Since I got boxed out of Fashion Week yet again, I thought I would provide you with a decent roundup from Christina Binkley at The Wall Street Journal:
Style: Heard on the Runway / News From New York Fashion Week Spring 2010
By Christina Binkley
16 September 2009
The Wall Street Journal
Marc Jacobs Air-Kisses the '80s Goodbye
Usually, you show up at fashion shows fashionably late. For Marc Jacobs, you show up a half-hour early. Anna Wintour was already there for the 8 p.m. show when I arrived at 7:30. The only person who strolled in looking unworried at precisely 8 p.m. was Madonna, her hair blown dry and poofed like a blonde That Girl.
Spread the word: Marc Jacobs is as punctual as a German train these days.
Jacobs brought us the whole 1980s power-clothes thing last year. Now, just as the rest of the world is getting in sync with shiny leggings, big-shouldered jackets and blouses pleated at the neck, he's moved on. His show Monday night was juicy and surreal -- and incredibly, laughably feminine. It was a circus of ruffles and frills, tamed by some 1960-ish men's trench coats and a touch of S&M wear. It was the opposite of power dressing.
Supermodel Jessica Stam wore a kinky black plastic (or patent) suit with holes cut out and huge epaulette-type ruffles at the sleeves. There were gray "Mad Men" trenches belted over lacy dresses.
It's easy to feel overwhelmed by the crazy styling of Jacobs's shows. This season, the models' faces were powdered white, and their hair was drawn up tight. They looked like cabaret clowns.
But look closely: Those fabulous "Mad Men" trenches were nearly vintage. A series of softly pink and mossy silk blouses could be worn in any boardroom. There was a nearly collegiate sportswear feel to some knitwear. The bags were rich-looking and the shoes mostly flat sandals, but they looked hard to walk in because the heels were several inches in under the sole.
Vera Wang Gets Personal
Vera Wang's clothes don't change drastically from season to season. There's an intimate quality to her work, as well as her shows. If you're a fan, you're going to find a satisfying consistency in her collections, which aren't the bridal gowns she's most known for.
This is the clothing Wang wears herself -- her personal style: black and gray silk sheaths, jackets transparent and light as a feather, and sculptural creations using tiny strips of fabric sewn together for texture.
A highlight at her Tuesday show was a black faille jacket and ivory-washed tank worn over a flanged skirt cut on the bias. Another was a series of prints -- lavender-colored flowers on a black background -- on which Wang had tacked each flower by sewing over and over a small square. It gave texture and richness to the lovely print and will be a signature as loud as her name.
Rodarte's Tattoo Theatrics
From the theatrical smoke on the runways to the mud-painting tattoos drawn on the models' arms, and the ragged, gauzy, vegetable-toned cheesecloth that draped the models' bodies, Kate and Laura Mulleavy's world is tribal and apocalyptic. It's Mad Max emerging from a cave, but dressed with the extraordinary artistic skills of two of fashion's most daring designers.
Their label, Rodarte, is becoming known more for artistry than sales. True to form, there was little in the collection, shown Tuesday, that could be worn to most offices. These are clothes for artists, special events and collections. It's hard to imagine that they could even be dry-cleaned. Yet they get you thinking.
Dresses were made from cheesecloth, silk linen and ruched leather, some covered with cobwebs of wool, which also wrapped the models' hair. Hand-braided belts -- some of the more sellable items -- encircled waists. There were macrame dresses with yarn hanging in strands. And in them, elaborately, were lace, velvet and leather wound and draped and stitched to look haphazard.
The audience was crawling with celebrities. Sunny Elijah Wood chatted with teen blogger Tavi beforehand. Backstage, actor Jason Schwartzman talked to model Madisyn. A spectacularly heavily made-up Courtney Love chatted animatedly. Kirsten Dunst sat in the front row.
As for the influential styles that will come of this show, I'm looking forward to a whole new trend in arm tattoos.
Stuart Channels Cher
Women of various generations flocked to Jill Stuart's noon show at the New York Public Library Tuesday. Teen girls watched while cameras trailed Leigh Lezark, Kim Kardashian, Kelly Rowland and Peaches Geldof to their chairs. A bevy of Bravo's "Real Housewives" from the New York and New Jersey editions attended.
While last season's collection was softly feminine, with fluffy tulle skirts and puff sleeves, this season's collection was all aggressive sex appeal. Body-hugging dresses with revealing sheer panels and cut-outs suggested an '80s exhibitionist club girl. Most dresses were cut so ultra-short that models tugged at the hems, with a few inadvertent flashes as they took their runway walk.Stuart says this collection's "angel rocker girl" look was inspired by Cher. A silver mesh dress was cut so low in the front and back that it prompted the question about what underthings one would wear with it. "You can't," Stuart said with a laugh. "You have to be pretty risky to wear that."
-- Elva Ramirez
Showing posts with label Christina Binkley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christina Binkley. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
WSJ: On Style: Death to Discounts? The Designers Rebel
...an extremely interesting and important article!
On Style: Death to Discounts? The Designers Rebel
By Christina Binkley
16 April 2009
The Wall Street Journal
Eileen Fisher is a mild-mannered woman -- quick to apologize and even timid. But the famously silver-haired designer is pondering a radical shift in the way her clothes reach consumers.
In department stores these days, Eileen Fisher clothes "get marked down before they even have a chance to sell," she told me recently. Perhaps it no longer makes sense to give Saks, Bloomingdales and other department stores so much control over the brand, she posited. She has asked her staff to consider a new model: renting department-store space in order to control prices and inventory.
Ms. Fisher's comments illustrate the rift that has formed between department stores and many brands after decades of close cooperation. The rift means shoppers will see fewer of those deep, early luxury-brand discounts that they have enjoyed for the past year.
The relationship between the stores and the brands cracked last fall, when Saks Fifth Avenue and its rivals slashed prices around Thanksgiving. Consumers benefited immediately. I bought a $1,200 Piazza Sempione dress, still in season, for less than $300 at Saks in Los Angeles.
In a matter of weeks, high-end retail's carefully tended pricing structure began to collapse. Shoppers demanded discounts at brands' own stores. At elite brands like Loro Piana, a flea-market mentality took hold. In Europe, even French stores, which are bound by strict pricing laws, are holding "floating sales" that include deep discounts. In the U.S., spring sales are arriving early, rather than coming at the end of the season.
