My collection of print skirts — not much of one, so I use the word "collection" loosely — reveals my (almost) unequivocal love for Dries Van Noten (and Marni) prints. The shimmering silks and brilliant palettes exude a refined air of self-assuredness; paired with monotone tops, the effect is a lesson in elegant sublimity. I wish they'd paid me for my plugs on twitter during the early summer months. I also use the term 'summer' very loosely.
Some sorting out... Haven't I declared this string of letters that spells "tribal" non existent. Except in the real sense of the word — ummm, the world is made of tribes of people. Say what you will — what exactly does "tribal" mean? A simpleton's catchall term reserved for describing ideas, artifacts etc from the African, South American and Asian (sometimes excluding Russia, China and Japan) continents. In its most often misused and misconstrued sense, the word is undoubtedly a lazy — and derogatory — appellation, propagated in western societies' dialogues; and because it connotes everything, it means nothing. Gimme a break, will ya?! Same thing with frigging "ethnic". Where's the Oxford dictionary committee when one needs help?!! Or to whom should I be making a complaint?!
So yes, Dries Van Noten's spring 2010 collection, a revival, if you will, of the fashion house's distinctive éclat was — and is — continually described as tribal, ethnic... [Hilary Alexander (still love her!) of the Telegraph, ventured... unusual. Oh dear...]
But if anything, my love for Van Noten continues to thrive because this darling man is finally revealing that he loves lots of chocolate in his milk. Oooh la la! I mean where else did he dream up some of the inspiration for his spring collection? Sending his models in a mix of delicious prints: an Uzbekistan cum Indian Ikat print here and there, and more auspiciously, prints that I like to think have their origin in West Africa. Prints, popularly called ankara, that women in my village/ummm... the entire of Nigeria!! have been sporting from time immemorial. And when donned like skirts, they looked suspiciously like tied wrappers. (Ask me later what that means, if you don't know. And just look at the pictures!) I mean seriously!! Love to death!! I'm not going to go off on the same tangent — as no doubt — some people will, and as happens quite frequently with Mr Van Noten and Matthew Williamson (whose ornate prints and embellishments are to die for as well). I whole-heartedly revel in the joy of wrapper-skirts from Nigeria on the runways of Paris, love. But I will say that I absolutely adore and continue look forward to celebrating fabrics from indigenous designers.