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It has been noted by many, including The New Yorker, that this is one of the first exhibits devoted to a fashion icon instead of a designer, but it is now apparent that Guinness is the creator of a completely unique aesthetic. Her preference for “dandyism,” including closely fitted waistcoats and cummerbunds that displays her preference for structured androgyny, is especially evoked in her starched white shirts with stiff collars almost suffocatingly tall. True artists must suffer, or so the saying goes.
Partially styled by Guinness herself, the outfits are separated into sections of evening wear; some composed only of gowns, others skirt separates, cocktail dresses and finally her flamboyant suits. Each look is accessorized with metals of every kind and gems of every color. Brooches as bright as Gerbera daisies adorn the starched collars, and the millinery includes more McQueen-esque feathers and many birdcage black veils. Though the legacy of McQueen is at every turn with his feathered armor vests and even a few of his designs for the house of Givenchy, gowns by Alaia, Karl Lagerfeld, Valentino and Gareth Pugh abound. One piece by Pugh, a leather pantsuit covered in small nails is particularly surreal but most exemplifies her taste for fashion that emotes as clearly (and sometimes painfully) as a Rockwell painting.
The final look (when touring the exhibit from right to left) features a robin’s egg blue suit jacket, beautifully tailored and designed by Guinness herself. The simplicity in its muted brightness cleanses the onlooker’s palette after what seems like a steady wave of staggering and complicated darkness. Ultimately, the distance between these two aesthetic poles doesn’t undermine the beauty of the whole; the fascinating beauty that has made Daphne Guinness high fashion’s most prominent muse.