MAKEUP: LISA AHARON

MAKEUP: LISA AHARON
THE WORK: Marc Jacobs, Marc by Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang, Jeremy Laing, Tommy Hilfiger, Givenchy Couture, Giorgio Armani Privé, Custo Barcelona, Zero Maria Cornejo, 3.1 Phillip Lim, United Bamboo and Ports 1961. INSPIRATION: “Serge Lutens, Pat McGrath, Dick Page. Film and music.” TOOLS SHE CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: “My Inoui ID brushes and Shu Uemura lash curler.” PRODUCTS SHE CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT: “Caudalíe Beauty Elixir, Homéoplasmine, Laura Mercier Secret Camouflage, Chanel black kohl pencil, Rouge Dior Lipstick in ‘Rich Garnet,’ Armani #2 Sheer Cream Blush, Nars ‘Penny Lane’ Cream Blush.” BEAUTY ICONS: “Brigitte Bardot and Audrey Hepburn.” BIGGEST SPLURGE IN HER KIT: “Paris Berlin foundations—they are amazing!” UP NEXT: “I’ve always wanted to move to New York to do fashion. Recently, that happened, as I am now first assistant to a brilliant makeup artist, and I moved there this fall.” —Kim Izzo
Shown: Backstage at GIORGIO ARMANI PRIVE Fall 2007.

THE CHALLENGE: YOUR ULTIMATE EYEBROW

THE CHALLENGE: YOUR ULTIMATE EYEBROW
THE MASTER
Mathew Nigara, makeup artist for Diane von Furstenberg, Monique Lhuillier and BCBG runway shows, as well as celebrities like Kate Winslet and Sarah Michelle Gellar.
NIGARA’S BROW ICONS
Elizabeth Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Cate Blanchett.
WHY YOU NEED TO MASTER IT
“Like your eyes and lips, eyebrows are a characteristic that should offer you options. Consider the power of a smoky eye. A darkened brow can be an equally bold expression. In the same way, precisely manicured arches can be a powerful statement alongside soft, neutral eyes. Your ultimate goal is to get an elongated brow—one that mimics the shape of the eyebrow when you push the skin at your temple back toward your hairline. Think of it as an upside-down check mark: long, straight and flat, with a downward curve at the end. You need the downward slope to make it look natural, so you don’t appear to be in a constant state of surprise. This straighter, gentle arching look brings attention toward the centre of your face, gives you a slightly lifted appearance and is the perfect frame for your eyes. Forget the idea of having the arch placed directly above the pupil. You don’t want the comma, parenthesis or any other kind of punctuation mark–shaped brow.”
DIANE VON FURSTENBERG Fall 2007. Photography by Beautytakes.

Alexander McQueen PARIS, March

PARIS, March 4, 2005 – Tippi Hedren and Marilyn Monroe. Biker molls and sweater girls. You got it: Alexander McQueen went to the sixties, all the way, for fall. With its filched movie and rock 'n' roll themes, the collection read as a knowing vehicle, a McQueen director's cut. Glacially restrained tailoring, early rocker chic, the classic Hollywood ball gown moment: He had 'em all. Plus great hair, great music, and a roar of old-school glamour.
But there's no such thing as a McQueen routine without a sinister psychological subtext or two. Was there a hint in the invitation—a pastiche of the film poster for Vertigo, superimposed with the title of another Hitchcock movie, The Man Who Knew Too Much? What McQueen knows shows aplenty. His combined knowledge of Savile Row tailoring and Parisian couture means he can scissor an impeccably narrow gray tweed coat or a nipped-waist pencil skirt suit, and put sizzle into period sobriety. The same goes for his showstopper Charles James-meets-Marilyn evening gowns, with their strapless sculpted fishtails and "Happy birthday, Mr. President" spangles.
But there's an underlying strain in all this knowingness, too. At a time when fashion demands commercial reality, theatrics alone can't carry a show. McQueen, perhaps with a weary sense of show 'em what they want, also put out a lot (Navajo blankets, tasseled suede circa The Misfits), which turned parts of the presentation into a merchandise run-through of dubious taste. A cynical trotting out of an overextended theme isn't what the fashion world expects of Alexander McQueen. We know; he knows: He's bigger than that. So was that why, to the sounds of Elvis echoing through the hall, he left the building without comment?– Sarah Mower

