By  on November 11, 2013

The extreme heat harkened back to shows of yore—or would have, had audience members been forced to squirm in their own sweat for more than seven minutes. But on the stroke of eight (or was it a few seconds before?), Natalie Westling presented herself. She led Marc Jacobs’ rapid-fire procession of girls across a beach-in-shambles set, giant abandoned lifeguard chair, bus and food cart suggesting prior calamity. The early girls in the lineup wore their jams with antithetical sobriety, paired with frilled dark blouses and the occasional sweatshirt; on the later girls, the blouses became dresses beribboned, jeweled and embroidered lavishly, their embellishments only enhancing their exquisite Victorian moodiness. An intense passage of dark magic, and in aflash it was over.

This story first appeared in the November 11, 2013 issue of WWD. Subscribe Today.

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