August 12, 2016 |
In the world I inhabit in my head, Raf Simons, despite what he may say about being inspired by baby boys, is the future of space-travel chic. I can imagine him sitting in a studio somewhere, probably in Antwerp, seeing as he lives in Antwerp, and affixed to the mood board behind him is a picture of Judy Jetson, the girl who showed a generation of children what it meant to be cool. To be cool in the future. For back then, The Jetsons is how people imagined the future would look: flying cars and flying-saucer-shaped homes balanced atop giant sticks. Imagine how people imagined the future would look back in the 1960s. Sadly the future, ie now, brought none of these things to life. Apart from a very few, people still live in houses built on the ground. Though while flying cars are also rather nonexistent, we are on the verge of space tourism. Soon, people will be flying to somewhere in space. Floating in the atmosphere. A sort of plane travel for space travel. And all travel involves a stewardess of some sort. A space steward. Like those in Almodovar’s I’m So Excited!, but better dressed. For in my head they will be dressed in Raf Simons, for those are the clothes of the future seen through the prism of the past. Judy Jetson for boys crossed with a sort of PE tunic. A tennis dress. With a baggy short peeking out from below the hem. Something about the length says tennis dress. Whereas the thick collars and three large round buttons are saying 1960s. The bright slogans, mashed up and printed across separates, also scream 1960s and future. An optimistic future where anything can happen and things will only get better. For the 1960s were the decade of promise and when man walked on the moon. There was change and it was fast paced. So, really, if you’re gonna have a uniform for the first commercial space launch, who better to do it than Raf? I imagine it as a sort of very chic nod to the age of air travel. After all, when flying became commercial, everyone wanted to be a stewardess because you got to travel the world. And the uniforms were rather fabulous. You met people on planes, international businessmen, and you married them. So why shouldn’t this new age of commercial space travel be the same? But instead of seeing the world, you see the galaxy. Imagine reclining in your chair when an inflight announcement tells you can now remove your helmet. Suddenly, a rather chic steward comes round, wearing Raf’s latest and finest. You can’t help but steal a fondle of his sleeve as he passes you your drink. It really is very well made, you say as you indulge in some light flirting. Nothing too heavy. Just enough to pique his interest and get him to the men’s toilets, where you’ll hit him over the head with something heavy and steal the Raf off his back. You always did want to be a space steward.
Taken from Issue 36 of 10 Men Magazine, photographer Jason Lloyd-Evans
