Dear C. Bailey,
I know it’s hard being the David Beckham of the fashion world. It’s difficult having the fashion crowd flip-flop between loving and loathing you like the Britney Spears does with that thing called Fate. We loved you when you cropped the iconic mac to within an inch of immodesty and even more when you studded the entire spring 2007 collection like a young girl christening her first BeDazzler. But we shunned you when you championed Victoria Beckham as a beacon of contemporary style. Heck, we still (partially) hate you when we hear the word ‘chav’.
But passion-fuelled sentiments aside, the hardest part of being you must be fending off the herds of imitators looking to cash in on that Bailey acumen. Some would argue it’s flattering, even charming - especially the way in which the counterfeiters along Canal Street shout out Burberry! in that chirpy, frenetic manner that plays like a soundtrack to black market escapades (BU-BU-RI! BU-BU-RI!) - but you’d be the first to frown upon such blatant inspiration. So when I see stuff like this, I can’t help but underscore it with a public letter.
To be honest, you’re the not the first or the last designer to be guilty of ‘creative osmosis’. I mean, half of New York wouldn’t furnish one garment without last season’s Chloe pictures on Style.com. But this looks like a case of Big Bad Burberry biting at poor little Christopher Kane’s pie. Remember, Versace backing and all, the young Glaswegian is not above acquiescing to high street collaborations alongside the likes of B-list labels like Libertine and Tara Jarmon.
Luckily Christopher, I’m a really forgiving guy. My friends will tell you the same thing. Send me one of those neoprene trenches you did for next spring and you’ll see it too.
Regards,
Adrian
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