On paper, feathers don’t feel particularly fresh. But ignore them at your peril. Plumes are still riding high come autumn. They were most liberally applied at Mary Katrantzou, where women moved like sea anemones, their soft tendrils wafting in the breeze; elsewhere, feathers adorned shoulders and hemlines, frothing at wrists and spilling from shoulders in wondrous ways that at times recalled Ginger Rogers, and at others Julia Roberts in The Mexican (because, as we all know, that feathered neckline saved the film).
© Victor VIRGILE