March 25, 2015 |
If New York was black then London was a rainbow. An exotically hued riot of colour and print. Sort of what you’d imagine the inside of Liz Taylor’s jewellery box to look like. Blinding basically.
JW Anderson was what eighties synth pop dreams are made of. A mash up of what we will refer to as Argos home furnishing fabrics that sounds hideous to the ear when said out loud, but when twisted into New Wave band lady wear oddly works. Works very well in fact.
Patchwork, Patterns and Prints. Which seeing as Burberry was full of patchwork, pattern and print does seem like a rather fitting title. There was an almost hippy vibe here. I say almost. Maybe it was more a sixties finding yourself in in a haze of opium smoke Morocco or India vibe. Or was it simply channelling Joni Mitchell and her ladies of the canyon? Fringing, as well as crochet is very lady of a canyon. Does it actually matter what it was channelling though? Does anyone care? And can we just mention the leaf appliqued suede, thigh high boot.
There was something a little Aaliyah in the trousers at Marques’Almeida. They were worn low and slouchy. Flares came with slits that sort of curved round the leg. The really nice thing about Marques’Almeida is that they’ve found themselves a really strong and identifiable signature in their frayed denim pieces and rather than try and reinvent the wheel every season, they choose to riff on it. So the denim was here. But this time it was mixed with bright, I want to say Sari coloured torn brocades that appeared almost ripped from the body.
Antonio Berardi was inspired this season, well according to the press release, by the lines of Frank Gehry’s work. Which basically translates as curves. Curved lines encasing the body in a sort of fabric cocoon or rich brocades and jewel toned hues, with an origami fold. Cocoon wise, if you were draped in this, you’d never want to emerge and become a butterfly.
We know that Margaret Howell is the queen of tom boy realness, but it’s fair to say, as strange as this might sound that she was a little more masculine than usual. Rich, heavy wools in a palette of charcoal greys and rust were shaped into oversized jackets and slouchy trousers and were broken up with lighter textiles in an array of creams. And did we mention the leather pencil skirt? Margaret does saucy, and she does saucy well.
Never would I have thought that I would use the term flouncy hobble skirt. But then I just have. There were flouncy hobble skirts at Mary Katrantzou. But more than that, there was something that we shall call 3-D embroidery made from a rainbow of plastics, that in some cases, and I know this is the wrong word, but can’t think of the right one, concertina like floors, or hundreds of mini pyramids, and meshed together with shiny brocades and damask. This was, if you were to read the press release, Mary explaining horror vacui, fear of empty spaces, to us.
Topshop Unique may claim, if the show notes are to be believed, to be ode to British country living, and feature country living staples such as cable knits, tweeds, a ruched, strapless party dress and riding boots, and may smack a little of the eighties, but really lets be real here for a second, the eighties it pays tribute to is not country living eighties. It’s Chelsea Girl eighties. As in the shop, not Sloane Rangers. Think of this as one temple of cool paying tribute to another.
For some reason, the girls at Simone Rocha, especially when lined up against the wall are making me think of Russian dolls. Maybe its the the bright red and the print of the tapestry, or the shapes of the clothes, slightly rounded, that sort of look like they’d fit rather nicely inside one another, that lends it a slightly Russian souvenir feel. Not that this was inspired by Russian dolls, rather Louise Bourgeois, who’s family apparently owned a tapestry factory, which would explain the tapestry. And can we just say, hair scarf. Winter is all about wearing your hair as a scarf. Get weave if you need to.
Smoke. There was smoke at Christopher Kane. Not as in a fire, more beams of lit up smoke through which the models walked onto the runway. Which weirdly, for some reason, made me think of Star Trek’s Captain Janeway. Which could be more down to the severity of the suiting in black and alternately trimmed with red or blue velvet, but then lit up smoke seems like a very Captain Janeway/ bitch in charge way to enter a room. And can we take a moment to mention life drawing as dress? Illustrations of nudes were cut out and worked round the body, with, for example, various limbs being morphed into straps for dresses.
Can we must give a quick shout out to Val Garland for the amazing maquillage at Vivienne Westwood Red Label? Maquillage that puts you in mind of Jordan, the infamous World’s End shop assistant, not the glamour model. Maquillage that when combined with Dame Vivienne’s signature forties silhouette, the brings to mind a fierce Joan Crawford, or more Jordan channeling Mommie Dearest. Which when you think about it, really is a look you want to channel.
From left to right: J.W.Anderson, Burberry, Marques Almeida, Antonio Berardi, Margaret Howell, Mary Katrantzou, Topshop Unique, Simone Rocha, Christopher Kane, Vivienne Westwood Red Label.
Photographer: Jason Lloyd-Evans
By Natalie Dembinska
