So I’m back in my Nicolas Ghesquière rabbit hole. Maybe it’s just the way Pierpaolo Piccioli’s Balenciaga is giving me no more hope, and as a coping mechanism I’m looking back at the brand’s age of greatness? Just like in the case of Ghesquière’s beautifully bizarre, acid-trippy autumn-winter 2007 collection I covered back in May (also, can someone explain to me how on earth it’s September?), three years earlier he did another masterpiece. READ MY FULL TEXT HERE.

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