Danielle Frankel describes her namesake brand as “a fashion label” whose “medium is bridal,” a minor yet important distinction that indeed manages to capture her creative output. To wit, consider that this season began with the exploration of an über down-to-earth fabric: jersey. “There are a few things that I’ve been wanting to do for forever, one of which is work with Jersey,” she explained in her Midtown showroom. “Jersey is a fabric that, I as a person, just live in. I try to live in comfort—but this has nothing to do with comfort—I just thought [jersey] would visually be very, very new and would perform well.”
And so her super-soft silk jersey, with a hand more akin to suede, was used in a spring-y strapless babydoll-shape top decorated with a small bouquet of metal-cast real flowers, and worn with an ankle-grazing draped skirt that was surely poised to make a beach bride very happy; while a draped goddess gown has subtle lace appliqués and has the sinuous lines of ancient carved marble sculptures. But it was in Frankel’s application of the fabric on a ballgown with an ultra-dropped-waist, deep-V-shaped gathered skirt whose bodice was layered with a sheer layer of sand-colored lace appliqued with contrasting ivory flowers that the “fashion-first” distinction fully hit—it is not a pristine-white dress, but instead hints a deeper melancholy in its unexpected beauty. Surely an emotional rarity in the bridal world—but not Danielle Frankel’s.
Even her more “classic bride” propositions are pushed to new heights: delicate Lyon floral lace is layered over honeycomb lace on a simple slip; while on another, corded lace was carefully cut into bias-cut strips then pieced back together into a clean, spaghetti-strap ballgown silhouette. “The other thing from this season is I didn’t want to do any pleating,” Frankel added. “We do a lot of pleating and I wanted to do a new version, so we developed this technique using bias-cut strips that almost read as pleats, but they’re not.”
Elsewhere, a series of hand-painted gowns in a silk fabric woven with metal fibers evoked both Impressionist paintings—on a ballgown with a delicately gathered bodice and a skirt painted with abstract dusty pink flowers against a sea of moody blues and greens that gave the illusion that the dress was constructed from paper maché—and romantic whimsy—like on an easy sheer slip dress painted with falling flowers, and worn over white silk trousers. The thick edges of paint on the lace indeed appeared to be real flower petals flowing all around the model. These two—along with another strapless sheer layered number with a smattering of flowers at its bubble hem—are made for “I Do’s” but god, how great would it be to see them walk the steps of the Metropolitan Museum at this year’s Met Gala. (The dress code, if you recall, is “The Garden of Time.”) “I think that we’re challenging ourselves in different ways,” Frankel adds. “I want to give [our customer] what she doesn’t know she wants.”
