Have you ever wondered just how hard it is to get a ticket to a show like Rick Owens? Adrien Grenier was seated third row—and there were only three rows. So if I was squished into a doorway, peeking my way through someone's arm or above their shoulder, I'd still be more than thrilled. What I'm trying to say is, excuse my pictures, the place was packed. On top of all the seating drama, Owens' show ran a whopping 50 minutes late at which point a staffer loudly articulated everyone's thoughts, "If the show doesn't start in two seconds, people are going to start screaming out there!" And by the time the models were ready, the venue was packed - like going on a family road trip cross-country sort of packed - there wasn't a single spot to take a decent shot. Which means I was backstage with actual paparazzi pushing and shoving and elbowing me. Me! The little girl in silk Marc by Marc and ankle socks. Finally, I crouched down low enough to shoot through their legs. Anyway, back to the clothes.
As if you don't already know that it was amazing. His signature looks - sharp collars, tiers, folds, memorable jackets and major shoes turned into something of a modern day Barbarella. He did bodysuits with long panels of fabric descending from the crotch and dragging to the ground and others with giant mop-like pieces over the hips. At this point in the collection he was layering colors in a sort of geometric way, think black layered over beige layered over white over jackets over top over skirt. What stood out wasn't the design or look, really, but the Duchesse satin. I gasped when I ran my fingers across a particular silver jacket that was so pretty and so strucutred, and also not exactly the first thing that comes to mind with Rick Owens, but of course he worked it like magic. The question of the night turned out to be, "So who was better, Rick or Gareth?" But I'll leave it up to you to answer that one. —REBECCA SUHRAWARDI AUSTIN