Dressful

Viktor & Rolf, "Long Live the Immaterial", Fall/Winter 2002/03

Gone are the times when New York City and Yohji Yamamoto were a novelty, something unreachable. I have lost a good portion of my proverbial naivety, my notebook holding the words "I guess I'm no longer a dreamer". Perhaps the hibernation of poetic thoughts has sharpened my senses in a different way. Why are the most crushingly immense transitional places always metaphysical?

Yohji Yamamoto Fall/Winter 2012/2013 show.
March 2, 2012.
Lycée Carnot, Paris 17e.

Attending Yohji Yamamoto's show at Paris fashion week was an experience so out of this world that I took a few days off to process it and collect my thoughts before writing a review. To illustrate just how important it was for me – if you asked me at the beginning of the season, "If you could attend any show at any fashion week, which one would you choose?", I'd have answered Yamamoto without hesitation. While I refuse to have a favorite designer – I think it's not good manners to cultivate such subjectiveness when you work in fashion – Yohji Yamamoto is my most important designer. Discovering his work when I was 15 was the foundation for everything I've done in fashion since then. Without Yamamoto sparking my interest in what I call "fashion beyond the surface", I would have never started blogging. He showed me that women and garments can be beautiful in a much more mature and intelligent way than what is perpetually being pitched to us by the majority of fashion magazines, beauty ideals and clothing conventions.

Apart from extraordinary shapes, cuts and deconstruction, Yohji Yamamoto's garments possess such elegance that I remained not only intrigued, but in love.

By your third season attending fashion weeks, you learn not to take unapproved show requests personally. Still, dining in a small brasserie overlooking the Arc de Triomphe on Thursday, I was suddenly consumed by a pulsating, anxious thought that Yohji Yamamoto's Fall/Winter 2012/2013 show was to take place the next day – not only in the same city, but also in the same district, only 20 minutes away from my hotel – and that I wasn't going to be there. It ached. It ached, though I know by now that shows are never larger than life; I couldn't go to Yamamoto last October either and I was able to shake it off. This uncanny, overwhelming feeling really was my sixth sense telling me it was time to make an exception and consider abolishing my only fashion week rule: not trying to get into shows without invitation.

Sneaking into shows past security is considered the most impolite thing you can do at fashion week, and I certainly wouldn't want anyone to remember me for that. Instead, I decided to ask Yamamoto's PR ladies if I could go in though I didn't have the invitation; if they said no, I would respect it and not be disappointed because I did try. I was encouraged by the maneuvers I saw at Barbara Bui earlier that day. They let in everyone who had asked after having seated guests with invitations, a refreshing change from the usual show uptightness and elitism. Somehow, I knew that because I feel so connected to Yamamoto and the brand is not like the others, they would probably understand me.

Though going against my invitation rule made me slightly uncomfortable at first, I realized that maybe the best way to show Yamamoto's PR team how much attending the show means to me might just be to go and tell them.

The show was scheduled for 7:30, which meant it wasn't going to start until eight. I decided to walk to to Lycée Carnot because it was near, but of course, I got lost along the way (with a map in hand). At one point, I wanted to go back because I was late, I thought I'd miss the show and I had no idea where I was, but luckily I knew better than that and kept on walking. When I finally found the street, I rushed to the entrance. There was no queue any more, only two PR ladies, security and a few photographers waiting for people to come out of the show.

The following was the most magical conversation I've ever had with anyone at fashion week, and I will remember it forever:

"I don't have the invitation, but I'd love to see the show. Can I please go to standing room?"
- "Because you asked very formally and you have a nice international accent, I say yes."

That was it. No fuss. She understood immediately.

As indicated by the lack of queue, the show was just about to start, so I ran in as fast as I could, shouting back "Thank you so much!".

When I got inside, I found myself in a standing room space right by the second row. Essentially, I've never had a better view at a show before. I couldn't believe my luck. I was at the show I wanted to attend the most and I could see everything perfectly, even take photos! Though I was overwhelmed because I had made it, I relaxed completely when the show started. While shows are usually pure adrenaline – rush, heat, no space to breathe, music pumped up to the max – this one felt like total zen. Just calm sounds and beautiful garments. So Yohji.

I saw the collection as an exploration of the different meanings of red, most notably love and danger/aggression, the two polar opposites (though are they really?). In some looks, red felt warm, inviting, gentle and poetic; the peak of this was the soft, voluminous, almost-pink coat. In other looks, red was high voltage. This was not the only play of contrasts. It's signature for Yamamoto's garments not to reveal too much of the body, however skin was exposed here and not where you'd expect it (some people deemed this "Yamamoto's sexy collection"). There was a long white turtleneck sweater rendering the body silhouette invisible, but this sweater had an open back. The electric blue and red streaks in models' hair looked like an extension of the garment from afar, especially when the garment was in the same color, a brilliant visual effect.

It was indescribable to see how these complexly structured garments moved as the models walked, as well as how the outfits looked from the back and from the side. Photos where you can only see the front of the look don't do Yamamoto's collection any justice. I strongly believe that seeing clothes in motion is the only way to comprehend the beauty and technical perfection of their construction.