PARIS, October 10, 2003 – It takes a showman like Alexander McQueen

PARIS, October 10, 2003 – It takes a showman like Alexander McQueen to get the lifeblood pumping back into fashion performance. His show—staged in the Salle Wagram, a nineteenth-century Parisian dance hall—was an exuberantly hilarious reenactment of Sydney Pollack's Depression-era film They Shoot Horses, Don't They? Choreographed by Michael Clark over two weeks of intensive rehearsals in London, the narrative involved dancers, models, and audience in a visceral celebration of exquisitely glamorous clothes.
In the opening scene, the girls entered—dancing for all they were worth on the arms of muscle-bound sailors and hunky hopefuls—dressed in fishtailed silver lamé, figure-hugging cha-cha dresses, and show-stopping gowns with spangled bodices and huge feathered skirts. Other competitors whirled on wearing pink corseted tulle tutus over gray ballet sweats; mint satin tap-suits; or a slinky confection of gray checkerboard chiffon. A Billie Holiday look-alike, dramatically vamping in pink charmeuse and ostrich, vied for attention as flashy bodysuited showgirls were energetically twirled aloft by their partners.
McQueen's signatures—elaborately pieced tailoring (now beautifully softened with delicate inserts of lingerie) and body-hugging denims spliced onto nude tulle—also did star turns. The pace picked up even further in the elimination race, in which morphed-together fluorescent chiffons and sports pieces ran hell-for-leather (on impossibly high heels) in a hotly contested dash around the room.
There was even an opening for daywear. Blue-collar marathon survivors staggered out wearing plaid shirts, coats, and skirts made from quilts and recycled patchworks of shirting material, all crafted to the McQueen sex-bomb template. The show reached its climax as a lone exhausted dancer in a silver sequined gown mock-expired center stage. As she was carried off by the designer and his choreographer, thunderous applause rocked the hall.– Sarah Mower

Alexander McQueen’s PARIS, March 8, 2003

PARIS, March 8, 2003 – A glass wind-tunnel corridor bridging a snow-covered wasteland: that was the bleak techno-meets-nature setting for Alexander McQueen’s mind trip for fall. "I wanted it to be like a nomadic journey across the tundra," he said. "A big, desolate space, so that nothing would distract from the work."
The clothes, sculpted into his signature nip-waisted, stiff A-line skirt silhouettes, exhibited all the intense craft and some of the shapes that he learned during his stint at Givenchy couture. It bumped his ready-to-wear up to a new level, and if the plot—which traveled through Eurasian ethnic into punk and on to motocross—wasn't all that understandable, the decorative impact made up for it.
Fantastic details were lavished on dramatic structured carapaces, embroidered, painted and mind-blowingly embellished to look like antique samurai armor, Russian lacquered dolls and tribal ceremonial dress. Somewhere along the line, the stiff pleated skirts segued into molded suits, done in jigsaws of two-tone checkerboard—the better to show off the designer’s devilishly accurate cutting skills.
McQueen can’t resist some theatrics: he sent two models into the wind tunnel, one wearing a skintight leather suit harnessed to a billowing parachute, the other dragging a twenty-foot kimono into the eye of the fake snowstorm. Still, the moments that made the audience catch its breath were those that betrayed McQueen's softer, more romantic side. One was a jacket constructed of white tulle pom-poms that looked like a bubble of snowballs. The other was the prettiest dress in the show: pale gray chiffon cut in an empire shape, embroidered with sequins and worn by Natalia Vodianova with the brightest red ruched over-the-knee boots.– Sarah Mower

Alexander McQueen PARIS

PARIS, March 9, 2002 – Casting away all but one of his usual theatrical props, Alexander McQueen proved to Paris that his design can stand on its own dramatically erotic strengths. Showing in the shadowy medieval vaulted hall of the Conciergerie, McQueen couldn't resist a lone, macabre trick—a vista of a pack of caged wolves, and the opening image of a lone figure clad in a purple leather cape leading a pair of dogs (who looked more scared than scary). But that was just for old times' sake. When his models stalked out in brown tweed, tailored to within an inch of their lives, and strapped into variations on brown leather braces, it was clear McQueen was concentrating on clothes and not theatrics.
His vixenish women had tiny-waisted silhouettes done with amazing attention to cut and detail. Milkmaid necklines—far from innocent-were pushed up by leather bodices that curved down into the tightest pencil skirts, and finished off with thigh-high leather boots. McQueen moved from that Helmut Newton-esque fantasy to another—bad schoolgirls, who mixed lingerie and silver lamé ties and skirts in with their proper blazers and duffels. For a splendid finale, he brought out romantic flouncy skirts, an exaggerated puff sleeved black velvet coat and a skirt made of swags of jet beading. Best of all, he's softened his sometimes severe hand so that the idea of wearing these pieces seems not just possible, but quite appealing.
A trim McQueen took his bow in a bespoke suit made by the Savile Row tailors, Huntsman. It seemed like a coming of age. "I wanted it to be romantic, beautiful," he said. "Power to the women! I got fit for this and I worked hard for it."– Sarah Mower

