"A giant curtain wall of gold lamé opened to reveal Marc Jacobs's collection in its entirety: 46 girls frozen in Bob Fosse attitudes on an arc of bentwood chairs—like the bar hawks in the Big Spender scene in Sweet Charity, or the flappers proffering an invitation to the Cabaret.
A fading antebellum dance hall in the Deep South was evoked by the wooden runway with the posts and beams of its central structure garlanded with yellow light bulbs (and in the many scaled gingham prints and the Amy Winehouse-ian do-rags), but although that Cabaret-era dressing informed the general silhouette of the show—the drop-waist chemise dress of indefinite shape—this was not another playful twist on period dressing (the Jerry Hall seventies or the comic-strip fifties of recent seasons for instance).
Instead, it provided a master class in classic Jacobs tailoring and enchanting dressmaking, ignited by some futuristic adventures in fabrication along the way.
The gleam of that curtain was echoed in the shimmering effect of sequins and tinsel and reflective fabrics galore—from thick, shining taffetas to something that looked like the colored translucent plastic in which florists wrap their blooms. Tiers of cellophane organza were shredded like raffia for the shimmy flounces of skirts (a device echoed in the trim of paper-thin leather coats and cardigan jackets with a Coco Chanel flavor) and leafy sequins were embroidered so thickly they resembled windswept fur. Even the shoes (in textile mixes that often included clear plastic)—pumps with a classically elegant heel, and no-nonsense two-tone loafers—and the boxy bags (in mid-century diner colors—like ice blue, maroon, lemon, and Nile green) were pragmatic in their streamlined utility.
After the Betty Page heroines who trotted the Jacobs runway last season with their hourglass jackets and hobbling pencil skirts, this collection represented a return to Jacobs’s softer side—a thrilling way to end the New York Fashion Week."  Hamish Bowles


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