Though I said that shows are never larger than life, I was a little perplexed that the world didn't stop after this one, that people stood up from their seats just like that and left, rushing wherever they were supposed to show up next while I temporarily got stuck in a Yamamoto time capsule. So many times at fashion weeks, the only thing I can do after attending a show or presentation that really spoke to me is wander aimlessly around the city in attempt to process it before I can go back to my hotel and translate what I experienced into words.

Though I returned from Paris to my quotidian worries in Ljubljana in the meantime, this inexplicable and romantic post-show dizziness is lasting longer than usual. I don't mind it. It's like being in love. To think that a single show has the power to send me to such beautiful and mysterious places ... Who said fashion was frivolous again?

Zara top, circa 2005

I like it when clothes from H&M, Asos or Zara look like Dior. It pokes fun at high fashion's exorbitant cost* and proves that the impression given by clothes (expensive/cheap, put-together/random) depends entirely on the wearer. So actually, I like it when people wear clothes from cheaper brands like they're Dior (I'm using Dior as example because recently someone said my old Zara top reminded him of this brand, an outstanding compliment both to me and the top). It denotes a true understanding of fashion spiced with self-confidence and desire to make the clothes your own. To let yourself be the princess or prince at all times.

I'm sure most of us know instances when, say, this girl at school wore a scarf around her neck and pulled it off so well she made it a trend. In just a couple of days other girls started wearing a similar or even the same scarf. Of course, the scarf never looked so great on other girls. The secret was not in the scarf but in the girl and the way she wore it. Other girls couldn't achieve the same magic with the scarf because it's not what you wear, it's how you wear it.

On the other hand, even an exquisite Dior gown can look very much unlike Dior if you're not in the right mental place to wear it. Remember those thousands-of-dollars red carpet outfits that didn't work despite the best celebrity stylist, the most precious Harry Winston jewelry, the beautiful Louboutin pumps? You'd think it's impossible to go wrong with such sought-after pieces at your disposal. Wrong. Fashion can help immensely, but it cannot guarantee you that you will look amazing.

Since I know that how I look depends more on myself than my clothes, I don't believe in stratification of fashion. Zara tops and Yohji Yamamoto blouses are equally important in my closet. What I seek in clothes is not an expression of love for a certain brand or style, but a refined, dignified manner and character, the same qualities I wish to exude when I am wearing them.

* not to say the prices are always too high, though the crazy hole-ridden Balmain top will always remain questionable

Yohji Yamamoto straw hat with clear plastic overlay | Photo by Irving Penn, 2004

The season of spending my time between Ljubljana and seaside has opened. It is so soothing to get away from Ljubljana sometimes, the Ljubljana of too strong perfumes, unsanitary obsession with money, connections and brands, faux intellectuals and uncultured parvenus from towns and villages so small you won't find them on the map*; they waste their lives trying to impress other similarly depthless individuals with money, connections and brands, though they don't even like those people. Mix a little fever with my post-teenage angst and you'll find me confiding in my moleskine how, once you get back to Ljubljana, all your problems you didn't think about while you were away crush upon you in an instant again.

Heat is the only thing Ljubljana and seaside have in common in summer, and in heat what a girl needs is a good dress and a good hat. I have a glamorous black hat reminiscent of Sofia Loren and Brigitte Bardot on the French riviera in the 1960s, which means it's a sacred object and stays in the closet all the time, unworn and almost untouched. When I bought it, I promised myself I'd wear it to the French riviera one day, but before that? It would have to be a truly special occasion. My dresses? Too precious to be exposed to direct sunlight (not to mention sweat marks, the least desirable accessory), except when I'm feeling extravagant and I just go out dressed all in black at noon. This is not rare, so unlike the hat, my dresses do get some summer lovin'. Otherwise I'm promenading around in Zara shorts (one button missing) and tank tops. I am the very definition of fashion.

The one hat I would absolutely wear right now (despite its preciousness "must-not-touch!"** factor) is the Yohji Yamamoto straw hat with plastic overlay, pictured above. I love how it protects not only your head (so your thoughts don't boil), but also your shoulders, the greatest indicator of whether you've been prim and proper and stayed indoors from 11 to 5 every sunny day. For the first time in years I am going to cheat on my aristocratic pallor by sunbathing just a little to cover swimsuit-induced tan lines. Fate has brought me a new floral dress with completely open back; at 21, you don't let such an opportunity go, you own it.

* In fear of being taken wrong on my own fashion blog, I must immediately note that being cultured has nothing to do with where you come from; I just find it fascinating how the aforementioned uncultured, once they've become Ljubljanites and therefore "en vogue", will never mention their origins again ...

** Why do I get so intimidated by inanimate objects is the real question here

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... but life has to go on. Everywhere I've been in the world I've seen things such as buildings, museums and parks that wouldn't exist without Japan's donations. It's our turn now. I've included links to sites where you can donate to Japan online below. It's also OK to wait to donate because at this moment the Japanese government isn't working with international charities yet. Just don't forget about Japan. It deserves all our support.

Donate to Japan via:

• Japanese Red Cross Society (via Google)
• Doctors Without Borders
• Save the Children (Europe excluded)
• American Red Cross
• Donate via iTunes
• Japan Earthquake Relief Fund
• ShelterBox

Projects to help Japan:

• Free ways to help Japan
• Handmade for Japan
• Japan Earthquake Relief Prints
• Japan Aid Projects
• Socks for Japan

Yohji Yamamoto Fall/Winter 1984/85, photo by Max Vadukul