Betsey Johnson
NEW YORK, February 13, 2001
By
With an old key that dangled from a strand of pink ribbon, Betsey Johnson opened wide the doors to her closet for all the world to see. Out from Pandora's box sprang an array of mini-Betseys: All Johnson's models wore assorted hair extensions, a lightning-bolt tattoo on their chests, and plenty of lace teddies, net tutus in neon colors, striped Clamdiggers, Lurex-knit mini-tops and an abundance of corsets.In Johnson's universe, a party dress is printed with pterodactyls and sweeping birds; sweaters have different-colored sleeves, and velveteen coats are thrown over camouflage wool-knit dresses. Trousers for a pantsuit are cut low enough to allow a sliver of acid-green underwear to peek out, and jackets are snapped as close to the body as possible. Modern-day cancan girls cavort in emerald, sapphire and fuchsia brassiere tops, layered transparencies, and glittering heels that are part Wizard of Oz and part Times Square after dark.
"These are clothes that I love," said Johnson simply. "I wanted to create a whole new wardrobe for myself—and hopefully, for many others as well!"
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