H&M x Versace – the skinny
And I mean, the very skinny. I rocked up this morning to check out the range, fully prepared to be too late to queue given reports online that stores in the Middle East had already sold out of the much …
And I mean, the very skinny. I rocked up this morning to check out the range, fully prepared to be too late to queue given reports online that stores in the Middle East had already sold out of the much anticipated collaboration with Versace, and knowing that I had spent 45 minutes that could have been spent getting ready, lying in bed hitting the snooze button over and over again.
On my way, I bumped into James O’Neill of Bitches with Wolves (some things just can’t be asterisked), who expressed disgust that there was no menswear (why the short stick for the Republic again, H&M?) and gave me the wristband he had diligently queued for. Score! My admission time? 9.25am. It was now 8.30am so I commenced chatting to people in the queue, ready and waiting to be the first to snap up some swag at 9am.
Two women I spoke to had arrived at 4am; and they weren’t the first. They told me that someone had been there since 2am – later on, I spoke to customer zero, the first Irish person to shop Versace x H&M (presumably, second only to the H&M staff), who admitted that she had arrived the night before at 11pm to camp overnight for the range. But was it really that good?
In short, no. And yes. Confused? Versace is a huge brand, so for people who yearn after designer labels, the chance to own a tiny portion of that exclusivity is something worth going for. But the clothing itself, as I saw Alexandra Donald put it, was “a cheap version of a cheap label”. Palm print leggings are cool, eyecatching and not hugely expensive at €29.95; a black studded vest top, at €39.95, seemed a bit more extreme – and the size 14 is a comfortable size 10 at best. At €24.95, the orchid rings are cool, quirky and a fun way of picking up a portion of the brand, while the cuffs and chokers were a little too Stargate for my liking. And no sign of the leather trench . . .
Image via Columbine, my new number one obsession . . .
Oh, also a big shout-out to Ciara, who Dublin biked it over to me with a Starbucks latte in the basket, like a messenger from caffeine heaven, at 8.45am.