A rose is a rose is a rose (I said that) except when it's a long-stem gown that feels like a rose -- petalish and curved and lushly-layered. I'm pretty sure Emma had a red rose in a vase as a muse, instead of Ines de la Fressange. That way, when the muse got old and nasty and not so amusing any more, she could just chuck that piece o trash and get a new one. And not have to set the old muse up with a business and an atelier in Paris. Let's think about the fleeting life of a muse...
ok that's enough.
Now, let's think about whether designers feel like they always have to wear their own work. On the one hand, it's good advertising. On the other hand, you've pretty much pulled the rug out of the dramatic pre-event scene in which you collapse on your clothing-strewn floor and whine, I have nuthing to weeeeeaaaaarrrrr, and kind of kick at some nasty Valentino thing that's easily 24 minutes old. Because all you have to do is maaaaaake it.
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