GET THE LOOK:
SAINT LAURENT EYEWEAR Howl D-frame Acetate Sunglasses
HIGH SPORT Alex Striped Cotton Top
SASUPHI Adriana Satin-trimmed Silk-blend Straight-leg Pants
Jonathan Anderson transformed Loewe into a fertile ground for experimentation, yet the results – even at their most conceptual and surreal – retained a warmth reminiscent of the Balearic sun. Lazaro Hernandez and Jack McCollough continue this experimental tradition, but their work comes across as awkwardly distant and cold. Their sophomore collection showcases an array of the brand’s technical possibilities – zip-front latex coats resembling Play-Doh toys, bell-shaped silhouettes rendered in shaved and dyed brushed shearling – yet, despite these inventive constructions, there is a noticeable absence of wit and lightness in the voluminous, built-up forms. The eveningwear, too, feels overworked, burdened by unnecessary folds and wraps. The former-Proenza duo would benefit from rediscovering a sense of sensuality – and a more vibrant, actually playful spirit – in their Loewe. I’d argue that nobody wants to look like a serious alien.
Collage by Edward Kanarecki.
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At Schiaparelli, Daniel Roseberry has definitively abandoned the ornamental eyes, noses, and mouths, turning instead toward a more profound interpretation of the body. This season, he does so with finesse, envisioning a woman akin to a sphinx – not entirely human, closer to a deity; familiar, yet mysterious. The sphinx concept comes into focus in a phenomenal skirt suit made from wadding-stuffed hosiery – it appeared as though fashioned from a human corpse, yet remained oddly chic. A sense of delightful strangeness continues in another skirt that extends into a tail with the help of a wired hem, accompanied by hirsute fur prints and painted crocodile scales. Then there are the more conservative-looking, yet equally striking, liquid-gold draped pieces with Mariano Fortuny-esque pleating. Roseberry is finally finding his method for Schiaparelli ready-to-wear.
Collage by Edward Kanarecki.
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It seems to me that Nicolas Ghesquière has rediscovered a sense of joy in making fashion. That wasn’t always so evident in his 1980s-heavy collections, but his latest Louis Vuitton outing feels like the work of an open mind. It brings together three distinct “energies,” vividly clashing yet glued by a kind of transcendental, almost shroom-like aura.
First, there is a collage-like engagement with global cultures. Cultural appropriation is one thing, but in the past decade, a growing fear of being called out – or cancelled – for drawing on other traditions has made fashion increasingly cautious about referencing the world’s diverse beauty. So it feels refreshing to see Ghesquière approach Turkish kepeneks, Mongolian steppe deels, and Nepalese topi hats with such confidence, but also with respect. He manages to celebrate these traditions by sublimating their magnificence, never reducing them to caricature.
The second “energy” sees Nicolas returning to his Balenciaga years – autumn/winter 2002, to be precise – reviving a sense of generous, bounty fluidity in his dresses. Those sent down the Louis Vuitton runway feel effortless, and cool. Words that didn’t always roll off the tongue when considering his recent collections.
And the third? For the first time in over a decade at the house, Ghesquière seems to subtly nod to Marc Jacobs – not in any literal sense, but in his attitude toward fashion. There’s wit, a sense of play, a tongue-in-cheek irreverence. A cone-shaped hat paired with a voluminous bomber jacket and cropped trousers, or a fabulously cluttered blazer with boxy shoulders, recalls Jacobs’s years at Vuitton, when each show existed as a self-contained fantasy.
That newly found, almost defiant I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-anyone-thinks spirit suits Ghesquière well. It might also explain why the collection didn’t resonate with everyone. After all, people tend to resent it when someone is having just a little too much fun. Human nature!
Collage by Edward Kanarecki.
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