Wink

NEW YORK, September 20, 2001
By Armand Limnander
Wynn Smith's Wink line has always evoked a very specific subsection of American youth—well-bred girls who, for one reason or another, have gone bad (or at least want to dress that way).

Next Spring, Smith's followers will stomp about in great-looking confetti-print crepe de chine dresses; instead of conventional suits, they will wear street-ready shrunken pinstripe blazers and long denim skirts with matching patchwork insets. Also likely to show up on hipper college campuses across the country are Smith's bias-tucked shirts, baggy linen jeans and khaki belted trenches. It's unlikely, on the other hand, that his shapeless, gauzy smocks or baggy bikini bottoms will find many takers.

Smith has consistently displayed an ability to push buttons with his confident aesthetic and irreverent sense of humor—an early collection played out as a homage to Patty Hearst, while another was titled "No Free Love Hippie Shit Here." Alas, this time around, the show's self-consciously grungy styling (sundress open to the navel, anyone?) and aggressive soundtrack proved more jarring than intriguing.

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