in Julian Louie.
The Duchess's recent (and overwhelmingly exhausting) cross-city move provided ample opportunity for her to review -- with great despair -- the contents of her wardrobe. Dull gabardine pantsuit in navy, one button missing? Check. Blonde mink jacket scored at San Diego Flea Market, lining ripped? Check. Pre-Obama leopard haircalf Manolos with worn out soles and iffy scent? Check. Heavy, heavy sigh.
This taxing exercise became all the more painful in light of the Duchess's recent invite (merci!) to an upcoming awards dinner, for which she truly has nothing even remotely decent to wear. And as cruel fate would have it, the aforementioned cross-city move has left her bank account even less robust than per usual, making any major retail jag an impossibility.
Oh, but where would the Duchess be without her dreams? Until the mythical fashion fairy comes to her rescue, the Duchess will simply sit and pine for a new, and perfect frock, from none other than design world demi-god Julian Louie.
You'll notice, of course, that Mr. Louie is a drop-dead gorgeous, freakishly chic specimen, putting to one side his creative genius (icing on the cake, non?). But add in proof of his indisputable talent and you'll see, dear readers, why Mr. Louie is fashion's white-hot Bright Young Thing.
Mr. Louie has been lauded by the New York Times as one of its "Nifty 50: America's Up-and-Coming Talent," and the June issue of Vogue named him chief of one of "Thirteen Up-and-Coming New York Designer Brands" on its radar. Never one to quarrel, readers, but the Duchess has to say it: the New York Times and Vogue have gotten it all wrong.
Mr. Louie isn't up-and-coming. Mr. Louie has arrived.