I guess it won’t come as any surprise that Marc Jacobs’ Spring 2014 reveal turned out to be the hottest show of the week…but literally? With a bona fide 100° setting on the thermostat as part of the “experience,” and fans pumping hot air (with all their might) throughout the armory, PR assistants passed out fans and received the brunt of our complaints. By the time the show started, I was delirious. So I guess it’s no surprise I experienced hallucinogenic delusions of 19th century coal miners’ daughters make-shifting their grannys’ couture finery passing me by on the runway. When everyone else is going for sweet romance and floaty feminine fabrics galore for the new season, leave it to maverick Marc to announce with a sweet smirk, “What the hell are you doing?!” And then make a dark beach party, circa 1892, come to fruition. Sure, one could say he’s doing it just because he can. The choppy pageboy haircuts (not entirely unlike the one I gave my son when he was five) and mind blowing set left me feeling like I was deep underground. But once again, Marc won me over as he always does, theatrics aside. Not by the ridiculously “functional” sandals but by the sheer-paneled sleeves, for a deliberately awkward take on sensuality. And the shoulder-emphasizing band jackets, which I instantly coveted as well as the fringed sweatshirts and glistening, watery sequined lace dresses. Body consciousness? Who needs it! Brand-new or Victorian-age, he proves it’s all the same, and it all can be modern depending on your insightful interpretation. That’s what makes Marc Jacobs the best showman in the business. Done. Eat his Astroturf.