Word: jacketing
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...theaters and on TV before Christmas. As a tribute to the Chanel-Hollywood hookup, the runway was covered in--big surprise--a red carpet. At either end, banks of paparazzi strained to snap a precious photo of the star, seated in the front row in a black couture jacket, a white satin scarf tied coyly around her neck...
...stake in his company to majority owner Prada, went commercial, with a collection of fresh cotton suits and sexy draped and knotted jersey dresses inspired by Greek togas. Viktor & Rolf, the Dutch duo who launched their first perfume, Flowerbomb, with the cosmetics giant L'Oréal, gave the safari jacket and the tuxedo a feminine edge with ribbon trim...
...could match Chanel. In addition to hosting Mme. Kidman, Lagerfeld overloaded the runway with 99 models, including vintage strutters Naomi, Linda, Shalom and Amber. Each sported some rendition of the house's iconic tweed jacket, now cut in soft pastel colors, or a whiff of an evening dress in beaded chiffon. Nobody knows better than Lagerfeld that fashion is not about art but about selling clothes. Indeed, it may cost the house of Chanel millions of dollars to pull off the whole Kidman campaign. But why pinch pennies? At a trunk show at Bergdorf Goodman in New York City last...
Posing on the front cover of his first record in five years with a massive cross, a black leather jacket (complete with black undershirt) and meticulously uncombed platinum hair, Kenny Wayne Shepherd looks either like a white biker Prince or some musically degenerative ex-boy band star. The Place You’re In, Shepherd’s fourth record, emphasizes garbage rock that sounds more like a NASCAR soundtrack than the inventive blues that enthusiasts desire. The band occasionally sounds like Collective Soul having a bad day or a meek Boston, but mostly just like guys playing repetitive chord...
...time, despite the presence of several other riders in my car. A seasoned late-night passenger, I thought that perhaps I had mastered the technique of making myself appear more imposing than I really am by curling up into a fetal position and pulling the hood of my jacket over my head, thereby hiding my lanky frame and boyish face while I slept. Yet beneath the heavy green fabric of my Abercrombie sweatshirt, I must have exuded an aura of accessibility, for, despite my best efforts, I proved unable to shake my innocuous but unwanted interlocutors...