There was something in Erdem Moralioglu's program notes about Dumas' La Dame aux Camélias meeting Derek Jarman's Jubilee. Ignore it. Erdem enthusiasts should instead rush straight to the end of his collection. There, they'll find the cream of what he does, and it is, indeed, creamy: pretty concoctions whipped up in French lace and flowy fan-pleated tiers that somehow manage not to come over as sickly sweet.
These, along with billowy-sleeved poet blouses and long drop-waisted dresses, have emerged over four seasons as Erdem's signatures—and the more richly he lays on the effects, the better they look. In a conscious bid to add variety (and some pieces whose price tags might not make buyers blanch), he's also working with Mackintosh, the original British rainwear manufacturer, to bring interesting cuts to raincoats. Where he goes wrong is when he skimps. His opening dresses in his signature insect prints were spoiled by being too short and too tight—or maybe that was the punk influence. Either way, they were a mistake, because the wispy Erdem couldn't muster a punk gesture if his life depended on it. He should stay with romance, and push it as far as he can.
