Dearly Departed

Look...

Lovely, aren't they? These are just a few of the wonderful designs that Olivier Theyskens, one of my favorite working designers, did for Rochas over the last five years. I was completely in love with Theysken's work for this house, which originally opened in 1925. There was a quiet elegance and a very grown-up femininity to the clothes. He wasn't as interested in making women "hot" or "sexy" as he was in making them just plain beautiful. Sometimes the clothes bordered on the severe -- there were not a lot of frills and flourishes or sequins and flashy bits to draw the eye. Silhouette and movement were what Theyskens concentrated on, and the results were some of the clothes that I most wanted to wear.

Because while, goodness knows I am certainly not above a little flash and we're all well-aware of how much the Style Spy likes a well-placed sequin, Theyskens' designs for Rochas were who I want to be in my heart of hearts -- sophisticated, sleek, rare, unmistakably high-quality.

So perfect. And also -- really, really expensive, because of the amazing fabrics and workmanship. Which is why Procter & Gamble, the company that owned the house of Rochas, decided in their infinite wisdom to shutter it. (Sadly, my computer does not have a "dripping with sarcasm" font or I would have used it there.) The clothing, they said, was not making enough money to justify the continued existence of the house. They kept the much-loved line of fragrances (Femmme, Absolue) going, but no more of Olivier's dreamily beautiful clothes.

At first I considered boycotting Procter & Gamble. Then I took a good look around my bathroom and realized that if I did that I'd be unacceptably sticky and stinky in a large variety of ways in pretty short order. (Seriously, these people make everything!!!)

Instead I just mourned. And kept my eye peeled for whatever remnants might make their way into outlets and online sites.


And I was rewarded with this:

It was an electrifying moment when I found this -- marked down to an affordable price, on YOOX.COM. They had it in two sizes. I ordered the larger one and then sat back to chew my fingernails and wait for FedEx to make my dreams come true. Once it finally arrived, I took it out of the box with much delightful trepidation, and my anticipation was not undeserved. It is a beautiful thing -- this photo doesn't nearly do justice to the amazing quality of the fabric and the details of the manufacture. The seams are all finished and taped. The lining fabric has the word "Rochas" woven into it. The zipper is practically invisible. But the thing that I noticed before anything else?

It was big.

And once I put it on it was clear that it wasn't just a little big -- it was a good two or three sizes too big. I scurried back to Yoox and checked, but the smaller size had disappeared already. So. The decision I had to make was: A) do I risk taking the skirt in for alterations that may be impossible or -- heaven forfend -- ruinous? Or B) do I send back what is potentially the last piece of clothing from this beloved label that I will ever have the opportunity to get my sticky little fashionista paws on without bankrupting myself? Not to mention that this is an extremely functional garment -- I'll be able to safely and stylishly wear this skirt for many years to come. It's not some crazy, trendy little number that doesn't have a shelf life past its season of origin. (But then, none of Theyskens' clothes for Rochas are anything but classic.)

Well, of course I went with A. There are two seams that run down the back of the skirt between the center back seam and the side seams, and when I pinned those up the skirt fit me like a dream. I'm a reasonably experienced stitcher and often I'll do my own alterations, but this needed to be handled by professionals. Last week I dropped it off at Ace Tailors here in Austin. The first person who looked at the skirt was a young woman who hemmed and hawed and made I-don't-know-if-we-can-do-this noises, which caused an extremely unpleasant tightness in my chest. But I held out for the wise, warm, and wonderful Josie, who looked it over quickly, nodded with a confident sure-no-problem expression on her face, and briskly pinned me into it without batting an eye.

I'll go back and pick up the skirt Tuesday or Wednesday, and I am all a-quiver. I was considering sacrificing a small animal to the tailoring gods for insurance. Instead I'll just rely on my benevolent readers to send perfect-skirt vibes. The love and goodwill of Fashionistas is a powerful thing.

There is still a tiny bit of Rochas left out there, and if you can find it and afford it, you should grab it.

Like this perfect little black skirt...

Or this effortlessly beautiful dress...

After this, there's no more. NO MORE!!!!

These are pieces of fashion history, and if you care about such things that's important. I do care about them. Rightly or wrongly, I care very much -- I must admit to occasionally having fantasies of having accumulated, by the end of my life, the sort of wardrobe that is archived and presented in a gallery setting, á la Nan Kempner. (But much, much smaller, of course.)

I'll let you know how my skirt turns out later this week.


Photos: Style.com