The Return of Margiela

As with most things lately I first fell in love with the Maison Margiela body through tumblr. I saw Liu Wen and Olivia Lopez sporting it through the lens and I simply thought "I have to have it". Never have I ever seen a top more fitting to me than that; since it was both minimal and offensive simultaneously. In high school I was known for two things. 1. Whatever I wore it was short. This meant short skirts, short shirts, short dresses and short shorts. They weren't necessarily unforgivingly short but the length, or more so the lack of length was emphasized by the conservative surroundings I endured my high school years in. I was once even asked wether I purchased all of my items from the children's sections in clothing stores. (This however was before the general public could appreciate the aesthetics of the crop top and the answer was no) And 2. No matter what the weather was the length of my clothes stayed the same. Just because it was snowing didn't mean I had to switch in my mini's for jeans and long johns, as was the case with girls who preferrer flaunting their chest (sleeves got longer, material got thicker, but the V necks still got lower #superclassy) The only thing the weather changed was wether or not I had tights on (give or take a few pairs) These two reasons in short made me that girl who was always "Half naked". But as with the glass metaphor I preferred to see myself as the girl Half dressed. To my luck a few weeks post the original spotting on tumblr H&M did a Maison Margiela collab/revival. Bringing back a small collection of the most memorable items ever made by the fashion house. Therefor when I set my eyes on the nude colored body with an embroidered bra print I couldn't see how I couldn't own it. Even my mom pointed the body out to me declaring it the only item I would be if I were to ever be reincarnated into a piece of clothing (which at this point I most likely will). So I bought it. Simple as.
The first time I wore my new faux birthday suit was to a formal family dinner. The chilly november night opened up a perfect window to wear the long sleeved top. Trying to remain calmly edgy I paired it up with my boyfriend jeans and covered it with a sweater. The last layer wasn't necessarily due to the cold but more or less because I knew if my dad saw the body before we headed out of the house he would order me to go and change. The sweater was in a way my attempt at attire espionage. By the time we had finished the first round of drinks at home celebrating whatever the formal occasion was and began to head out to the restaurant I got cold feet. I began to regret how sneaky I had been about my clothes, and how my dad would disapprove of my very fashionable yet un-lady-like attire. By the time we reached the restaurant my espionage has guilted me into remaining in the sweater. Unfortunately the french restaurant was a cozy corner bistro packed with heaters to keep the customers safe from the winter snow. About half an hour in (and the first course not even served) the heat began to get to me. I could feel my curls slipping out of form, and my need to remove my sweater increasing. By the third course I gave in. (Mind you there was another good four courses following) I coyly removed the sweater hoping the candle light would be dim enough and my dad, not a man too keen on fashion and on a few glasses of wine, wouldn't even realize I had removed my sweater. (After all both my oversized knit and MM body were sort of the same shade of beige) But the minute he looked at me, his pupils widened, face in shock... I wasn't sure what to expect. Finally the eyes of disapproval emerged and I knew I should have kept my sweater on. As comfortable as I was wearing the offensive body in a french bistro my dad felt displeased over my choice of "family friendly" attire. Trying to explain to a business man that my top was basically french royalty and this Munich based french restaurant should rejoice that they're even allowed to bask in it's glory was a weak attempt to justify my "rebel" actions. Thankfully the waiter swooped in before I was guilted back into the prison of sweat (a.k.a my oversized knit) offering the table a bottle of Rosé on the house,(and a Lady know's never to say no to Rosé) courtesy of the bartender enjoying the aesthetics of my top. The next four courses and for a while after all the food had been eaten the Rosé kept on flowing free of charge. Who knew that Maison Margiela pays his own night out. The wine was the perfect distraction to the offensive attire I had chosen to wear and by the fifth course my dad had forgotten about the whole situation. I was off the hook and enjoying my rebel attire. Plus a lot of free wine. I don't remember what the celebratory occasion was or why I was drawn to Margiela that night, but the expression on my fathers face when he was introduced to my top is something I'll never forget.
Now the reason I just described a family dinner that happened a good two years ago is because it's necessary background info to the rest of you who are not in my immediate family to understand the point of this entire post. I would like to end it simply with a two fold apology. 1. I'm sorry dad if I choose to wear attire based on it's lack of length and "offensivity", and that I wore such a thing to a family event. And 2. I'm sorry I'm brining it back into your life now.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY: FRANK J.LIN (@f-comme-f.blogspot.de & www.f-comme-f.de)

(THE RETURN OF MARGIELA ATTIRE)
(Bra Imprinted Body - Maison Margiela x H&M) (Blue Flute Skirt - ZARA) (Oversized Envelope Clutch - XXI) (Nude Heels - XXI)
PHOTOGRAPHY BY: FRANK J.LIN
(@f-comme-f.blogspot.de & www.f-comme-f.de)