ALEXANDER MCQUEEN Colorful lights

LONDON, February 21, 2001 – Colorful lights, a merry-go-round, the sound of children? Alexander McQueen's mise-en-scène brought to mind family trips, fun and games, and maybe a couple of lighthearted mimes.
But once the lights went down and the blaring soundtrack began, it became perfectly clear that there was nothing even remotely candy-coated about his lascivious carnival crashers. Cavorting and gyrating around poles, a posse of hard-as-nails girls took over the stage wearing shiny patent-leather jackets and jeans, scalloped coats and skirts, S&M overcoats, skintight leather pants and ornate military jackets that would've put Napoleon to shame. A nearly naked princess turned up in little more than a feathered headdress, a net gown and a few chains; her cohorts wore frayed sweaters with giant skulls and bones, and long suit jackets that became dresses as they wrapped around the body and then draped at the side.
When the frantic pace finally slowed down, it was to reveal an eerie backdrop of gigantic stuffed animals, discarded dolls, puppets, balloons and ragged circus paraphernalia, out of which several macabre characters emerged, wearing massive ruffles, centuries-old suits and beat-up lace. The perfect accessory? One of McQueen's otherworldly creatures dragged around a golden skeleton with her foot.– By Armand Limnander

http://www.style.com/fashionshows/collections/S2001RTW/review/AMCQUEEN

LONDON

LONDON, September 26, 2000 – Alexander McQueen's show was nothing short of monumental. The audience sat around a mirrored cube, which, when lit from inside, revealed itself to be a mental-hospital holding cell. Demented girls, wearing hospital headbands and everything from extraordinary mussel-shell skirts to impossibly chic pearl-colored cocktail dresses, slithered and strutted while uselessly attempting to fly over the cuckoo's nest.
McQueen was at his very best: There were gothic, theatrical pieces, like a dress with a miniature castle and rat posing as a shoulder pad; a top made out of a jigsaw puzzle; and a huge feathered creation with stuffed eagles suspended over the model's head, poised to attack à la Hitchcock. But amidst all the insanity, there was a cornucopia of startlingly elegant—and wearable—pantsuits, flouncy party dresses, and even a spectator pump or two.
How to top off such a climactic presentation? After everyone thought it was all over, another cube within the psychiatric ward-cum-runway opened up to reveal a portly nude woman, her face covered by a mask, breathing through a tube, surrounded by fluttering moths. It was a truly shocking and enthralling tableau: Francis Bacon via Leigh Bowery and Lucien Freud. In a word, sublime.– By Armand Limnander

runway

PARIS, October 6, 2001 – "The Dance of the Twisted Bull" was the title of Alexander McQueen's highly anticipated collection, his first since partnering with Gucci Group and deciding to show in Paris.
McQueen pulled off a bravura, Latin-themed romp. One particularly theatrical dress came equipped with banderillas—the long spears with which bullfighters pique bulls—that seemed to impale the wearer in order to support a long ruffled train in the back. Another, a severely deconstructed blood-red señorita dress, had part of a jacket attached at the waist, while a matador-inspired strapless gown featured a built-in sword. An assortment of polka-dotted frocks were layered over matching stockings, and cinched with corset-like straps and holster-inspired tops.
Alongside these dramatic statements came plenty of carefully tailored, eminently wearable clothes, deftly proving McQueen's ability to mix iconoclastic statements with commercially viable product. Razored jackets were softened via seashell-like pleated skirts with gently upturned fronts; flared-sleeve eyelet shirts, layered skirts, and embroidered white jeans all looked confident, as did the cut-out dresses and sharp-as-a-tack toreador suits.– By Armand Limnander

