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Jessica McClintock

A A A Comments By THEO DOUGLAS Thursday, Feb 16 2006

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The '70s were still on life support when I was in high school—I am really, really old—and I remember being very badly dressed at some other high school's prom only because I didn't go to my own. The good news—if you can call it that—is, thanks to Jessica McClintock's "Evening at Jessica's" collection, nothing has changed. The bad things in life apparently stay that way—and, like me, you can look as bad or worse than I did at your prom. Which you would expect in a rental tuxedo, it being borrowed—wing collar, adjustable cummerbund and bow tie, flared pants, hideous satin stripes on the outer seams. Plus teenage guys always look bad. But a prom dress should not only fit you—it should also be cute. CUTE!

Much of McClintock's collection looks like it arrives as a simple satin tube that you hold up over your boobs; and when your mom pulls the rip cord, it gathers itself into a skintight party balloon of a confection—and you float around all happy-like until the helium runs out. Why must her dresses be gathered and ruched within inches of their lives? Her models are divine—smokin', even—but everyone's watching the dress like a train wreck.

Also? Materials! If they're not satin, they're crinolined out to your armpits—and if they're not crinoline, they're . . . something that looks like it was approved by the Brawny lumberjack dude. I'm glad I'm a guy. I only have to write about this stuff.

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