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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: A leather teddy was laser-cut like lace and embellished with thousands of little metal studs. This season’s prints combined tropical flowers, zebra stripes, and the label’s all-caps logo on repeat. Collaged together on soft-cut slip dresses with handkerchief hems worn on top of boyish cargo pants (a recurring silhouette this season), they vaguely evoked Biba, just this side of psychedelic. This section included a couple pairs of jeans. Shredded in precise diamond patterns, this was not your average denim, but it was a whole lot more casual than anything Versace has put on the runway lately, a sign of Donatella’s ambition to expand and diversify her offering. Before the end, the collection moved through the black-to-bright cycle again. Mariacarla’s black suit and sheer shirtdress mid-layer were sharp. The baby dolls, garters, and lace veils in pink, purple, and acid yellow looked torn from Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”–era playbook via Stephanie Seymour in “November Rain.” For the finale, Versace had another pop-culture blast from the past, none other than Paris Hilton in pink chain mail. Rebels of all kinds welcome here.

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1. “There was this wonderful atmosphere,” he told my colleague Laird Borrelli-Persson when tonight’s runway show was announced. “Everybody works together, so it’s been an amazing experience.” Against a backdrop of paintings by the Aboriginal Australian artist Mirdidingkingathi Juwarnda Sally Gabori, the collection leaned less Alber than it did Lutz. In that, it wasn’t dissimilar from the offerings by Magugu and Manas. “It’s very much what I like,” said Huelle, who is a designer wardrobe builder, not a trend chaser. “But it’s also more glamorous and a little more sexy.” Huelle upcycles denim, and denim was a foundational element here, only it was a dark rinse and not pre-worn. Tailoring is another throughline. The cropped vest in his own collection and in this AZ Factory offering are twins, if not identical, then fraternal. At home Huelle has been experimenting with puffed taffeta volumes on the sleeves of jersey tees. At AZF, he dressed up body-con dresses with ruffled rings that encircled the torso, one in black-on-black and the other in a floral camo that was the lineup’s hero print, also appearing on robe coats and an off-the-shoulder trapeze dress. The sequin pants looked like a good time; ditto the crystalized jeans styled with a denim T-shirt. Staying true to the Amigo concept, Huelle came out for a victory lap with members of the AZ Factory team.
2. 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?
3. 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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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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