At Liberty

Last night I went to an evening event at one of London's more remarkable department stores. Imagine a gigantic tudor house five stories tall, done up in different period styles, with a gorgeous central atrium and lots of nooks and crannies full of vintage furniture, velvet and satin sheets, expensive dresses, stunning shoes, antique mirrors, pillows with the founders' images on them, and huge handbags. Half museum and half store, Liberty is a visual feast, and last night they were serving up wine and Chambord martinis in an attempt to capitalize on everyone's amazement at the sheer abundance of goods on offer. It's the fashion equivalent, I think, of being shown piles of diamonds and gold in someone's well-appointed cave. I didn't forget myself and walk away with Miu Miu anything, and I kept my covetousness of the Marc Jacobs navy coat I saw thoroughly in check, but the designs and displays were so wonderful that even the experience of just walking around was thoroughly satisfying. I don't know who does the windows -- according to Emma, who invited me along, someone new has just started to do the displays, but there's a wunderkammer sensibility to it all. I didn't take any pictures last night, unfortunately, but when I went there last summer, this is what I saw in a small window. The entire store is full of these kinds of arrangements.


The main piece in the atrium was a huge, mobile-style creation made from Liberty-print scarves. It was halfway between kite and chandelier, and moved a bit in the breeze created by the crowds of people making their way up and down the stairs. There was also a zebra head decorated with bright scarves: apparently the zebra head is a Liberty staple, and moves around the store to go with various displays. Chic kitsch, I suppose, is how best to describe it. But really, the shoes were swoon-worthy, and I saw more impressive fake eyelashes than I ever have before, at the Shu Uemura counter. Do you think I could wear them to our housewarming party?

Fashion seems magical right now, between the reports of fashion weeks I've been reading (by far my favorite is Garance Dore on the Chanel show) and my experience last night. I'm still showing up at the library in my uniform of jeans and gray sweaters and shirts, mind you, but a girl can dream.