Isn't it strange how differently you can see a collection after experiencing something completely independent of anything having to do with the collection itself? Rereading my review of Marc Jacobs Fall 2010 I wrote the night of the show, it's not that I necessarily disagree, but as I now try and preserve memories from the first 14 years of my life, saving anecdotes from old play dates and getting way too saddened at the sight of my elementary school before I begin 9th grade in the fall, the wool skirts and barely-there nightgowns are something different to me.
Now, I know these were not the intentions of Marc Jacobs, but I like finding a collection that I feel effectively translates a feeling of mine, whether the designer meant it or not. It wasn't supposed to be about adolescence and I don't think it was designed for adolescents to wear. Well, not exclusively. I think it truly caters to all ages. And that works with what it means to me, since nostalgia can't be something you feel only at the time where childhood is like, see ya, sucker! and then teenagerdom is like, MUAHAH, YOU'RE MINE, HERE, HAVE SOME PIMPLES.
Nostalgia creeps up on you and puts you in a haze, and this collection did the same thing. The overall simplicity brought everyone at the show that night into a childlike state where something as mild as a long woolen skirt was magical. (Well, everyone in my viewing range, at least. It's awesome to see people break their facade because a collection is just that good.) It redeemed the most inspiring part about childhood nostalgia, when everything was intriguing and new. Trying to keep in a constant state of excitement and wonder is difficult, but occasionally something like, say, this collection, comes along, and you just can't help but let your eyes widen.
*The piece of writing will not be published online since I'd like to keep some things offline and special and whatnot. But basically: childhood, grasping, whiny teenager, you get the gist. (I know I'm still a child, but not the way I was when I was, like, eight.)