I always love the sets at the Celine fashion shows. Often - thought not always - held at the Tennis Club, they tend to run along that fine line of graphic minimalism, with organic materials, modernistic seating and something dynamic to hold it all together. The ceiling display this year is what really caught my eye. The opaque lightboxes were beautifully rendered, and those long, slightly haphazard stretches of blush and white paint. The white - splodgy and impatiently daubed on with the air of something done not for posterity but for convenience - reminds me of the stores, with their exposed wiring and waxed floors, so low-fi that when I first went into the Celine store on Madison Ave in New York I thought it hadn't been finished yet (faux pas). But it's the blush that is best. That beautiful, rosy-cheeked pink hue, that reminds me of all those lovely Benah bags from a couple of seasons ago, that reminds of me of Talisa and her paintings last year, that reminds me of being young and sweet, so unlike Celine, which makes it very like Celine indeed. That pink - with its white blemishes throughout - is the perfect reflection.
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