Clare Waight Keller’s AW15 collection for Chloé was very pretty — if by which you mean the kind of flaxen-haired loveliness embodied by 1970s love-children, those haystack habitués and writers of dreamy romantic poetry who seem to exist only in dappled sunshine. Waight Keller had captured all the elements of the house’s eternally youthful muse and delivered them, like greatest hits, on to the catwalk.
Gauzy chiffon gowns were tiered, tasselled and worn under fitted waistcoats, à la Stevie Nicks, or sweeping opera coats with bold gold button details. There were négligée silks, trimmed with chantilly lace and worn with bare legs and bootees. She had revisited the classic covered-button shirt, which was worn undone with a silken scarf knotted at the neck as might befit Jane Birkin, and there were wide- legged trousers with slouchy pockets and sizeable turn-ups.
The models were all delectable: I detected an audible sigh of happiness in the house when model Caroline Trentini appeared in a long patchwork poncho — just as wholesome and delicious as an afternoon spent lolling under an apple tree. But, beyond the girls and the styling, I couldn’t quite see how these dreamy pieces would have much hanger appeal. They seemed so floppy and boringly samey. Then again, I’m not a Chloé girl: and sometimes looking pretty is enough.
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