At Rodarte the girls were a dreamy gathering of ethereal beauties in tiered buttercup laces, widow’s weeds and rodeo leathers. They brought to mind the otherworldly characters of Emma Cline’s recent novel The Girls, a fictionalised account of a drifter collective surrounding a charismatic leader which was inspired by the Charles Manson cult of the late sixties.
These girls were way better dressed, extravagantly so, and not remotely dangerous, but such is the remote sensibility of the Mulleavy sisters, Kate and Laura, that their muse always looks a little removed from us mere mortals. Different. Untouchable.
And yet these pretty, pretty dresses were incredibly tactile, with their shimmering crystal embellishments, amber beading and puffy shearling throws. The Rodarte aesthetic is a fragile thing, and these dresses were a collage of delicate fabrics and textiles, even the studded leathers held together with seams of safety pins, and facial jewellery looked quite gentle.
Though the vast majority of the looks were black or white, there were moments of colour: a hand beaded dress in fuchsia chiffon and red sequin skirt provided some punch. And the accessories were customarily complicated and highly desirable.