YSL Sales YSL Sales

The potent twang of lyrical Spanish guitars signaled the mood of Oscar de la Renta’s exuberant collection. “A bit of Balenciaga!” he noted backstage, and his show evoked the sunny glamour of Madrid in the 1950s, where he landed as a dashing young art student and eventually found employment chez Cristobal Balenciaga, and a passion for the world of la moda.
Here were the voluptuous sheath YSL Sales and the frothing blouses and pencil skirts that Ava Gardner might have worn to a bullfight; the spiraling ruffles of a queen of flamenco in full dervish whirl; the magnificent ball gowns scattered with carnations thrown in homage at the feet of the victorious matador.
De la Renta’s easy command of luxurious couture effects produced just the sort of refinements that modern swans (front-row attendees Renee Rockefeller and Aerin Lauder, for instance) appreciate: a humble wrap coat in natural linen insouciantly scattered with three-dimensionally embroidered yellow chiffon blooms, perhaps; the cuff of a pepper-and-salt tweedy jacket inset with a band of finely pleated white organza; a pale leather skirt with laser cutouts, made to resemble Cordova leather; or the crochet weave of an easy cardigan suit threaded with eau de nil chiffon so that it suggests the chic Nantucket rag rugs so beloved of Bunny Mellon.
There was a touch of Balenciaga in a double-face ivory YSL Sales, but de la Renta brought it right into the present with a playful, hand-painted, overscale check effect. Melting tie-dye stripes were a further breezy modern embellishment.
“Only You” crooned the soundtrack as the parade of magnificent YSL Sales began. Dressed in any of these, the de la Renta heroine would slay all pretenders to the Belle of the Ball title. Gowns crafted from elaborate swathes of carnation pink, pistachio, or tango-orange faille, seamed like Charles James’ masterworks and flourished with bustles and bows, were interspersed with spangled dresses crafted for the femme most fatale.
Sarah Jessica Parker, whooping up an appreciative storm as Oscar took his discreet bow, was overcome at the embarras de choix. “My God, it was so beautiful,” she sighed. Which might she choose? “Wow! All of them--- YSL Sales!”

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