Jeremy Scott
PARIS, March 14, 2001
By
Forget about long, drawn-out conceptualism. In less than 10 minutes, Jeremy Scott managed to not only condense his entire aesthetic into one extravagant performance, but also to send an entire room of jaded editors into a collective roar of laughter.When the curtains of Paris' Cirque d'Hiver were drawn, they revealed a revolving floor of glamorous TV game-show winners, done up to the nines in billowing dollar-bill outfits, plush logo-embossed furs, fitted designer jeans, sequined jumpsuits and zip-up jogging ensembles. The rouge-laden, important-haired celebutantes proudly displayed their hard-earned treasures: a stationary bicycle, a comfy reclining chair, a fabulous piano and, in the case of a less fortunate darling, a humble blender.
When the show ended, a second set of curtains opened and Scott, perched upon a fluffy cloud that would've made Jeff Koons proud, shared his wealth of mock $10,000 bills and chocolate gold coins with the audience—just like any bleach-blond, mullet-coiffed, modern-day Bob Barker would.
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