Marcy Marc and the Funky Hunch

Porcelain

I always count on Marc to lift my spirits amidst the jumble, rumble and tumble of Fashion Week. How many harem pants, draped silhouettes and printed leggings can one look at before just not giving a Furstenberg?

Hey Everybody!

And then here comes Marc, looking 12 years old and gorgeous in his requisite kilt, giving us crazy curly-cue details, feudal Japan references and an instantly must-have fanny pack and I’m inspired again. His Spring 2010 is a grab bag of exquisitely-crafted pieces, some for the average joanne in need of a staple trench or jacket, and plenty for the gals at AnA who’ve never met a ruffle we didn’t like.

Marc wants us to have fun with our clothes, an idea with which I could not agree more. Why not wear GIANT pajama pants with an exposed garter and a bra as a top with a bold scarf wrapped about the neck? I’m going to Key Food and I need something comfortable. These touches of underwear as outerwear, though not new at all by this point, felt fresh with Marc at the helm.

I didn’t, however, die for everything: those sandals though adorable looked painful as a mother and some of the later Aztec (I’m guessing)-inspired dresses left me a little apathetic.

But the finale dress, which looked like the tears of a sea nymph woven together by the thread of Grace Jones enchanted pubes (delightful image, no?) brought the show to a thrilling close.

The genius that is Marc Jacobs remains untainted, and the hotness that is Marc Jacobs, like a fine wine, seems to only improve with age. Lucky is the chubby Brazilian ad exec who gets to pop that cork.