Sohomouse

The show offered ethereal layering and a more romantic take on deconstruction, with sheer organza draped over shorts and skirts, playing subtly with translucency. But there was something deeply otherworldly about it — like a fallen angel touching down after being kicked out of heaven. It probably helped that a sheer trench coat with literal angel wings underneath floated down the runway. The yellow-brown organza veiled the stark white feathers, giving them a sense of antiquity and age, as though they were a well-loved old film photo kept in someone’s wallet for years. Or as if the angel landed in a cloud of dirt after unceremoniously plummeting to earth.

But we’re just getting started — that’s only the warm-up. Maria Grazia Chiuri, take note: angel-wing trenches aren’t even the climax. As the lights dimmed and guests began to think the show was over, down the runway came three models in dresses that seemed to glow from within. These clear dresses contained, in fact, terrariums, lit from inside and shrouded with layers of that same silk organza to create a soft radiance. They were filled with flowers — roses, in particular — and housed live butterflies, flitting and dancing about. It was like something out of a dream, possible only in a world of pure imagination, and yet here it was in my reality. Well, on my screen. What I wouldn’t give to have been front row at that show. Or any row, really — beggars can’t be choosers.

I was floored. Jaw on the floor. I had no words, which is saying something because I always have words — my degree is in yapping, not medicine. And don’t worry about the ethics; the butterflies were released after the show.

A misguided ghost, travelling endlessly in a terrarium dress? Honestly, I’m exactly where I want to be.