Like Richie, Alessandra Rich has a surname that telegraphs endless decadence untempered by discretion. Unlike Richie, Alessandra boasts a wealth of tasteful discretion, while remaining true to her core USP of ravishing dresses garnished by flourish. Today, in a fine apartment on Avenue Victor-Hugo that showcased the absolutely elevated but undeniably realistic context Rich designs for, she generously treated this over-appointmented correspondent to a presentation with an audience of just two; the designer, the writer, and the hunched-over-her-phone silent party stuck to her charging point in the corner.
Printed ditzy or zebra velvet dresses, long and lean, came in either sheath shapes or split at the front variations with ruffle-defined contours at the front. There were several tiered tulle and lace pieces as marvelous to contemplate as the famous cast-iron tower just down the road. Short jackets hemmed with ruffles were layered against miniskirts. A black cady gown was spread with a frothing neckline of white tulle; a white silk gown featured a cursive flick of also-white tulle from hem to hip.
It’s been a while since I’d bumped into this designer—too rich for my blood, boom boom—and what has developed since her Hotel Crillon days three-ish years ago are the patterned velvets and the striking tailoring on double-revered satin-fronted checked jackets and topcoats. Rich has value as an assured designer of ultra-feminine, ultra-tasteful, yet ultra-sultry attire for women who understand their own currency yet refuse to be devalued. Worth investing in.