PARIS

PARIS, October 8, 2004 – "It was a lot of McQueen, all in one big collection." Thus spake the designer after a performance that came across as a positioning statement—in more ways than one. The presentation summed up all his experience in sharp tailoring, spectacular romantic dresses, couture richness, and downright showmanship. And, with every look laid out on a giant chessboard, it couldn't help but suggest a metaphor for the workings of the fashion industry.
The chess device allowed McQueen to redo all his greatest moments, but in a prettier, lighter, more accessible way. He used the 1975 film Picnic at Hanging Rock to work a girlish Edwardian theme, starting with tiny sailor jackets, school blazers, ticking-striped shirts, and gray knee-length shorts, then adding lovely white lace blouses and dresses. From there, it was onto the eighteenth century, in the form of precious flower-embroidered jackets over candy-striped puffball skirts, and dreamy floral chiffon dresses floating from Empire bodices.
By the time the 36 models had taken up their positions, reminders of all McQueen's past signatures and silhouettes were in place: the Savile Row-sharp tail coats; richly embroidered Japanese kimonos; streamlined sci-fi bodysuits; rigid molded corsets; and stiff, flounced godet skirts. En masse, it was very impressive. And even if this comprehensive résumé didn't move his game along, most of the ideas had benefited from the designer's revisions. They looked even better second time around: more feminine, less aggressive, and much more desirable. Checkmate!– Sarah Mower

alexander mcqueen

PARIS, October 5, 2002 – Alexander McQueen, showman, bad boy, where are you now? After joining Gucci Group and losing 30 pounds, the designer has shed his famously macabre show tactics. The most shocking things about his summer presentation were its stripped-down, old-fashioned romance and solid commercial appeal. Against a giant screen projection of underwater scenes and Blair Witch–style haunted woods, McQueen unfolded a sartorial narrative that began with pirates and drowned maidens and ended in the rainforest. The odd journey took in brown leather corset vests and minis, worn with creamy chiffon ruffles, drapey knicker-length shorts, and Elizabethan doublets and ruffs. After a diversion into a largely redundant black sequence, McQueen burst out with prints and colors, and some major showstoppers in the form of floaty dresses in vibrant tie-dyes and jumpsuits in lime and electric blue. His crescendo was a rainbow-colored floor-sweeping gown with tulle ruffles and some spectacular boleros made of what looked like bird-of-paradise feathers.– Sarah Mower

http://www.style.com/fashionshows/collections/S2004RTW/review/AMCQUEEN

PARIS, October 6, 2007 – First, what must be said: Alexander McQueen's Spring collection was a tribute to the late Isabella Blow, the woman who discovered him, famously propelled his career from a student rack to a couture house, and faithfully wore his clothes—and Philip Treacy's hats—in their most extreme manifestations. Second, though: All terrible emotions apart, McQueen, like every other designer, can only be judged in the unsparing light of the general arena of fashion. To put it bluntly, this collection—after an off season last time—was going to stand or fall based on whether his clothes were any good.It stood. McQueen mustered the clarity to dispense with smoke and mirrors and show his capabilities in cut, drape, and feathered flourish to an audience near enough to inspect every detail. He stepped up to the plate by running through all his archived knowledge—Savile Row tailoring in Prince of Wales menswear check jackets and strict, strong-shouldered suiting, combined with the legacy of his couture experience in fan-pleated chiffon, goddess-y drape, and hand-crafted drama. The theme of birds—particularly symbolic of Blow—held the show together through a reprise of all the highlights of McQueen's career. The molded-hip silhouette of a jacket and dusty, twisted georgette gowns came from his Barry Lyndon show; the floating bird-of-paradise prints, from his "shipwreck" season; the ombré-printed vast-shouldered kimonos, from his Japanese couture collection for Givenchy; the trapezoid shapes, transposed from the tricorne hats of his "highwayman" moment; the lace stockings, reprised from his They Shoot Horses… performance. And so on.But this isn't really the point. McQueen has indulged in self-referential wallows in the past before, but this, for the most part, avoided that feeling. If some of his carapace-stiff shapes are as unviable as they ever were, the airy rainbow-bird-wing-printed pleating, an Art Nouveau-patterned blouse, and his romantic fairy-goddess chiffons put him back in the game of current trend (though they'd have been better without the fierce waist-cinching belts that looked like a hangover from winter). In all, McQueen honored his mentor by striving to bring out the best in himself.– Sarah Mower