The day that Phoebe Philo’s debut collection arrived online last fall felt not unlike the first time that Beyoncé cold-dropped an album on all of us. “It’s live!” someone announced, and an electric energy filled the office as everyone more or less dropped what they were doing to see what Philo’s new vision would entail. Afterwards we would look on social media to see who was able to buy a piece, and after that what it looked like when the inevitable selfies and unboxing videos began making their rounds. Though its hard-to-get approach was simply a product of Philo figuring out a new way of working with the system, it felt like there was something missing.
So it was an exciting development when it was announced less than a week ago that her collection would be available for sale at Bergdorf Goodman in New York for a limited time. I made a mental note to myself to go and feel it all. Taking the train there today, I felt the familiar sense of excitement of when I had first moved to the city at 22 and would take the subway uptown to get lost in clothes and imagine what a version of me that wore designer clothes would be, might look like, might feel. It’s not something I do anymore, maybe because I’m older or maybe because I’m a mom with no leisure time for wandering and daydreaming.
Outside Bergdorf’s, giant screens showed Phoebe Philo’s signature tongue-in-cheek imagery, a close-up of elegantly manicured feet in asymmetrical high heeled sandals doing leg presses, a shot of a woman from behind, wearing white trousers and wildly swinging her body side to side while balancing on that one machine at the gym were you hold yourself up that’s apparently called a “power tower, interspersed with the Phoebe Philo logo in bold lipstick red and and a large O. (Why not a P? I thought, but that’s Phoebe for you.) Inside, I made my way to the fourth floor following only instinct. I turned a corner to find a mini-store complete with a glass facade bearing the logo and one of those black tube things that people use for crowd control at the airport or, I guess, luxury retail stores. The glass partition feels extra-special, as most other designers on that floor have a dedicated rack or a sort of anteroom that is a more contained space while still remaining fully open at the front. The space also has at least one fitting room which is occupied by different customers the entire time I am there. The furnishings are sparse, and the big lipstick-red cylinders that anchor the accessory displays feel quasi Memphis-inspired. There are also a couple midcentury modern chairs are in a corner next to two mirrors, and lots of chrome everywhere. A security guard stood across the way next to a gaggle of employees—a mix of Bergdorf Goodman retail staff and Phoebe’s women (one of which was wearing the “Utility Dropped Waist Jacket” in cargo green and matching trousers)—who watched the goings-on.
