• A French bankruptcy court has backed a plan that will cut 90% of Christian Lacroix's staff, and reduce the 22-year-old house to a licensing operation. [ToL]
• None other than Simon Doonan is decorating the White House for Christmas. [NYTimes]

• Speaking of the Obamas: Naeem Khan made not one but five dresses for Michelle Obama to consider for the state dinner last week. "It took 10 people three weeks to make the embroidery," says the Indian-born designer. The dresses were made in America, but the beading came from India. [W]
• The point of this story seems to be: Rihanna has changed her style remarkably since she started entertaining us with song. [CNN]
• Tiger Woods may still be wanted for questioning by the Florida Highway Patrol, but Nike is emphatically standing by their $40-million star. [WWD]
• Kate Hudson loved the costumes in her movie Nine, set in 1960s Italy like its progenitor, 8 1/2, because the period fabulousness reminded her of watching her mother get dressed as a little girl. [UPI]
• Catherine McNeil's Australian Vogue comeback cover is out. [Models.com]
• Hey, everyone! This week is the week that all the major department stores expect to magically start reducing their prices as one! To a modest 30-40% off. (Just don't call it collusion!) Net-A-Porter went 30-50% off yesterday, so that $4,000 dress might now be $2,500, with tax, and Saks is starting its up to 40% off sale Thursday; hold on till after Christmas for steeper cuts. Stores laid in around 20% less stock than last year, in hopes of avoiding last fall's rash of below-cost markdowns. It appears they've been successful. [WWD]
• "Whoever your mom is, people won't give you hundreds of thousands of dollars," says Vladimir Restoin Roitfeld, who was given $50,000 to mount his first art exhibition last February, and whose latest show, of Nicolas Pol's work, drew Jean-Paul Gaultier, Andre Balazs, Daphne Guinness, and, oh yeah, his mother Carine Roitfeld, to its opening. Young Vlad's secret? "We work extremely hard." [Bloomberg]
• For I-D's 30th anniversary spring issue, Nick Knight will photograph 100 portraits of different fashion stars featured in its pages over the years — live, in front of an audience. His studio will be open to the public as an exhibition until December 20, and people will be able to watch shoots with, say, Kate Moss or Naomi Campbell, through a two-way mirror. Or live on the Internet, at Knight's showstudio.com. There's nothing that strikes us as less tedious than watching a month-long editorial fashion shoot, but someone might be into it. [WWD]
• The Telegraph gets to the bottom of the mysteriously straight and non-neurotic fashion designer Giles Deacon. How come he's so successful, anyway? "Don't know. My parents weren't into fashion. I didn't have an eccentric granny who mixed lace mantillas with tweed. I never believe people who say that, anyway. 'Oh, my granny had great style.' I just like doing it and I enjoy working hard. I go to work at 10am and I'm still there at 8.30pm. We get the wine out then, but anyone who is successful and tells you they don't work hard is lying." [Telegraph]
• Olivier Theyskens has a book on the way! Olivier Theyskens: The Other Side Of The Picture is due out from Assouline in February. He also might be involved in a new "retail concept," but neither he nor the company involved would comment. [WWD]
• It's official: Bravo will begin airing the Kelly Cutrone reality television series we've all been waiting for, Kell On Earth, next February. As long as Ms. Cutrone keeps dropping f-bombs on live morning television, an audience for this shit is practically guaranteed. [UPI]
• Peaches Geldof, Photoshopped within an inch of her life, is in a second campaign for the UK underwear brand Ultimo. The dividends of just happening upon that News Of The World photographer starkers continue to accrue. [Telegraph]
• North Korean jeans made by a trio of Swedes who describe making contact with the communist regime as "like Facebook poking a country"? Is this a joke? [FWD]
• Inez and Vinoodh shot the spring Lanvin men's wear ads this weekend in Paris, and rumor is they totally pulled a Juergen and put themselves in the shot. [WWD]

The wind tapped like a tired man,
And like a host, "Come in,"
I boldly answered; entered then
My residence within

A rapid, footless guest,
To offer whom a chair
Were as impossible as hand
A sofa to the air.

No bone had he to bind him,
His speech was like the push
Of numerous humming-birds at once

His countenance a billow,
His fingers, if he pass,
Let go a music, as of tunes
Blown tremulous in glass.

He visited, still flitting;
Then, like a timid man,
Again he tapped—'t was flurriedly—
And I became alone.

(From Nature)

Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That phraseless melody

The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.

When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,

I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
If such an outcast be,
He never heard that fleshless chant
Rise solemn in the tree,

As if some caravan of sound
On deserts, in the sky,
Had broken rank,
Then knit, and passed
In seamless company.

(From Nature)

The wind begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,—
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow;
The lightning showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.

The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky
But overlooked my father's house,
lust quartering a tree.

(The Wind Begun To Rock The Grass)

The daisy follows soft the sun,
And when his golden walk is done,
Sits shyly at his feet.
He, waking, finds the flower near.
"Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?"
"Because, sir, love is sweet!"

We are the flower, Thou the sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline,
We nearer steal to Thee, —
Enamoured of the parting west,
The peace, the flight, the amethyst,
Night's possibility!

(From Time And Eternity)

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