The Stuff of Dreams

I've come down with a nasty virus of some sort, which leaves me ample time to loll on the couch and look at runway pictures from the most recent shows. Unfortunately, my pounding head has failed to allow me to take much pleasure in this. Flipping through gorgeous collection after gorgeous collection, my usual "wow!"s have been replaced with the uninspiring hack of my cough.

This morning, about to give up on fashion week until a healthier date, I clicked on Style.com's coverage of Rodarte.

And paused.

And dropped jaw.

Wow.

Ethereal gauze, artfully mangled yarn, and tattered fishnets abounded. Jewel-encrusted eyes glared from pale fingers; spike-laden shoes threatened to impale anyone who dared cross their path. Although the colors ranged from blood reds and blacks to soft beiges and ice blues, the mood on the runway was as dark as the models' lipstick.

Rodarte's Fall 2008 collection is alluringly otherworldly. These outfits would not look out of place in a mermaid's grotto, enchanted forest, or sorceror's tower. In fact, I'd like to point out to Stephie that the first gown pictured here would probably be worn by a vampire bride.

But enough with the supernatural wearers. I would wear these too, were they not so damn expensive.

I love you, sisters Rodarte. I'll take the entire collection, please,
And wear it when the moon is a ghostly gallion, tossed upon cloudy seas.

Yes, that was a Rodarte couplet with a bit of verse stolen from Alfred Noyes' The Highwayman. I felt the occasion deserved it.