Party Flaneur. Dior SS27

There’s a sense of undone-ness to Jonathan Anderson’s menswear method for Dior that I really like, even if it occasionally makes his vision for the house seem a little erratic. The image of an aristocratic kid in a pyjama suit and torn denim, stumbling back to his inherited château after a long, very fun night, ripping the wire out of a speaker and plugging his phone into it (very Rianne Van Rompaey opening the Louis Vuitton show in Palm Springs… a niche reference, I know) just to keep the party going, is strangely appealing. READ MY FULL REVIEW HERE.

Collage by Edward Kanarecki.
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Skinny. Prada SS27

Prada’s latest collection left me feeling a bit unnerved. It wasn’t that Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons’s offering was “bad” – honestly, can they ever get it wrong? – but the collection’s near-fixation on extreme skinniness felt genuinely discomforting. I’m an XL; I’m never, ever fitting into those cropped denim jackets or hyper-slim trousers. But this isn’t about me – it’s about the message the collection sends. If you don’t possess the frame of an adolescent, forget about being invited to this party.

While I can perhaps forgive the romanticization – and even the fetishization – of youth in, say, Hedi Slimane’s work, I hold Prada to a higher standard. Prada is so much more than that. Where is the nuance? READ MY FULL REVIEW HERE.

Collage by Edward Kanarecki.
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Artifice. Saint Laurent SS27

Anthony Vaccarello’s Saint Laurent menswear collection seemed to have it all: a perfectly orchestrated front row amid a Paris heatwave, a new kinky shoe with an elongated toe and transparent construction, and a Fujiko Nakaya water-vapor installation as the show’s backdrop. Yet the clothes themselves felt inflated – not with substance, but with artifice.

It increasingly feels as though Vaccarello is repeating the same tropes: exaggerated shoulders on virtually everything, nylon-like windbreakers paired with tailored trousers, and trench coats rendered stuffy for no discernible reason. The flashes of eroticism are there, certainly, but they can’t speak for themselves; they get choked – though not in a sexy way – by relentless overediting.

I remember reading a few years ago that Vaccarello fantasized about doing an all-gold collection but couldn’t find a way to make it look chic. Well, he still hasn’t. The three final looks in slightly antiqued gold fabric failed to make much of an impact. Perhaps too much gold is inevitably tacky after all.

Collage by Edward Kanarecki.
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