, as a symbol of regency and hope.

Adding to the embedded meaning of the dress, is the all-white, 17th century cloak. I mean, I guess 17th century because John Galliano, head of Margiela, draws heavily from same.

So, returning to the look- A version of regalia and backdated Christian ideals. Tilda’s forever pixie side-sweep and, heavily patented boots, also gives hidden.

Presenting as a female but with a hit of masculinity, a cloaked though clear message: Tilda’s designer is a star.

Rihanna in Giambattissta Valli ’17. 

And why doesn’t this give fairy floss? Here, Rihanna plays into modern ballerina in a frothy pink tulle. Giambattista Valli no less. A celebrated purveyor of understated though simultaneously loud femininity.

The pastel ballerina suggests a quiet femininity, eked out by a ballerina’s practiced development of female form.But the flouncy layers, a cutsie mini-dress and train, throw the concept in your face.

As we work our way down the dress, the Roman-Greco ballerina tie-ups are a last-hurrah, a final reminder that we’re beautifully affronted but at the same time, gently presented with ballerina-esque privilege.