Michael Kors Hits His Stride

Any time I hear Marianne Faithfull on a runway is a good day in fashion. On Thursday, Michael Kors played her 1979 song “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan,” and while its lyrics are set in Paris, it expressed the collection’s feeling of escape and wanderlust and, more beautifully, a mellowing view of the world.

With music and casting, Kors has always known how to get under the skin of his audience. In the past, he has often wrapped up his show with an upbeat pop classic or a Mr. New York kind of tune as he dashes down the runway, so the choice of this particular Faithfull song was a difference. And his cast seemed to include a few more older models than usual, all wearing minimal makeup and a look of genuine confidence.

The collection was one of the designer’s best in a while because it was clear and concise in its point of view and relevant in terms of style. For most of the show, the clothes struck a balance between soft and hard, transparent and hidden, formal and informal. A number of slim dresses, for example, ended in a wide, asymmetrical panel of sheer fabric. Other styles had caped shoulders and sleeves. And there were tailored jackets — some cinched with a masculine leather belt — with full harem pants or trousers pegged at the ankles. Often the models wore rustic sandals or low-heeled shoes.

Because of the harem pants, the layers, and some tented shapes, there was a sense of other cultures in the collection. But Kors generally blurred the distinctions, and the overriding feeling was one of a wardrobe aimed at less fussy lives and the reality of warmer temperatures. The fabrics looked rich but airy and light, and suede pieces were perforated. Quite a few of his customers were dressed to the nines, some in miniskirts trimmed at the hem with leather or raffia; another woman had on a black pencil skirt, a tight bandeau top, and stilettos. The new collection, in its desert shades of brown, pink, and slate, and its distant echoes of travel, seemed to leave them behind.

Later in the day, around sunset, the intrepid Hillary Taymour held her Collina Strada show on a helipad overlooking the East River and people speeding past on Jet Skis. She called the collection “Shade,” and for every model in satiny pastels, she had a twin, their shadow, in head-to-toe black. She said it was her way of commenting on the darkness in the world. And when I remarked that not a lot of designers are willing to be openly political, Taymour laughed and said, “Yeah, I know. I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as ‘a lot of designers.’” The show included a song called “Friendly Fascism.”

There was also a practical reason for the black. Taymour recently opened her first store, on Orchard Street, and that’s what sells. What I liked best about this collection — and it was a forceful one, not just because of its political shade — was Taymour’s freewheeling sense of volume. Her opening jeans were extra big and fun. But then she pulled things in for a delicate, bare-all slip dress and some puff-sleeved tops that seemed out of the Italian Renaissance by way of Brooklyn.

Kate Barton, a graduate of SCAD, started her label a few years ago by making party clothes that used all kinds of technology for a molded, glossy, almost futuristic look. She was ambitious, and her ideas were basically sound. But in the past few years, the world has changed and Barton has adapted. Her new collection, shown on Thursday to a very attentive audience, still has her metal and molded effects, but now they’re often an illusion — a print on wearable cotton. It’s a wise and well-done shift.