Bargain pricing, of course, appeals to many cash-strapped shoppers, who couldn't otherwise afford luxury goods. But the onslaught of sales actually dismays other customers -- particularly loyal luxury devotees, who feel duped for having paid full price. Shortly after Nancy Novogrod paid full price at a department store for a pair of spring Jil Sander slacks, the editor of Travel + Leisure Magazine got an email saying the store's spring sale was under way. "Spring sale?" Ms. Novogrod said when New Yorkers were still shivering in mid-March. "That's not buyer remorse. That's buyer rage."
The price swings confuse customers, leading them to question the real value of their purchases. Was my Piazza dress ever really worth $1,200?
"Even wealthy people don't want to be ripped off," Ms. Fisher told me this week. She concedes apologetically that her company's prices -- a jacket might cost $400 and pants $150 -- rose more than necessary during the economic boom. "We sort of let the prices go up because business was so good," she says.
Airlines and hotels faced similar price competition several years ago, when Web sites began buying bulk seats and rooms and sold them at discount. It was often more expensive to book a Marriott room on Marriott.com than on Hotels.com. Eventually, the companies made their own prices more competitive, even as they gave the new Web sites incentives to cooperate and punished the sites if they undercut prices by limiting access to inventory.
These days, many fashion brands are effecting their own pushback, demanding to be left out of department stores' sales. "All our brands are taking great care to ensure that what happened in November will not happen again," says Paola Milani, a spokeswoman for Gucci Group, which owns Bottega Veneta, Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci and other brands. "The idea is to maintain pricing coherence in the regions in which our products are sold regardless of channel of distribution."
It's not that the brands will totally eschew sales; Yves Saint Laurent yesterday emailed customers an offer good next week at its stores: 50% clothing, 30% off accessories. But the luxury brands want to control when they take discounts and on which products. And the deals will likely be less sweeping.
Saks, which was a leader in last fall's discounting, declined to comment. But this week, notices for Saks's 25% off "Friends and Family" sale exclude, in the teensy fine print, more than 40 top luxury brands, including Gucci, Cartier, Chanel, Loro Piana, Oscar de la Renta, Zegna and Christian Louboutin.
Ms. Fisher says she hadn't been aware of this week's sale and wishes her brand had also been excluded. Known for its ease of wear and timeless styles, the brand uses washable silks and wools that are intended to last for years. Her company depends on department stores for 70% of its revenue, which was $273 million in 2008. But she would like to whittle that share down to 50%.
To that end, Eileen Fisher will open six new stores of its own this year in the U.S. -- slightly accelerated from an average of five new stores per year -- and is launching a costly new technology platform for Internet sales that will offer greater flexibility, allowing online customers to pick up items in stores, for instance.
Ms. Fisher is also working to encourage department stores to use what she calls "scalpel markdowns" -- where items that sell poorly are marked down quickly, leaving strong sellers at full price even as new inventory arrives. "We're negotiating harder with all of them," she says of department stores.
Ms. Fisher's most extreme idea -- renting space in department stores -- won't happen anytime soon, but she and her staff plan to broach it with store accounts tentatively. The project would be complex -- equivalent to opening scores of boutiques across the country.
But the in-store boutiques have some precedents. LVMH's Louis Vuitton brand has been doing it for years. Every LV-logoed wallet and handbag at Saks or Neiman Marcus is sold by a salesperson who is employed by Vuitton, on space that is leased by the French luxury manufacturer.
LVMH's fashion and leather-goods revenues, dominated by Louis Vuitton, rose 10% in the fourth quarter. Little wonder: They didn't go on sale last fall.
---
Subscribers, please join my Journal Community, where you can share questions and ideas, at WSJ.com/Community. Twitterers can follow me at Twitter.com/BinkleyOnStyle.
On Style: Death to Discounts? The Designers Rebel
By Christina Binkley
16 April 2009
The Wall Street Journal
Eileen Fisher is a mild-mannered woman -- quick to apologize and even timid. But the famously silver-haired designer is pondering a radical shift in the way her clothes reach consumers.
In department stores these days, Eileen Fisher clothes "get marked down before they even have a chance to sell," she told me recently. Perhaps it no longer makes sense to give Saks, Bloomingdales and other department stores so much control over the brand, she posited. She has asked her staff to consider a new model: renting department-store space in order to control prices and inventory.
Ms. Fisher's comments illustrate the rift that has formed between department stores and many brands after decades of close cooperation. The rift means shoppers will see fewer of those deep, early luxury-brand discounts that they have enjoyed for the past year.
The relationship between the stores and the brands cracked last fall, when Saks Fifth Avenue and its rivals slashed prices around Thanksgiving. Consumers benefited immediately. I bought a $1,200 Piazza Sempione dress, still in season, for less than $300 at Saks in Los Angeles.
In a matter of weeks, high-end retail's carefully tended pricing structure began to collapse. Shoppers demanded discounts at brands' own stores. At elite brands like Loro Piana, a flea-market mentality took hold. In Europe, even French stores, which are bound by strict pricing laws, are holding "floating sales" that include deep discounts. In the U.S., spring sales are arriving early, rather than coming at the end of the season.
Bargain pricing, of course, appeals to many cash-strapped shoppers, who couldn't otherwise afford luxury goods. But the onslaught of sales actually dismays other customers -- particularly loyal luxury devotees, who feel duped for having paid full price. Shortly after Nancy Novogrod paid full price at a department store for a pair of spring Jil Sander slacks, the editor of Travel + Leisure Magazine got an email saying the store's spring sale was under way. "Spring sale?" Ms. Novogrod said when New Yorkers were still shivering in mid-March. "That's not buyer remorse. That's buyer rage."
The price swings confuse customers, leading them to question the real value of their purchases. Was my Piazza dress ever really worth $1,200?
"Even wealthy people don't want to be ripped off," Ms. Fisher told me this week. She concedes apologetically that her company's prices -- a jacket might cost $400 and pants $150 -- rose more than necessary during the economic boom. "We sort of let the prices go up because business was so good," she says.
Airlines and hotels faced similar price competition several years ago, when Web sites began buying bulk seats and rooms and sold them at discount. It was often more expensive to book a Marriott room on Marriott.com than on Hotels.com. Eventually, the companies made their own prices more competitive, even as they gave the new Web sites incentives to cooperate and punished the sites if they undercut prices by limiting access to inventory.
