First of all, the store itself was moved. It used to be a spacious men's/women's store that was fairly pleasant to walk around in, but recently (don't know how recently, because it's not often that I find myself in the position to purchase Marc Jacobs clothing) the men's and women's sections were put in separate buildings. The men's store is now ridiculously tiny and difficult to maneuver through because of endless crowds of tourists eating Magnolia cupcakes (which are infinitely inferior to Sugar Sweet Sunshine cupcakes, or the cupcakes they make at Nettie's Cafe, the fantastic coffee shop/bakery that just opened in my neighborhood). Most of the merchandise was placed so high you could hardly see it without being either ridiculously tall (like Danny) or in possession of a step stool. Because the clothing sucks so hardcore this season, though, it was to my benefit that it was so difficult to see and touch.
I very strongly believe that fashion should be unexpected, fun, and not adhere to predetermined dictates. Almost anything (except sarongs, espadrilles, and non-functional hats) can look good if some thought and experimental fervor is put into it: I'm open to jumpsuits, Dansko clogs, electric colors that make your face bleed, velour, pvc, corduroy overalls, even skorts, as long as the finished product is something you look at and think "wow, I never would have thought that would look good, but how brilliant."
But, for some reason I can't quite understand, Marc Jacobs decided it was an excellent idea to emblazon at least a third of his men's collection with PEACE SIGNS. Peace signs. I understand the man recently got out of rehab, but peace signs? Not only does it look hideous on bags, t shirts, and sweaters, but it's also the most derivative thing ever in the guise of being fun and cheeky. It's like his inspiration came from Party City and Spencer's Gifts--he may as well start selling mood rings and yin yang pens with neon pink feathers bursting from the top.
Not to mention everything looked cheap, the fabric felt chintzy--the pants could have been sold at Old Navy. He also included several shearling coats that looked like you could find them in one of those leather merchant stalls in midtown on a Sunday afternoon stroll following Applebeetinis and a hearty meal at Red Lobster.
The only thing worthwhile in the entire (very crammed) store was an awesome leather tote bag--buttery soft, perfect brown, with a laptop compartment on the front that managed to look sleek and not clunky businessman from suburban Atlanta. This bag, I might add, was not part of the Marc by Marc collection but the more high-end Marc Jacobs fall line.