“The next logical step would be to have some sort of walking presentation, something to finally establish that Petar Petrov is an actual person rather than a made-up brand name.” So wrote Sarah Mower almost exactly a year ago at the first Vogue Runway–reviewed Petrov collection, and that point still stands. Since then, Petrov has continued to limit himself and his collection to showroom appointments.
These are functional encounters. They transport the reality of the garments, yet little of their potential to delight. At this one, we dutifully ranged through the rail, again, as Petrov discussed creating a more fluid silhouette in his sophisticated tailoring. That fluidity was displayed in a photo on the lookbook sheet on the table in front of us, in which the back of a bronze-buttoned, perkily shouldered, putty-colored jacket flew back at the vent. On the rail, though, gravity pulled them down to flat stillness. Another picture featured this season’s model Sara Blomqvist in a repeated dress shape that, in a patched hammered-silk devoré, seemed to glint like a Klimt in print, but from which context sucked all impact when we tracked it down on a busy showroom model giving some buyers an up-and-down.
Looking at a pair of rich tea leather pants, each leg falling slouchily from the hanger like some unctuous caramel stalactite, you could, with a bit of mental squinting, project a vision of a Petrov woman who would take the biscuit wearing them. Yet why the need to squint? Petrov’s reputation and sales have surely grown even more in the last year, so it would be great to see him take that next logical step and have a show, or a presentation, or a something in which models rather than hangers wear the clothes in an environment (6, Rue Fabert looks good) that matches the sophistication of the garments he is producing.