These days, many fashion brands are effecting their own pushback, demanding to be left out of department stores' sales. "All our brands are taking great care to ensure that what happened in November will not happen again," says Paola Milani, a spokeswoman for Gucci Group, which owns Bottega Veneta, Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci and other brands. "The idea is to maintain pricing coherence in the regions in which our products are sold regardless of channel of distribution."
It's not that the brands will totally eschew sales; Yves Saint Laurent yesterday emailed customers an offer good next week at its stores: 50% clothing, 30% off accessories. But the luxury brands want to control when they take discounts and on which products. And the deals will likely be less sweeping.
Saks, which was a leader in last fall's discounting, declined to comment. But this week, notices for Saks's 25% off "Friends and Family" sale exclude, in the teensy fine print, more than 40 top luxury brands, including Gucci, Cartier, Chanel, Loro Piana, Oscar de la Renta, Zegna and Christian Louboutin.
Ms. Fisher says she hadn't been aware of this week's sale and wishes her brand had also been excluded. Known for its ease of wear and timeless styles, the brand uses washable silks and wools that are intended to last for years. Her company depends on department stores for 70% of its revenue, which was $273 million in 2008. But she would like to whittle that share down to 50%.
To that end, Eileen Fisher will open six new stores of its own this year in the U.S. -- slightly accelerated from an average of five new stores per year -- and is launching a costly new technology platform for Internet sales that will offer greater flexibility, allowing online customers to pick up items in stores, for instance.
Ms. Fisher is also working to encourage department stores to use what she calls "scalpel markdowns" -- where items that sell poorly are marked down quickly, leaving strong sellers at full price even as new inventory arrives. "We're negotiating harder with all of them," she says of department stores.
Ms. Fisher's most extreme idea -- renting space in department stores -- won't happen anytime soon, but she and her staff plan to broach it with store accounts tentatively. The project would be complex -- equivalent to opening scores of boutiques across the country.
But the in-store boutiques have some precedents. LVMH's Louis Vuitton brand has been doing it for years. Every LV-logoed wallet and handbag at Saks or Neiman Marcus is sold by a salesperson who is employed by Vuitton, on space that is leased by the French luxury manufacturer.
LVMH's fashion and leather-goods revenues, dominated by Louis Vuitton, rose 10% in the fourth quarter. Little wonder: They didn't go on sale last fall.
---
Subscribers, please join my Journal Community, where you can share questions and ideas, at WSJ.com/Community. Twitterers can follow me at Twitter.com/BinkleyOnStyle.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
WSJ: A Splurge on St. John Shows What You Can Get for the Price of Luxury
I have always thought this of St. John and had recently decided that when my "ship comes in" I shall adorn myself in this brand. Their recent ad campaigns are looking younger and more relevant as well...
Style -- On Style: The Suit That Turns Me Into a VIP --- A Splurge on St. John Shows What You Can Get for the Price of Luxury; Best Table in the House
By Christina Binkley
30 October 2008
The Wall Street Journal
Maitre d's are expert decoders of social rank. When I dine with CEOs at Michael's in New York or Spago in L.A., we score the best tables. On my own, I wind up seated near the kitchen doors.
Unless I wear my St. John suit.
It is very understated, with no logo. The navy blue knit tank dress hits right at the knee. A zipper up the front of the jacket adds a modern edge, but the look is timeless. That is what St. John is famous for -- and it is why the brand is often disdained by the trend-conscious fashion cognoscenti.
Yet when I wear my suit, maitre d's snap to attention, sales clerks rush to assist me and people I barely know offer me favors.
What is it about the cut of certain clothes that signals "VIP"? Men's Brioni suits and Charvet shirts are famous for it. Bottega Veneta and Akris have it. Their head designers can tell you the fabric cost the moon and the tailor apprenticed for three years, but it's more difficult to define what conveys the effect of Somebody. As with pornography, you know it when you see it. Delivering that cachet -- that power -- is the promise of the luxury business.
It was curiosity about these questions that led me into the boutiques on Fifth Avenue in the summer of 2007, shortly after I began writing this column. Comfortably middle-class, I had shopped for years at the likes of Saks outlet Off Fifth, Banana Republic and Zara. My mom raised me to believe clothes should be comfortable and practical, not frivolous.
At Versace, I tried on a $1,100 white cotton blouse with ruffles down the front. I exited Versace as I had entered -- empty-handed and skeptical.
Just up the avenue at the St. John boutique, a salesman helped me select a half-dozen jackets and dresses. The ensembles cost a couple thousand dollars apiece -- a steep price, but only a third the cost of similar outfits at high-fashion brands like Chanel and Akris. My salesman arranged it all in a vast dressing room and hovered outside the door. An hour later, I emerged from the store with the most expensive items of clothing I have ever purchased. I felt shock, shame, pleasure: The suit hadn't even been on sale.
The cost of luxury can seem outlandish -- particularly now, in an uncertain global economy. Clothes are particularly hard to value. While cars and high-tech gadgets -- Maseratis, Audemars Piguet watches and first-generation iPhones -- offer not only performance but the cachet of a visibly rich item, clothing does less to convey what you spent on it. Clothes get stained and snagged, and they go out of style quickly.
But clothes also have the power to transform you. Clothes "can be used to beguile, seduce, mock, lie and deceive," semiotics professor Marcel Danesi says in his book, "Of Cigarettes, High Heels, and Other Interesting Things." He adds, "Criminals can dress in three-piece suits to look trustworthy." Designer Marc Jacobs this year was asked to leave a Chelsea art gallery when an employee mistook him for a homeless man. The iconic designer's clothes apparently signaled "soup kitchen."
Most important, clothes can speak the secret language of status. In one of my early forays in my St. John suit, I dropped my kids at school on my way to work. A mom I've known for two years stopped me outside the building and exclaimed, "Wow. What do you do for a living again?" At the office, a colleague complimented my suit and asked, "Did it cost $1,000?" (I dissembled. If only.)
My suit and I got on a plane and drew the attention of a passenger in an ostrich-skin baseball cap and matching boots. It was Pete Rose. The baseball legend wound up telling me where I could get boots just like his -- flipping open his cellphone to display the number for Friedman's Shoes in Atlanta. "All the athletes shop there because he has big sizes," Mr. Rose confided.
As a woman at midlife, I find that if I want notice, I must command it. Waiters can be slow to respond to my black Banana Republic pantsuits. But they "ma'am" my St. John. Store clerks glide over to offer coffee while I browse. Maitre d's offer hangers for my jacket. A gentleman insisted on carrying my luggage onto a plane at JFK airport -- a chivalry he surely wouldn't have offered to my Lucky brand jeans. Is it my imagination, or do New York cab drivers pick me and my St. John over other hailers during rush hour?
