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Alexander Wang

NEW YORK, February 2, 2008
By Meenal Mistry
The after-party wouldn't start until five hours later, but Alexander Wang and his stylist/muse Erin Wasson looked more than ready to let loose. Maybe it was the booming music, or the crowd jam-packed into the cavernous Eyebeam Atelier in West Chelsea. Or maybe it was the clothes themselves. The industrial, late-night ambience fit hand in glove with Wang's sexy-tough girls in their ripped tights. Marching out onto the runway from the smoky, scaffolded darkness, they were primed to do battle with whatever got in their way.

Wang diligently worked his juxtaposition of borrowed-from-the-boys and slinky femininity, producing a slew of great pieces on both sides of the divide. He balanced the proportions of baggy trousers, oversize blazers, and terrific chubby-nubby knits with lean tanks and vests, super-skinny pants, or no pants at all. And he delved for the first time into eveningwear—though more successfully with a louche satin tuxedo and a bugle-beaded vest over black jeans than with pleated chiffon dresses that looked out of place in these grungy environs. His ten-piece collection of slouchy washed-leather bags was a welcome development, however, and one that Wang's army of enthusiasts is guaranteed to adore.

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