My first show at London Fashion Week left me stumped for words (no easy feat).
I’ve worked within the confines of the high fashion stratosphere for some time now. I understand trends, colourways and the need for cutting edge designs that negate the utilitarian in favour of something more sartorially groundbreaking.
But, there’s a distinctive line – when the reactionary becomes the focal and sartorial substance there is none.
If you need to provide overt shock value to your audience through naked models, strobe lighting and skimpy unwearable designs – then surely your sartorial talent cannot speak for itself.
Have we become so caught up in reactionary age, that we fail to utilize and celebrate raw talent and artistry? Better to provide shock and scorn that be judged on merit, no? It’s working, me writing about it is testament enough.
It saddens me to say this, but gone are the bygone days of distinctive tailoring (alla Armani, although Stella does a very good impersonation), iconic silhouettes (ahh Dior) and the celebration of the female silhouette (Chanel – even this iconic house are designing clothes to appeal to an androgynous silhouette, which is sadly so fashionable now).
Now the fashion world has been replaced by ridiculous, comical, insulting and ludicrous designs. For example, outside my first show there were three men wearing lego on their face, another ‘influencer’ had her tits out with only nipple tassels for coverage (how did she get in???) and I spotted a woman wearing a puffer with nothing underneath.
Excuse my old-fashioned prudishness, but is this right?
I was the only person not to get ‘papped’ outside by parasitical Daily Mail paparazzi’s. My normal, smart and sleek attire evidently wasn’t worth the notice.
Inside, a naked model paraded down the catwalk embellished with faux tattoos and a sheepskin loincloth for coverage. Models couldn’t walk properly because their latex panties were too tight, and for the grande finale – the designers walked out to take their bow with a veil covering their face. Whatever happened to sheer gratitude? Why does everything, from the clothes to the lighting, even the designers themselves have to garnish a reaction?
I miss the innate decadence of the fashion shows of bygone days. Even the 90s, the heydays of catwalks and models alike, celebrated artistry and unique talent (consider here, Versace).
But, this has all been replaced and thwarted and what we’re left with is this: desperate influencers who parade outside dressed in meagre and frankly insulting attire in the hope of getting ‘papped’, and designers who negate artistry in favour of provocation.
In short: talent is replaced by shock value – how I long for the sartorial days of old.