At New York's fashion week last February, I sat outside the Bryant Park tents in my St. John, talking on my cellphone. A photographer began shooting pictures of me.
I don't think people recognize the label. My suit doesn't have the boxy shape, tweedy fabric and decorative touches of the traditional St. John's suit.
But the suit does have a good fit, strong workmanship and non-trendy style. Glenn McMahon, chief executive of St. John Knits Inc., says my jacket is known as the "Angelina" after former St. John model Angelina Jolie. Spun, dyed and knit in Irvine, Calif., St. John's signature wool-blend yarn has a patented twist that gives the garment memory so it doesn't wrinkle in suitcases or get baggy when worn. It can be "blocked" into a new size or shape, if mine should change. As a result, my suit rarely needs dry-cleaning, and looks as good at the end of the day as it did at sunrise.
These days, getting value for money is more important than ever. But spending money on hot designers doesn't guarantee you'll impress others. My green-gray Marni suit, which cost about $675 at the brand's Milan outlet, garners compliments but no restaurant-table upgrades. My cropped Stella McCartney jacket, $304 on sale at Barneys, has led to no adventures.
But recently, a friend gave me several hand-me-down Chanel jackets and they, like my St. John, stop sales clerks in their tracks.
---
Email Christina.Binkley@wsj.com
Style -- On Style: The Suit That Turns Me Into a VIP --- A Splurge on St. John Shows What You Can Get for the Price of Luxury; Best Table in the House
By Christina Binkley
30 October 2008
The Wall Street Journal
Maitre d's are expert decoders of social rank. When I dine with CEOs at Michael's in New York or Spago in L.A., we score the best tables. On my own, I wind up seated near the kitchen doors.
Unless I wear my St. John suit.
It is very understated, with no logo. The navy blue knit tank dress hits right at the knee. A zipper up the front of the jacket adds a modern edge, but the look is timeless. That is what St. John is famous for -- and it is why the brand is often disdained by the trend-conscious fashion cognoscenti.
Yet when I wear my suit, maitre d's snap to attention, sales clerks rush to assist me and people I barely know offer me favors.
What is it about the cut of certain clothes that signals "VIP"? Men's Brioni suits and Charvet shirts are famous for it. Bottega Veneta and Akris have it. Their head designers can tell you the fabric cost the moon and the tailor apprenticed for three years, but it's more difficult to define what conveys the effect of Somebody. As with pornography, you know it when you see it. Delivering that cachet -- that power -- is the promise of the luxury business.
It was curiosity about these questions that led me into the boutiques on Fifth Avenue in the summer of 2007, shortly after I began writing this column. Comfortably middle-class, I had shopped for years at the likes of Saks outlet Off Fifth, Banana Republic and Zara. My mom raised me to believe clothes should be comfortable and practical, not frivolous.
At Versace, I tried on a $1,100 white cotton blouse with ruffles down the front. I exited Versace as I had entered -- empty-handed and skeptical.
Just up the avenue at the St. John boutique, a salesman helped me select a half-dozen jackets and dresses. The ensembles cost a couple thousand dollars apiece -- a steep price, but only a third the cost of similar outfits at high-fashion brands like Chanel and Akris. My salesman arranged it all in a vast dressing room and hovered outside the door. An hour later, I emerged from the store with the most expensive items of clothing I have ever purchased. I felt shock, shame, pleasure: The suit hadn't even been on sale.
The cost of luxury can seem outlandish -- particularly now, in an uncertain global economy. Clothes are particularly hard to value. While cars and high-tech gadgets -- Maseratis, Audemars Piguet watches and first-generation iPhones -- offer not only performance but the cachet of a visibly rich item, clothing does less to convey what you spent on it. Clothes get stained and snagged, and they go out of style quickly.
But clothes also have the power to transform you. Clothes "can be used to beguile, seduce, mock, lie and deceive," semiotics professor Marcel Danesi says in his book, "Of Cigarettes, High Heels, and Other Interesting Things." He adds, "Criminals can dress in three-piece suits to look trustworthy." Designer Marc Jacobs this year was asked to leave a Chelsea art gallery when an employee mistook him for a homeless man. The iconic designer's clothes apparently signaled "soup kitchen."
Most important, clothes can speak the secret language of status. In one of my early forays in my St. John suit, I dropped my kids at school on my way to work. A mom I've known for two years stopped me outside the building and exclaimed, "Wow. What do you do for a living again?" At the office, a colleague complimented my suit and asked, "Did it cost $1,000?" (I dissembled. If only.)
My suit and I got on a plane and drew the attention of a passenger in an ostrich-skin baseball cap and matching boots. It was Pete Rose. The baseball legend wound up telling me where I could get boots just like his -- flipping open his cellphone to display the number for Friedman's Shoes in Atlanta. "All the athletes shop there because he has big sizes," Mr. Rose confided.
As a woman at midlife, I find that if I want notice, I must command it. Waiters can be slow to respond to my black Banana Republic pantsuits. But they "ma'am" my St. John. Store clerks glide over to offer coffee while I browse. Maitre d's offer hangers for my jacket. A gentleman insisted on carrying my luggage onto a plane at JFK airport -- a chivalry he surely wouldn't have offered to my Lucky brand jeans. Is it my imagination, or do New York cab drivers pick me and my St. John over other hailers during rush hour?
At New York's fashion week last February, I sat outside the Bryant Park tents in my St. John, talking on my cellphone. A photographer began shooting pictures of me.
I don't think people recognize the label. My suit doesn't have the boxy shape, tweedy fabric and decorative touches of the traditional St. John's suit.
But the suit does have a good fit, strong workmanship and non-trendy style. Glenn McMahon, chief executive of St. John Knits Inc., says my jacket is known as the "Angelina" after former St. John model Angelina Jolie. Spun, dyed and knit in Irvine, Calif., St. John's signature wool-blend yarn has a patented twist that gives the garment memory so it doesn't wrinkle in suitcases or get baggy when worn. It can be "blocked" into a new size or shape, if mine should change. As a result, my suit rarely needs dry-cleaning, and looks as good at the end of the day as it did at sunrise.
These days, getting value for money is more important than ever. But spending money on hot designers doesn't guarantee you'll impress others. My green-gray Marni suit, which cost about $675 at the brand's Milan outlet, garners compliments but no restaurant-table upgrades. My cropped Stella McCartney jacket, $304 on sale at Barneys, has led to no adventures.
