If there was a method in Veronica Etro's madness, it wasn't immediately apparent in the pell-mell tone of a presentation that breezed from barbarism to futurism in the blink of an eye. If ever there was a show with a split personality, this was it. But sometimes that means double the fun, and that was the case here, if you were inclined to put a charitable spin on the chaos. The first outfit was an appropriate appetizer: A tartan-bodied coat sported metallic leather sleeves, a heavily embroidered placket, and a curly lambswool collar. Minutes later, a classically draped, one-shouldered gown in a mosaic pattern was followed by a substantial forties-style overcoat, then a psychedelic-ized paisley blouson and matching skirt. A key fabric of the collection was something called nylon Lurex, which flowed like liquid around the body. It made an intense golden evening dress look like a hostess gown from ancient Abyssinia, especially with the substantial earrings sported by Abbey Lee Kershaw. This was, by the way, a good thing.
The collection was random enough to turn anyone into a fashion editor. Take this, leave that. So baggy tartan pants looked fine with a lacquered leather biker, but the pairing of the same pants in tweed with an ethnic gold-coin-covered coat was too jarring to work. Still, could randomness even be invoked as a criticism when Etro's combinations were so deliberately wayward? They took on their own feverish life, so much so that the hectic patterning began to look like Rorschach blots. Then along came a gorgeous ivory coat-dress, shading from black and white paisley to rich color. Or a simple black gown, artfully, classically wrapped. File this one in the too-much-is-never-enough folder.
