Rick day in Paris is a bit like going to Sunday service. The city’s weirdest and most wonderful creatures congregate at Palais de Tokyo, otherworldly in their Rick-ness, as they wait to be blessed by the high priest of gothic glamour. Posh and Becks wanted in on the action this time around, joining Usher and J Balvin in the pool of famous faces perched on metal scaffolding that made up the show’s set. As other designers have spoken of stripping things back this season, Owens’ own translation was “reduced architectural shapes with a whiff of sleazy seventies pseudo-mysticism”. He had been thinking of his winters spent in Egypt, and Cecile B. Demille’s The Ten Commandments, “which I watch nightly while working out with Brutalismus 3000 pumping through my earphones”, wrote the designer.
Present was a collision of long-lined silhouettes with moments of grand, twisted fantasy. Shaggy, cowhide jackets with strong, curling shoulders walked alongside pirarucu fish skin bombers and hulking, puffer concoctions that bulged from the body. A plum-hued opera coat that cocooned around the wearer proved a highlight. As did the parade of wide-legged trousers and shredded jeans, worn with the designer’s signature Kiss boots. The push and pull tension between swollen outerwear and clothes that clung to the body – from pencil skirts to moleskin jumpsuits – enticed a more sensual side to Owens’ signatures. The prince of darkness strikes again.
Photography courtesy of Rick Owens.
