Bridget Foley’s Diary: Zac Posen — To Every Spring There Is a Season

The model’s body language is gloriously seductive as she works a major-glamour gown that draws imprecise lines to both Swan-generation elegance and Eighties glitz. Her carriage has the gazelle-like grace of forebears who once populated the cabines of Halston and Yves Saint Laurent. But her hair, worked into intricate Fulani braids, and her complexion, unique among the known stars of her profession, radiate 21st–century distinction. The model has just descended a stairway that leads to the photo studio’s main set, a vast white drum of a space with a huge sliding door now open, ready for her entrance. But the would-be haute aura of the moment never materializes thanks to Booby, the dog someone has brought to work for the day. He follows the model down the stairs, and before you can say “breathtaking,” she bends down to give him a “good dog” treat, and then goes full-on prone on the floor, leaning and contorting in serpentine correspondence with the happy pooch. The scene speaks volumes about the girl, Winnie Harlow; the dress, a sculpted column in flocked glitter tulle over russet duchesse, and, perhaps most significantly, the designer, the unflappable Zac Posen. If his stomach churns at the sight of Winnie

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