ITEM TYPE: Poster Canvas from Byztee is premium poster canvas. Get wall art that you’ll love printed on premium canvas prints, framed art prints, poster prints, and more, all of which ship quickly and come in custom sizes.
MATERIAL: Poster Information: Edge-to-edge printing with no borders on 200 GSM paper. 36 inches x 24 inches, 24 inches x 16 inches, and 16 inches x 12 inches are the dimensions. American-made printing. This object is not framed. Canvas Information: Please choose between Framed or Unframed Canvas: Unframed canvas: You will only get one roll; they have simply printed images on a canvas that cannot be hung. You must create your bespoke frames and mount them in your manner. Framed canvas: Each image is already framed so that the canvas can be stretched. After receiving the item, all you have to do is hang it up. The already attached hook makes hanging quick and simple. 36 inches x 24 inches, 24 inches x 16 inches, and 16 inches x 12 inches are the dimensions. Symbolic artwork is printed on strong, water-repellent, and wear-resistant materials. 360 gsm woven, artist-quality ultra-thick matte canvas. Long-lasting lightfast canvas prints and UV archival inks that prevent fading. Protective coating that deters spills and scratches. Printing on one side. Customer Satisfaction Guarantee: Please request a REPLACEMENT or REFUND using the email provided with the merchandise if you have any problems. Now that you’ve reached the top, click Add to Cart to start your preferred experience.
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Related Articles: On the fall Christian Dior runway, Maria Grazia Chiuri looked to the future and the ways in which technology will reshape—and is reshaping—fashion. Her spring show today was a glance back at the past via the Italian noblewoman turned French queen Catherine de Medici, whose influence at court was not least of all sartorial. “The idea was to play with this reference and how much fashion and power are in dialogue,” Chiuri said. The collection had an element of autobiography. Chiuri, too, is an Italian in France, one whose job it is to shape fashion, and she’s had no little success in her six years at Dior, as anyone who has walked by the new Avenue Montaigne flagship with its lines of shoppers can attest. Doing research, she discovered a map of Paris in the archive dating to the house founder’s time, with Avenue Montaigne at its center (in most maps of Paris the street is further to the left; it’s not the actual center of the city). Chiuri made it a focal point of the collection, printing it the way she might the familiar toile de Jouy on a cotton trench coat, whose efficient modernity offered a counterpoint to the historical shapes that were a focus here. De Medici is credited with introducing corsets, platform heels, and Italian lace to the French court. Look 1 put the Dior atelier’s fine craftsmanship on display, its hoop cage overlaid with yards of black raffia lace. But if this was a dialogue about fashion and power, it was also a conversation between past and present. That historical skirt was paired with a bra top of the sort Chiuri’s daughter Rachele, a trusted adviser, might wear to a party. A dress with the fit-and-flare shape that is a house signature was made with drawstrings, lending it an adaptability and a sportif feel that would have been alien to Monsieur Dior. Also getting a rethink were New Look skirts in floral-embroidered cotton, patchworks of broderie anglaise, or that map print, which Chiuri split down the middle and paired with matching shorts. Three cities’ worth of shows confirms for anyone who was still unsure that the new generation’s views about exposure and bareness diverge from that of their elders. Chiuri embraces that difference. The Bar Jacket was only notable for its absence, and de Medici’s corset was utterly freed of its restrictive connotations. Chiuri treated it more like an accessory, showing it unfastened and easy over blousy shirts. The stage was set with a grotto made by the French artist Eva Jospin, its sublime intricacies belying its humble cardboard construction. Chiuri also recruited the Dutch choreographers Imre and Marne van Opstal and their troupe to perform a carnally charged dance. The collaborations extended to Tassinari & Chatel by Lelièvre Paris, responsible for the silk embroideries that appeared near the end of the show. What most impressed, however, was the raffia, which Chiuri had woven into tops, skirts, and a coat, as fine as any lace and real height-of-her-powers stuff.
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- Surf culture and beach life continually fascinate the fun-loving Dean and Dan Caten. But why surf and not, say, tennis or soccer or just plain old swimming? “Because surf is sexier, cooler, hotter,” they said backstage before their spring show. “It’s about freedom, strength, being in the ocean. There’s lots of mystique around it—ideas and lifestyle, images, music, a whole lotta culture. Very inspiring.” They enjoy surfing when in Mykonos, which just adds to their love affair with the swells. Surfers have a deceptively laid-back aesthetic, as they’re actually quite fastidious about their looks. For spring, the Catens went for a surfer girl who manages the layered styling to a hilt, elevating it to an effortless fashion form as easy as a lazy suntanning session on the beach. Transparencies were played out to express the leggerezza, that lightness of mood the designers wanted to convey. Tulle mesh, PVC, chiffon, filmy lace, and a whole panoply of sexy sheer fabrics were turned into flares, wrap skirts, leggings, blazers, and XXXL board shorts juxtaposed in an apparently haphazard jumble. The silhouette was kept lean and unfussy despite the riotous styling. Bright colors and shiny liquid surfaces (sequins, glazed nylon, stretch satin) had a tonic, vital vibe, tying the layered lineup of individual pieces into a cohesive mash-up—which, while sounding oxymoronic, gives credit to the Catens’ bravura in mastering the art of orderly, neat, sexy chaos.