But recently, a friend gave me several hand-me-down Chanel jackets and they, like my St. John, stop sales clerks in their tracks.
---
Email Christina.Binkley@wsj.com
Thursday, May 15, 2008
WSJ: On Style: Early Markdowns Mean Springtime for Shoppers
See I said it was so, and now so has Ms. Binkley. So it's the truth. Go get 'em tigers!
...........
On Style: Early Markdowns Mean Springtime for Shoppers
By Christina Binkley
15 May 2008
The Wall Street Journal
As fashion retailers vie for scarce business this spring, one clear winner is emerging: you, the consumer.
Markdowns of spring and summer clothes that would normally begin in June started in March this year -- an early thawing of prices brought on as luxury department stores tried to warm up the chilly response to fashion this season. High-end boutiques have felt compelled to follow suit, and discounters have been able to nab luxury goods months earlier than usual.
In many places, spring styles have been marked down before it's even warm enough to wear them. Finally, fashion's seasons -- which always feel somewhat premature -- have gotten so out of whack that they actually work in shoppers' favor!
The wave of discounting could ripple through seasons to come. Stores are likely to cut back on the trend-setting looks shown on runways in Milan, Paris and New York and instead focus on tamer clothes that are easier to sell. Indeed, Kelly Golden, co-owner of Neapolitan, a high-end boutique in Winnetka, Ill., near Chicago, says she plans to cut her purchases of runway looks to as little as 10% of her inventory, from around 20%, when she places orders this fall.
Right now, bargains abound on runway styles. If you had your eye on Prada's iconic wave-striped handbags as their wearers minced down Milan's runways last October, you can now pick one up for 20% off at Bluefly.com. Or how about one of those Cynthia Steffe georgette tunics from the designer's spring runways -- at 40% off?
Barneys New York notified customers of a one-week sale of up to 40% off starting May 20. Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue and Bloomingdale's have had their own sales of warm-weather styles.
The early markdowns are largely a result of flagging consumer confidence. With home foreclosures, sky-high gas prices and financial-industry layoffs making headlines, many middle-class consumers sharply cut back their spending, particularly avoiding splurges on high-priced shoes, handbags and designer fashions. Stores, though, made their purchases of spring goods early last fall, when the luxury industry was still enjoying double-digit sales amid an orgy of interest in such frivolities as ostrich handbags and Louboutin platform sandals.
When racks of $750 sandals are marked down to $400 this fast, even the keenest shoppers learn patience. Consumers "are not going to want to pay full price for anything," predicts Ms. Golden of Neapolitan. Though she didn't have a spring sale last year until mid-June, she launched a 40%-off sale this week. Many of the clothes, from Tory Burch, Michael Kors and other designers, arrived in her store less than two weeks ago. Ms. Golden says her revenues are actually up 20% from a year ago. But when major department stores are discounting, she says, she has to match them or risk selling at even deeper markdowns in June.
If stores like hers cut back on the most dramatic fashions, as seems likely, it will further enlarge the disconnect between the runway looks the public sees -- styles that set the tone in fashion magazines -- and the plainer (but often excellent) "pre-collection" designs that consumers see more frequently in stores. Less dramatic pieces are less risky, and in a slow season, their very lack of distinctiveness means they can hang around longer on store racks without looking stale. The runways' relevance has been falling for years. Now, "resort," "pre-spring" and "pre-fall" collections account for 70% to 80% of the clothes and accessories in stores.
Weirdly -- considering that we haven't yet celebrated Memorial Day and schools won't let out for a good month -- new fall designs are hurrying spring and summer styles out the door. As designers race to be first into stores for the next season, tweed and dark wool looks from the likes of Carolina Herrera, Tuleh, Zac Posen, Pucci and Michael Kors are already on store floors -- suggesting that nothing about the timing of fashion is likely to get saner soon.
Some specialty manufacturers and retailers that stayed focused on the truly wealthy say they haven't felt the same bite as the mass purveyors. Pier Guerci, president and chief executive of Loro Piana U.S.A., says his cashmere company's sales so far this year are up by double-digit percentages over last year. He has been struggling, to little avail, to keep his company's cashmere and other luxury lifestyle wear from being swept up into department stores' sales. "We try to talk them into the fact that our customers are more than willing to pay full price," he says.
All the off-kilter fashion timing plays into the hands of Internet discount sites, which are already busy selling designers' current spring and summer collections. Melissa Payner, chief executive of Bluefly.com, says this spring's retail slump has enabled Bluefly to sell current-season designer fashions at 40% or more off. Ms. Payner notes that Bluefly is seeing more inventory than usual this season.
While department stores launched spring and summer collections in January, Bluefly waited until March to buy and took the luxury of reading trends when they were already happening. That enabled the site, among other things, to order more blue than yellow after early predictions that yellow would be big failed to come true. And thank goodness, because yellow is a hard color to wear, no matter what the price.
---
Email Christina.Binkley@wsj.com
...........
On Style: Early Markdowns Mean Springtime for Shoppers
By Christina Binkley
15 May 2008
The Wall Street Journal
As fashion retailers vie for scarce business this spring, one clear winner is emerging: you, the consumer.
Markdowns of spring and summer clothes that would normally begin in June started in March this year -- an early thawing of prices brought on as luxury department stores tried to warm up the chilly response to fashion this season. High-end boutiques have felt compelled to follow suit, and discounters have been able to nab luxury goods months earlier than usual.
In many places, spring styles have been marked down before it's even warm enough to wear them. Finally, fashion's seasons -- which always feel somewhat premature -- have gotten so out of whack that they actually work in shoppers' favor!
The wave of discounting could ripple through seasons to come. Stores are likely to cut back on the trend-setting looks shown on runways in Milan, Paris and New York and instead focus on tamer clothes that are easier to sell. Indeed, Kelly Golden, co-owner of Neapolitan, a high-end boutique in Winnetka, Ill., near Chicago, says she plans to cut her purchases of runway looks to as little as 10% of her inventory, from around 20%, when she places orders this fall.
Right now, bargains abound on runway styles. If you had your eye on Prada's iconic wave-striped handbags as their wearers minced down Milan's runways last October, you can now pick one up for 20% off at Bluefly.com. Or how about one of those Cynthia Steffe georgette tunics from the designer's spring runways -- at 40% off?
