This is one of the first campaigns I ever loved, and it's held it's own in my memory ever since - even after Alberta Ferretti's scenes of subway disarray, Louis Vuitton's bevy of voluminously clad beauties, and Gucci's coterie of leather-pantsed rockers. It's minimalism at its finest - all clean lines and geometric silhouettes, flawlessly set upon reflective glass. The glossy hair, long, golden limbs, and sleek platforms are sophisticatedly space-age without dipping into metallic D&G territory. And even four years later (which is a century in fashion), it still looks thoroughly modern.
Amongst all the sentiments designer wish to inspire, boredom (to the point of tears) is one they usually seek to avoid. Then why was Fendi so darn drab? Of course, it earned rave reviews from every prominent critic. And though it is sometimes possible to understand how others might see beauty where one remarks only the absence of it, Fendi's so-called charm was purely inexplicable. Of quality there was surely plenty, but of true aesthetic genius there was none. Take, for example, overdyed bootcut jeans that stumpified even the extremely svelte legs of a 5'10" model. A couple of boxy jackets seemed awkwardly stiff; the shoulders on a black-and-white dress made its wearer seem like it was caught in the midst of a permanent shrug. The color combos were anything but vivid: fleshy beige, dusty blue, and muddy claret. Despite the brand's reputation for modernity, their latest presentation looked decidedly dated - and not in a vintage-cool way. Alone, perhaps, the pieces might have done well, but together they were uninspiring. The only redeeming factors were the black bandage shoes and a couple of flattering dresses with plunging necklines and cascading pleats. But it wasn't enough to save the collection. Karl Lagerfeld has a tendency to either hit or miss, and this effort placed it firmly in the latter category. If you liked his latest showing, however, you'll find plenty of others in agreement.















