Listen, Sis. I’m not even sure what the hell just happened, but those Bellhops from Palomo Spain are like 80% of my feed rn. I fully missed the show, first of all, so it was like a slow creep of fully-fleshed moodboard fodder and refurbished Drag Race hashtags before I even understood what all the gays were keeking over.
And I’m fully there with you: highkey yelling and midkey chapped with FOMO. That’s rare for NYFW (Not Yet France, Whocares…) basically a snooze button before Paris.
Honestly, I don’t even know how to describe what I watched. You’re in Palomo Hotel and suddenly you’re immersed in the crescendo of a gay, Spanish aria and Wes Anderson is manually swatching the palette. There’s ruffles and flounces, bath-wear as outerwear, and lace, sheerness, and sheen and just a total gag of queer contraband. And then it’s over and the models are hugging their influencer pals in the audience like a giant it-girl inside joke you’re too desperately un-Millennial to fully get.
Watch the runway finale (set to a tune by Amanda Lear) and read the rest of our review after the jump. Keep an eye out for the legendary Rossy de Palma.
And the thing is, technically on paper, the concept of boys in dresses is so flazéda-ish. But this is authentically the stuff of our prepubescent fashion dreams and it’s being paraded by queer nymphs who exude the kind of prohibitive cool that is so fucking Regina George all you can do is star them quietly on Grindr. I’m like irritated and turned on at the same time.
First of all: I want satin bloomers now, so that’s new. And marabou trim on all the hems in all the land. And literally all of the footwear, especially those unexpected Tudor mules. As a matter of fact, the Tudor-meets-Diana-Ross-in-Mahogany vibe was very praying-hands-emoji.
Even this Monsters Inc. fringe moment was legendary:
So was the digital Pucci print glam. Every sequin and strand of beads is like a playful fuck-you to hegemonic masculinity:
And truth be told, this wasn’t even my favorite of Palomo’s shows. The tame tailoring in black and white was gorgeous, but like also kind of meh and I don’t really get the proportions on that tiered ruffle knit. But the fantasy is so potent and the narrative is so focused plus there’s literal actual fashion happening like it’s honestly such a bop.
This brand of Spanish Magic Realism is exactly the kind of cinematic escape we need. Because really, how dour and sobering is the political climate rn. Eew. We should always access this kind of queer daring. There was something honest in that drama and that’s always quite bold.
Plus, I read Lindsay Lohan was front row, and I can’t think of anything braver than the faux-slavic accent she’s been test-driving tbfh.
— Review by Pettina Aguilera (@hailmaryfullfiguredgrace)
A lot of guys look much better in dresses and gowns than today’s women who don’t care about healthy bodies.
That’s not gay, that’s European.
Disgusting. A total insult to the gay community.
No guy would actually wear any of this
Been a long time since a writer made me give a fuck about fashion, if only to laugh at the sheer level of bullshit these poor stickmen wade through.
More Pettina, pls.
I think those clothes missed the memo if that’s fashion.