Barneys New York notified customers of a one-week sale of up to 40% off starting May 20. Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue and Bloomingdale's have had their own sales of warm-weather styles.
The early markdowns are largely a result of flagging consumer confidence. With home foreclosures, sky-high gas prices and financial-industry layoffs making headlines, many middle-class consumers sharply cut back their spending, particularly avoiding splurges on high-priced shoes, handbags and designer fashions. Stores, though, made their purchases of spring goods early last fall, when the luxury industry was still enjoying double-digit sales amid an orgy of interest in such frivolities as ostrich handbags and Louboutin platform sandals.
When racks of $750 sandals are marked down to $400 this fast, even the keenest shoppers learn patience. Consumers "are not going to want to pay full price for anything," predicts Ms. Golden of Neapolitan. Though she didn't have a spring sale last year until mid-June, she launched a 40%-off sale this week. Many of the clothes, from Tory Burch, Michael Kors and other designers, arrived in her store less than two weeks ago. Ms. Golden says her revenues are actually up 20% from a year ago. But when major department stores are discounting, she says, she has to match them or risk selling at even deeper markdowns in June.
If stores like hers cut back on the most dramatic fashions, as seems likely, it will further enlarge the disconnect between the runway looks the public sees -- styles that set the tone in fashion magazines -- and the plainer (but often excellent) "pre-collection" designs that consumers see more frequently in stores. Less dramatic pieces are less risky, and in a slow season, their very lack of distinctiveness means they can hang around longer on store racks without looking stale. The runways' relevance has been falling for years. Now, "resort," "pre-spring" and "pre-fall" collections account for 70% to 80% of the clothes and accessories in stores.
Weirdly -- considering that we haven't yet celebrated Memorial Day and schools won't let out for a good month -- new fall designs are hurrying spring and summer styles out the door. As designers race to be first into stores for the next season, tweed and dark wool looks from the likes of Carolina Herrera, Tuleh, Zac Posen, Pucci and Michael Kors are already on store floors -- suggesting that nothing about the timing of fashion is likely to get saner soon.
Some specialty manufacturers and retailers that stayed focused on the truly wealthy say they haven't felt the same bite as the mass purveyors. Pier Guerci, president and chief executive of Loro Piana U.S.A., says his cashmere company's sales so far this year are up by double-digit percentages over last year. He has been struggling, to little avail, to keep his company's cashmere and other luxury lifestyle wear from being swept up into department stores' sales. "We try to talk them into the fact that our customers are more than willing to pay full price," he says.
All the off-kilter fashion timing plays into the hands of Internet discount sites, which are already busy selling designers' current spring and summer collections. Melissa Payner, chief executive of Bluefly.com, says this spring's retail slump has enabled Bluefly to sell current-season designer fashions at 40% or more off. Ms. Payner notes that Bluefly is seeing more inventory than usual this season.
While department stores launched spring and summer collections in January, Bluefly waited until March to buy and took the luxury of reading trends when they were already happening. That enabled the site, among other things, to order more blue than yellow after early predictions that yellow would be big failed to come true. And thank goodness, because yellow is a hard color to wear, no matter what the price.
---
Email Christina.Binkley@wsj.com
Thursday, April 10, 2008
WSJ: Seeking Comfort in the Power Heel
I think I'm more inclined to go the Cole Haan route - but read the article if you are in need of comfortable, appropriate work shoes that can go all day long...[Taryn Rose "Dree" sandals pictured, $465 (!)]On Style: High and Mighty: Seeking Comfort in the Power Heel
By Christina Binkley
10 April 2008
The Wall Street Journal
Feet hurt?
These days, stylish shoes come in two heights: flat and towering. Fashion magazines and stores are showcasing more flashy three- and four-inch heels than ever -- and sometimes adding on platforms that we once thought only Elton John would wear.
The pinch of high heels isn't an issue just for fashionistas. At the office, high-heeled pumps are the feminine equivalent of wingtips. A woman who wants a power shoe -- or added height -- will usually wear heels, even if they leave her wriggling her tingling toes in the privacy of the space underneath her desk.
But in recent years, a small but fast-growing group of shoemakers have tried to combine height and comfort, seeking solutions in orthopedic and athletic-shoe technology. I decided to try some of the latest heels that are marketed as comfortable and healthy, to see how they lived up to their billing. I also tried several shoe brands that have long been known for being more comfortable, if sometimes less fashionable.
All these technologies attempt to absorb and spread pressure, addressing the fact that tiny foot bones weren't designed to carry the weight that heels put on them. When you're wearing a three-inch heel, the pressure on the ball of the foot is akin to the pounding that part of the foot takes when you're running. And few people run for 10 straight hours -- the length of many workdays.
To see which were most comfortable for a full day of work, I bought six pairs of shoes ranging in price from $89 to $495, with heels from 2 1/2 to 3 inches high. I wore each one all day and even hiked through airports with two of the pairs. For comparison, I also tried inserting arch supports and toe pads into some of my own heels.
There was a clear winner for comfort married with style: Taryn Rose, the most expensive shoe in the group. With contrast piping, metallic leathers, slim wedges and peep toes, the shoe line looked highly stylish. The $495 price for the Daphne model I chose could make such shoes prohibitive for some pocketbooks, but special built-in supports made it a cradle compared with the others.
A $275 pair of Stuart Weitzman heels lacked thick padding, but this shoe's sturdy footbed and toe room made it one of my airport stompers. And the selection was the most glam of any brand, with a wide range of materials from patent leather to snakeskin. Cole Haan's $275 Nike Air pumps also deserve a special note for combining comfort and style; they come in a variety of sleek-looking styles, including razor-point toes, open toes, slingbacks, wedges and some with a small platform. Still, the pointy toe made my toes numb.
I also looked at Naturalizer, Aerosoles and Ecco -- brands that have focused on comfort for years. Of the three, the $84 Naturalizers blended comfort and style most effectively, and, given the price, they were the best deal of all six pairs. Aerosoles, $83, and Ecco, $144, had more-limited offerings for office looks, though they had wide selections in lower heels and walking shoes.
For inserts to my own not-comfortable heels, I tried Dr. Rosenberg's Instant Arches in a favorite pair of pumps, and I stuck Foot Petals cushion inserts in the toes. The result was an improvement, but the built-in supports of the other shoes felt better overall. I would recommend inserts only for people who want to improve a favorite pair of shoes.
