First, a disambiguation: In Britain they call what models walk down a catwalk. One reason for that is that the word runway is already taken in their British dialect: in Olde England, the R-word means exclusively what airplanes take off and land on. Thus to British ears the title Project Runway sounds like a reality show for romantically bereft aeronautical engineers. Catwalk originally meant the walkway on the exterior of a building, but was later incorporated into the lexicon of fashion through some no-doubt-sexist etymological act of appropriation. (Although catwalk does apply to menswear too).
In France they call what models walk down a podium, which is super-dull even with a French accent. So today Alexis Mabille took Britain's catwalk and ran with it. “Life is a catwalk!” he said (in his great, onion-soup accent) preshow: “I wanted to show a parallel between this life in catwalk, every season, and the girl’s life too—it’s a game around that sensuality.”
Purrrrr-haps this was stretching the feline theme—which featured a “cataflouge” silhouette print and a velvet cocktail dress with an arching cat head at each tulle-flanked breast, and a curling tail on each shoulder blade. But, then, why not: Mabille is a technically very accomplished designer who favors feminine clothing with a direct message—pretty, sexy, girly, buy-me.
He mixed his ingredients like a new NutriBullet owner, enthusiastically; red stitched chalk stripe on chambray, spotted tulle, lingerie-lace fringing, sportswear hemlines and sleeve inserts, smoking jackets in Paris pink, tablecloth florals, and transparent silicone outerwear were just a few of them. The results, however, were cohesive and convincing. Mabille and his family house are one of the few Paris independents out there, and they are making clothes their clients relish. It might not be especially now, but it was very miaow—and Mabille’s audience lapped it up.
