Victor Weinsanto served up a generous helping of camp theater alongside his spring collection, staged at the Georges restaurant on the top of the Centre Pompidou, after the lunch crowd had finally cleared out.
The show started with the kind of altercation you might see in an early John Waters movie: One of the models planted in the front row was accosted by a coat-check attendant for wearing the same corset-laced minidress, and the staffer settled the score with a slo-mo slap to the diner’s face with a Weinsanto handbag.
The up-for-it crowd — wearing out-of-the box McQueen horse-hoof boots and taking selfies of their sparkly makeup — lapped it up like the soupe du jour.
It turns out this show reheated a lot of the French designer’s familiar silhouettes — skimpy and cabaret-inspired — and prints, especially a busy, multicolored pattern with psychedelic overtones.
Mixed in was some fine tailoring: pin-striped pantsuits embellished with Art Nouveau motifs like the ones on Paris subway entrances; handsome evening coats with wavy back vents, and a cropped jacket in a luscious, golden fabric that wouldn’t look out of place on Giorgio Armani’s runway.
But the designer’s heart seems to be vested in demonstrative clothes for party people: miniskirts the size of a napkin folded in half, and barely there tops and tunics.
“‘Emily in Paris’ on LSD,” he said with a yelp of laughter before the show.
To be sure, Weinsanto has an impressive knack for storytelling and gobsmacking accessories: His Eiffel Tower serving trays and a hat the size of a beach parasol got everyone filming, but you barely noticed the outfits.
