versace x h&m

Versace tops as one of my favorite design houses of all time, for many reasons. It’s no wonder, then, that I was floored when news of a Versace x H&M collection was to hit select stores in November 2011.

Perhaps floored isn’t the right word – yes, I was excited at the prospects of the democratization of fashion. Versace was catering towards a more mainstream demographic (for plebs like myself), crossing lines in the process. And while collaborations between large, consumer corporations and luxury designers aren’t unusual – I do believe Target popularized the concept – this was different. There’s a distinct socioeconomic hierarchy in the so-called “fashion world,” and mobility isn’t exactly easy. Take a look at the layout of your local mall – note how the Charlotte Russe’s and Sear’s are grouped within the same wing, and how Nordstrom and Sephora are closer in vicinity. Then compare malls in different districts; Nordstrom is high-end in one city, whereas in another Bergdorf’s and Neiman’s are considered true luxury.

But I digress – my point is this: H&M may be an affordable, mainstream retailer, but unlike Target, it’s a fashion retailer. A respected one – unlike the more notorious Forever 21 – at that. Credibility is instilled. Marketing efforts are geared towards a niche crowd and therefore more effective. Which, inevitably, means that campouts and infinite lines were to be expected at its release.

I didn’t think my local H&M would carry the collection, but lo’ and behold, they did. Pricy, yes, but brilliant in quality – far better than I had expected. And one month later, there were actually items left. It was all very true to the luxury design house’s aesthetics. Unapologetic, sexy, a throwback to their eighties’ vision. (I loathe all things eighties, but I make an exception for Versace.) While they weren’t necessarily the ones I secretly had my heart set upon (namely a studded leather trench and coral gown Jessica Rabbit would wear if dressed by Donnatella!), but a round of dress-up in the fitting room never hurt the soul.

And by round, I mean just one, solitary piece. The only left in my size was a bustier – fate, I tell you.

I’d show you pictures, but I’d rather not have such scandalous pictures of myself up and about the Internet; I think my mother (and any potential bosses) might have a heart attack. I’d rather not be held liable for any impending deaths, thankyouverymuch. But let’s be frank: black heels (of any variety) + black skinnies + corset top = a simple and beautiful equation for evenings out.

I’ll show you pictures where appropriate one day. When you’re older.

.   .   .

x

P.S.: I didn’t actually buy it. It was well over $$$, not in my budget. But the few minutes I spent twirling around in my 4 x 5 fitting room were well worth it.