There's a reason that Taryn Rose shoes performed well -- the company was founded by an orthopedic surgeon named, naturally, Taryn Rose. She recently resigned from the privately held company, but continues to hold a minority stake, people there said. The director of design, Roberta Covari, described to me a construction process that starts with a wide, ergonomic "shoe last" -- a form around which a shoe is made -- to allow the foot to "lean properly." There are soft sheep-leather linings, a layer of a shock-absorbing material called "Poron," a sole made of a light material called "Wearlight," and a bottom that is part leather and part rubber for flexibility where the foot bends. Despite all this, Chief Executive Andrew Forbes said, "We don't like to think about them as orthopedic shoes."
It's a good bet that we're going to see more of this sort of thing. Taryn Rose's revenue doubled in the past two years to reach $40 million in 2007, says Mr. Forbes. And Cole Haan, owned by Nike Inc., has seen fast growth since it began inserting Nike's tiny airbags in some women's dress shoes several years ago. Cole Haan Air helped sales of Cole Haan dress shoes more than double over the past year, says Chief Executive James Seuss. The dressy Air shoes now represent approximately 30% of the company's assortment of women's shoes -- triple the amount of fall 2006. In fact, it's been so successful that Cole Haan plans to add the Nike Air bags to "all possible" men's and women's shoes in the spring 2009 line, Mr. Seuss says.
But don't expect super-high heels to go away anytime soon. Stuart Weitzman says he offers a range of mid-height heels each season, but when fashion editors arrive at his showrooms, they ignore shoes that aren't either flat or radically high. He argues that the pressure to get photographs in magazines forces less-established designers to create eye-catching high heels in order to get attention. The effect, he says: "They are almost forced into designing shoes that are uncomfortable."
Thursday, January 31, 2008
WSJ: On Style: Law Without Suits: New Hires Flout Tradition
Basically, get with the program youngsters. You aren't as inexpendable as you think. And if you don't believe me, just wait for the economy to continue crashing...
Style -- On Style: Law Without Suits: New Hires Flout Tradition --- Young Attorneys' Casual Attire Draws Criticism at Big Firms; A Crackdown on Ugg Boots
By Christina Binkley
31 January 2008
The Wall Street Journal
One of the lifestyle perks law firms increasingly offer young lawyers is the chance to dress comfortably at the office. With "business casual" as the new dress code of record, ties hang in closets and jackets await their day in court at home.
There's just one problem: It can be difficult to get young associates to shift gears and don traditional dress when the need arises. A decade after the dot-com boom made casual Friday a weeklong event, many people under 30 have never witnessed a suits-only office.
Older people have long complained about the sartorial sloppiness of the younger generation. But the divide is stark in the legal profession.
"I share the lament and disgust about the general level of associates' attire," says Tom Mills, the 60-year-old managing partner of the Washington office of Winston & Strawn LLP. "I think it's abysmal."
For young men and women, a business suit is an uncomfortable yoke to be dusted off for special occasions. "Getting up in the morning and putting on a suit is hard," says Sara Shikhman, a 26-year-old legal associate at Cadwalader, Wickersham & Taft LLP in New York. She says she hasn't worn one in six months.
When associates show up at work in suits, their peers think they have a job interview, Ms. Shikhman says. "Guys don't really polish their shoes," she adds. They go for cool, rather than traditional. "They wear shoes like you might see Johnny Depp wearing to the Oscars." She recognizes that her firm's partners "definitely look more put together than associates, but they also get more sleep than the associates."
Yet in lawyering, half the battle is the posturing. Many experienced lawyers see their wardrobe as a tool to win the trust of clients, juries and judges. Legal associates who aren't sartorially prepared may not be invited along to a new-client pitch or to take a leading role in court, regardless of the office's stated "business casual" dress code.
Mr. Mills says he is partial to well-fitted Brioni suits for himself. He notes that the going rate for new associates in New York, Los Angeles and Washington is $160,000 a year -- enough to buy suits while paying down school loans. Yet all too often, associates show up at work in jeans -- attire that he doesn't condone "unless it's moving day."
When it came time to pick a point person for a plum assignment at Manatt, Phelps & Phillips recently, the New York law firm chose "a polished, professional-looking associate" over a "brilliant" and experienced associate who had been counseled, to no avail, to improve his grooming and attire, says Renee Brissette, a partner at the firm.
The firm opted for someone more presentable to the client, says Ms. Brissette. She notes that associates are often loath to believe their attire could affect assignments or promotions. "Young lawyers don't like to hear that it's anything but their intellect," says Ms. Brissette. She notes that for women, being professionally attired doesn't require a man-suited look: She has a wardrobe of Nanette Lepore suits that are unmistakably feminine without being inappropriately flirty.
Brad Tobin, 25, who is working at a midtown Manhattan law firm, says he is certain that clothes don't affect job assignments at his firm. "Not at all -- it's really based on work product," says Mr. Tobin, who is working part-time while he completes law school. He says he owns suits but doesn't bother to wear them at work.
Law firms are attempting to raise the bar. Some associates at Cadwalader Wickersham & Taft this winter received a note asking employees to change out of their snow boots after young associates began wearing their Ugg boots all day at work, says Ms. Shikhman. A Cadwalader spokeswoman says she wasn't aware that such a note had circulated.
Winston & Strawn brought in a personal shopper from a local department store last year to address associates on how to shop and dress for work. Mr. Mills says that when some associates do make an effort to dress up, they seem to base their look on Hollywood. "You get the TV-woman lawyer look with skirts 12 inches above the knee and very tight blouses," he says. "They have trouble sitting and getting into taxis."
The firm also hired etiquette consultant Gretchen Neels, a former executive recruiter, to give lectures on grooming, dress, and etiquette standards such as where to place one's napkin at dinner.
She says many members of the so-called millennial generation have never been schooled in the traditions that previous generations learned at their parents' knees. Yet these 20-somethings are still being evaluated by old-school bosses and clients. Many members of this generation not only "don't own a watch -- they've never owned a watch," says Ms. Neels. In many white-collar professions, an expensive watch signals success, while a cool cellphone or iPod, though it tells time, signals hipness.
Ms. Neels, founder of Neels & Co. in Boston, has been making the rounds at law firms, as well as law and business schools at Duke, Harvard and other universities. She hears all sorts of complaints from scandalized partners: One young attorney wears yoga pants to work. Another associate blasted out a firmwide email searching for a size-32 belt when an unanticipated court appearance required him to dress up midday.
