Growing up with enough punk in my blood to think ice camo is close enough to couture, I can’t help the anti-establishment rebellion against labels that inevitably remains. I harbor an ounce of hostility towards my favorite fashion designers for charging my future children’s college funds for one voile blouse or gold over-sized tote.
One designer lured me into their air-conditioned boutique on Park Avenue about five years ago as I took the scenic route as I trudged home from one of my many jobs I had to work in order to survive in the fashion-capital of the country. Hot and exhausted, as a starving artist living paycheck-to-paycheck having just graduated from college, it was the silhouettes and shapes of the Chloe` coutures standing in the window display that beckoned to me from across the iconic Avenue.
Girlish and feminine, each Chloe` looks effortless, free, yet perfectly constructed.
Never have I, or will I most likely ever, be able to afford a frock, a blouse, or god-help-me, even a freakin’ belt, from this amazingly visionary label, but I am in constant awe of the artistry and innovation that lives and breathes in each classic Chloe` piece.