- There were two sides to the collection Sialelli showed in L’Atelier des Lumières, a former foundry on Rue Saint-Maur, the walls of which he bathed in projections of poetic footage created by the film-maker Joshua Woods. On the narrative side, we were on holiday somewhere between the desert of Marrakech and the coast of Casablanca: yellow and blue coats and miniskirts constructed in shiny eel skin, seaweed-shaped embroideries on jackets, and knitted robes de style that bounced like jellyfish. On the technical side, we were between the pristine and the deconstructed: pristine coats, shorts and mini-skirts frayed at the hems, macramé tops meticulously but coarsely handcrafted in silk tubing, crispy cotton dresses, and stone-washed satin coats that played to the same contrast. Transparent cloqué coats and suits and some of the more prettified robes de style considered, “subdued” would probably be overstating the evolution. But Sialelli did clarify his proposition. Gone were the animated prints, wild art deco ornamentations, and ballroom gestures of previous seasons. In their place, he turned to an earthy palette energized with hits of electric blue and orange, and materials—such as those eel coats, or the plumage that adorned path-clearing ballerinas—that were naturally graphic rather than artificially or animatedly so. Amongst the more complex proposals were some nice options for luxurious tailoring: clean enough to be timeless and sculpted enough to push past pre-collection territory.
- At the moment this Givenchy show was due to start in the Jardin des Plantes—outdoors—it was raining in a concerted and highly depressing manner. Luckily Valentino had started so late, and, thanks to footwear dramas, gone on so long, that the fashion traffic jam was around 30 minutes late squeezing its way to this show. The rain calmed as we crawled onwards. What had seemed an imminent catastrophe was scaled down by the time we arrived to mere potentially preventable disaster. The set-up was a runway and benches made of cork. We wiped them down and sat on our umbrellas to avoid getting soaked unmentionables. You were better off wearing dark pants—that cork stained. By the time the first models emerged there was blue above. A fascinating piece in the New York Times had already created an anticipatory contextualization for what was a radical shift under Matthew Williams. He’d brought in Carine Roitfeld—no longer working with MaxMara—as a stylist and shifted the emphasis of what that newspaper’s writer Jessica Testa inferred was a house with no distinct codes. But was that so? What we got was a sandwich fashioned from couture flavored bread—delicate, feminine, sometimes derivative and a little processed—that was filled with a highly-flavored LA mayonnaise. The ruching on the opening, excellent dresses, was an Hubert staple. The boucle jackets, conversely, did not belong here: this was a brazen sample to drop. During one weird moment the show transitioned to Williams’s home territory of streetwear infused contemporaneousness—great denim, slouchy combats, all of that—just as the soundtrack segued into Fleetwood Mac’s Everywhere; the most vanilla track one could ever imagine this highly progressive music-lover choosing. I looked across the runway and noticed that Ye was tapping the toes of his Balenciaga gumboots in time. Things were getting weird. The closing phase was rather magnificent, although the party was often at the back. A red dress featured a gorgeous swooping rear hemline that curved from the shoulder to sacrum. Another dress was tied up at the back in a series of bows: simple but lovely. These, Williams said afterwards, were part of a series of archival looks that he and Roitfeld had dug up from the archives and reworked. So this is a house with codes, after all. Was Willams losing his mind when that storm came in? He feigned calm, saying: “I was thinking that their skin would look beautiful with the water on it. And the liquid in the hair… it would look incredible. And that it would be more dramatic in the rain.” He added of Roitfeld’s involvement: “She understands the house and the Parisian woman. So we built the collection together—it’s a dialogue between us. The beautiful thing about the brand is that it speaks to different women. It’s good to speak to everybody.” Even if the risk in trying to speak to everyone is that you end up connecting with no-one. However Williams, I suspect, could still untie the knotty problem that is Givenchy. As the Times of New York pitched it, he just needs time. But will he get it?
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Talk about diving in headfirst! Nobody embraces a theme like Jeremy Scott, a fact he’s reinforced throughout his eight-year run at Moschino, but this season he really went for it. “Everybody’s talking about inflation,” he said backstage. “The cost of everything’s going up: housing, food, life. So I took inflation into the collection.” He wasn’t talking about rising hemlines or oversized volumes either. He meant it literally, as we learned from look 1, a little black dress with Franco Moschino’s iconic heart done up as a mini inflatable “with a nozzle and everything.” By this observer’s count, every look save for a small handful had some sort of inflatable detail, be it a heart-shaped collar or hemline or “broken heart” lapels, one half on either side of neatly tailored jackets. There’s precedent for these kinds of antics. The house founder made a life jacket for his 1989 Cruise Me Baby collection that looked a lot like the vests stored under plane seats “in case of emergency.” Riffing on that idea, Scott added a life preserver ring to the jacket hem of a tweed skirt suit, and cut a trench in caution yellow with black raft handles where the epaulets should be. “Sometimes we feel like we’re drowning,” Scott continued, acknowledging the bad news stories clogging our feeds. “I’m sure you do. I know I do. But no matter what is going on, we have to save space for joy, right? The darker it is, the lighter I have to be.” Making good on that promise, he embellished his evening looks with honest-to-goodness pool floaties. The most inspired of the bunch included a strapless purple column cinched at the waist with the deflated ends of a pink raft, its pneumatic ends creating a train, and another strapless number that was accompanied by a Lilo stole. By the end, Imaan Hammam’s look was more of a floatation device than gown, but that was Scott’s point. Anyone who could use a little buoying up, Scott’s your pool boy.
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