In the fall of 2006 my boyfriend bought me a ridiculously chic ski jacket that was a the result of a collaboration between Moncler and Balenciaga. Maybe it was the tear sheet from a magazine with a big Sharpie circle around the jacket posted on the fridge that clued him in, but he surprised me with it on my birthday. Apparently only two were ever made in white – he somehow tracked one down and had it sent from Paris. What can I say – I have a rare man.
In any case, I’ve been obsessed with Moncler ever since that first quilted masterpiece came in contact with my body. Self-titled “the cold-beater par excellence,” Moncler is the Dali of Down, the Seurat of Ski, the Klimpt of Quilt. What they do with the stuff seems to defy the laws of physics. Check out some images from their winter lines for women and children. They have a huge men’s range too but I don’t really care.
With boutiques throughout France and a solitary U.S. outpost in Aspen, it’s virtually impossible to find the collection stateside. Keep your eyes open for the Thom Browne capsule in the pipeine. Go here and drool.
