Rick Owens

PARIS, March 6, 2004
By Sarah Mower
It's becoming clear that Rick Owens will never deviate from his core look. That drapey, goth-gone-overground thing is just what he does, and no amount of outside pressure is ever going to make him add in, say, a fifties print frock or a pie-frill blouse for the sake of hitting a seasonal trend. Still, the progress of his familiar, heavy-sandaled horde is interesting to watch. The asymmetric, traily things they're wearing for fall—all dipped in a delicate palette of mushroom, mouse, palest lemon, and robin's-egg blue—are actually an undercover version of incredibly wearable luxe.

Granted, to appreciate this we must first avert our eyes from the saggy-crotched, ribbed men's-underwear leggings: a definite boo-boo from any angle. Instead, for an appreciation of Rick's relevance, refer instead to his jackets. His signature washed-leather and boiled-cashmere compilations have now grown their own version of a peplum, which puts them coolly in line with some other current collections. Others, in curly-haired shearling or fur, are cut with a long scarflike attachment that gets draped and wrapped across the body in a generous cowl. Under these, it's all about layers, as always. The designer's cardigans, some knitted as finely as baby shawls, are flyaway additions to his basic long, skinny T-shirts.

Owens' pieces are now collectibles that find their way into the wardrobes of many kinds of women the world over. In other words, he's running a real business here. All he needs to do now is cut the repetitions in his presentation, please.

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