As previously announced, Kate Moss's collection for Topshop is reaching its inevitable end. The range of poorly-finished vintage knock-offs in flimsy fabrics that hits stores in five days will be Moss's last for the U.K. chain. So, how's it look?

Well, it looks partly like Kate wanted an excuse to make a tunic out of a bath mat.


And what Kate Moss for Topshop collection would be complete without a vaguely "ethnic"-looking dress that's short enough to get its wearer arrested in Italy?


Moss and Topshop's design team probably triangulated the trend forecast reports, the runways, and her own oft-imitated, going-to-a-rock-concert-in-1973 style and decided that they were feeling a '70s vibe. And who could blame them? Probably the poor suckers who end up buying this paisley cape.

If you wear this dress, the very existence of which is yet another argument in favor of cultivating a sympathetic dry cleaner, how should you deal with the inevitable fringe-in-your-food issue? That shit is wicking, after all. Do you preemptively scoop all the dangling bits up and hold them out of the way, somehow, before even touching your fork or reaching for that glass of booze? Would it be possible to get a tailor to sew in a discreet piece of velcro, or something? Is there a technological solution that can be applied? Will the dress be sold with some kind of a pro-static spray that will create an ionic bond between the molecules of the strands of fringe and the molecules of the sleeve fabric? Alternatively, do you let it all hang out? If you're eating something really delicious, like a lamb chop with mint sauce, and your sleeve fringe drags through it, are you allowed to suck the sweet gravy juices right off the fringe? Or do you have to leave the table first? These are important questions, Kate Moss, and I am awaiting your urgent response.


If only this feathered stole were available in time for Halloween. It'd be the perfect accent to your Morticia costume. (Or your crow costume.)

Kate Moss For Topshop [Official Site]