Yohji Yamamoto

PARIS, March 5, 2010
By Nicole Phelps
It wasn't easy drawing people's attention away from their freezing extremities—fleece blankets didn't quite make up for the lack of heat at his venue—but Yohji Yamamoto put on a mostly satisfying show in shades of navy, black, and ivory. Many of the looks were conceptual, to be sure, but wearability wasn't sacrificed on the altar of deconstruction. You didn't have to be a longtime acolyte to be seduced by the strapless dresses that looked like double-breasted coats with everything above the bust sliced off. Coats with asymmetrical pleated hems that sagged in places, as if the seamstress had dropped a few inches of stitches, likewise had a sweet, unintellectualized charm.

Bold volumes dominated. A man's shirt was elongated into a dress; the aforementioned pleats were blown up and turned into strapless, floor-scraping numbers; and one ribbed-knit union suit was seriously oversize. The only things that fell flat were the coats with faces stitched in profile. Yamamoto may have been forced to close stores, New York's included, after being rescued from bankruptcy late last year, but it looks like his sense of humor remains intact. His show-closing bride wore black.

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