Ms. Neels notes that business-school grads share law associates' casual sartorial attitude, and she tries to connect the dots between what they wear and how they come across. When she was coaching M.B.A. graduates at Harvard last weekend, she says only about half came in a suit. One young man showed up in cargo pants, and his cellphone rang during the interview.
"What I'm getting from you is that you're a jerk," Ms. Neels told the student as part of her feedback. "Can you see how I'd get that?"
"Yeah, I guess," he responded, she says.
Trial attorney Rosemarie Arnold says young lawyers need to learn that "courtroom drama is all about control." Ms. Arnold represented Joran van der Sloot, one of three men who were with student Natalee Holloway before she disappeared in Aruba. With courtroom appearances in mind, Ms. Arnold spends $150,000 a year on clothes, she estimates. She is partial to Gucci and Dolce & Gabbana in particular and black suits in general.
"Trying a case is like a movie," Ms. Arnold says. "Wardrobe is everything."
---
Email Christina.Binkley@wsj.com.
Style -- On Style: Law Without Suits: New Hires Flout Tradition --- Young Attorneys' Casual Attire Draws Criticism at Big Firms; A Crackdown on Ugg Boots
By Christina Binkley
31 January 2008
The Wall Street Journal
One of the lifestyle perks law firms increasingly offer young lawyers is the chance to dress comfortably at the office. With "business casual" as the new dress code of record, ties hang in closets and jackets await their day in court at home.
There's just one problem: It can be difficult to get young associates to shift gears and don traditional dress when the need arises. A decade after the dot-com boom made casual Friday a weeklong event, many people under 30 have never witnessed a suits-only office.
Older people have long complained about the sartorial sloppiness of the younger generation. But the divide is stark in the legal profession.
"I share the lament and disgust about the general level of associates' attire," says Tom Mills, the 60-year-old managing partner of the Washington office of Winston & Strawn LLP. "I think it's abysmal."
For young men and women, a business suit is an uncomfortable yoke to be dusted off for special occasions. "Getting up in the morning and putting on a suit is hard," says Sara Shikhman, a 26-year-old legal associate at Cadwalader, Wickersham & Taft LLP in New York. She says she hasn't worn one in six months.
When associates show up at work in suits, their peers think they have a job interview, Ms. Shikhman says. "Guys don't really polish their shoes," she adds. They go for cool, rather than traditional. "They wear shoes like you might see Johnny Depp wearing to the Oscars." She recognizes that her firm's partners "definitely look more put together than associates, but they also get more sleep than the associates."
Yet in lawyering, half the battle is the posturing. Many experienced lawyers see their wardrobe as a tool to win the trust of clients, juries and judges. Legal associates who aren't sartorially prepared may not be invited along to a new-client pitch or to take a leading role in court, regardless of the office's stated "business casual" dress code.
Mr. Mills says he is partial to well-fitted Brioni suits for himself. He notes that the going rate for new associates in New York, Los Angeles and Washington is $160,000 a year -- enough to buy suits while paying down school loans. Yet all too often, associates show up at work in jeans -- attire that he doesn't condone "unless it's moving day."
When it came time to pick a point person for a plum assignment at Manatt, Phelps & Phillips recently, the New York law firm chose "a polished, professional-looking associate" over a "brilliant" and experienced associate who had been counseled, to no avail, to improve his grooming and attire, says Renee Brissette, a partner at the firm.
The firm opted for someone more presentable to the client, says Ms. Brissette. She notes that associates are often loath to believe their attire could affect assignments or promotions. "Young lawyers don't like to hear that it's anything but their intellect," says Ms. Brissette. She notes that for women, being professionally attired doesn't require a man-suited look: She has a wardrobe of Nanette Lepore suits that are unmistakably feminine without being inappropriately flirty.
Brad Tobin, 25, who is working at a midtown Manhattan law firm, says he is certain that clothes don't affect job assignments at his firm. "Not at all -- it's really based on work product," says Mr. Tobin, who is working part-time while he completes law school. He says he owns suits but doesn't bother to wear them at work.
Law firms are attempting to raise the bar. Some associates at Cadwalader Wickersham & Taft this winter received a note asking employees to change out of their snow boots after young associates began wearing their Ugg boots all day at work, says Ms. Shikhman. A Cadwalader spokeswoman says she wasn't aware that such a note had circulated.
Winston & Strawn brought in a personal shopper from a local department store last year to address associates on how to shop and dress for work. Mr. Mills says that when some associates do make an effort to dress up, they seem to base their look on Hollywood. "You get the TV-woman lawyer look with skirts 12 inches above the knee and very tight blouses," he says. "They have trouble sitting and getting into taxis."
The firm also hired etiquette consultant Gretchen Neels, a former executive recruiter, to give lectures on grooming, dress, and etiquette standards such as where to place one's napkin at dinner.
She says many members of the so-called millennial generation have never been schooled in the traditions that previous generations learned at their parents' knees. Yet these 20-somethings are still being evaluated by old-school bosses and clients. Many members of this generation not only "don't own a watch -- they've never owned a watch," says Ms. Neels. In many white-collar professions, an expensive watch signals success, while a cool cellphone or iPod, though it tells time, signals hipness.
Ms. Neels, founder of Neels & Co. in Boston, has been making the rounds at law firms, as well as law and business schools at Duke, Harvard and other universities. She hears all sorts of complaints from scandalized partners: One young attorney wears yoga pants to work. Another associate blasted out a firmwide email searching for a size-32 belt when an unanticipated court appearance required him to dress up midday.
Ms. Neels notes that business-school grads share law associates' casual sartorial attitude, and she tries to connect the dots between what they wear and how they come across. When she was coaching M.B.A. graduates at Harvard last weekend, she says only about half came in a suit. One young man showed up in cargo pants, and his cellphone rang during the interview.
"What I'm getting from you is that you're a jerk," Ms. Neels told the student as part of her feedback. "Can you see how I'd get that?"
"Yeah, I guess," he responded, she says.
Trial attorney Rosemarie Arnold says young lawyers need to learn that "courtroom drama is all about control." Ms. Arnold represented Joran van der Sloot, one of three men who were with student Natalee Holloway before she disappeared in Aruba. With courtroom appearances in mind, Ms. Arnold spends $150,000 a year on clothes, she estimates. She is partial to Gucci and Dolce & Gabbana in particular and black suits in general.
"Trying a case is like a movie," Ms. Arnold says. "Wardrobe is everything."
---
Email Christina.Binkley@wsj.com.
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