Susie Lau reports from the front row as London Fashion Week comes to an end, on the event’s new buzzy mood, Christopher Kane’s ‘crash and repair,’ and youthful rebellion.
London Fashion Week was once again too short but brimming with ideas. As the journalists honked their way from one show to the next, it seemed like the schedule was overflowing with more presentations, digital screenings, and industry talks for the public to attend. As a result of this, combined with the new central location in Soho, London Fashion Week felt more in your face than when it was tucked away at Somerset House, with increased public awareness. Whether locals, workers, or passing tourists liked it or not, the buzz created by LFW in Soho was amplified.
True to form
If you sit on your laurels, you will be accused of being boring. You’re inconsistent if you jump from one idea to the next. Fortunately, Christopher Kane, LFW’s golden boy, has struck a balance between retaining his brand’s cornerstones and moving things forward.
Crash and Repair, his most recent collection, was inspired by the brilliant but damaged minds he met in art therapy sessions, as well as outsider artists in general. The neon (although the designer called it acid), fractured lace dresses, and plastic in the form of cable ties used as chokers and fastenings on clothes were all present. Everything felt sharper and perhaps a little unhinged, which is exactly what you want from a Kane collection. It was a startling addition to the extensive back catalogue.
Crash and Repair was inspired by the brilliant but damaged minds he encountered in art therapy sessions
Marques ‘Almeida recently won the prestigious LVMH Prize, and instead of blowing the budget to reflect their newfound celebrity, the duo went back to their humble beginnings, fraying, distressing, and manipulating fabric. Their hacked-up denim was present, but they added a faded glamour with voluminous chiffon and silk ruffles that were roughed up by hand at the edges. Marques ‘Almeida reaffirmed what they’re all about and why their clothes resonate with a coming-of-age generation, inspired by singer-songwriter Fiona Apple as well as Jaz, their eclectically dressed muse. Erdem Moriaglu also knows who his “girl” is. She looks like a prairie pioneer in her high-necked Edwardiana with embroidered florals. When you combine that with the atmosphere of a stormy English period drama – Perhaps Far from the Madding Crowd or Jane Eyre – and you’ve got yourself a scene that fits right into Moriaglu’s penchant for ethereal storytelling. These designers stood out because their signature was confident.
Changing their tune
Changing a signature, on the other hand, can lead to evolution. Peter Pilotto’s prints have always leaned toward the graphic, the bold, and the bizarre. They avoided prints for spring/summer and instead smocked, embroidered, and adorned their dresses and blouses with frills galore. That wasn’t meant to be saccharine. The smocking was anything but traditional, with bright neon hues and sharp patterns rendered in the stitches. The label’s move away from print has been building for some time, and this season they found their stride by experimenting with new techniques.
Burberry also took a unique approach, both in terms of show format and aesthetic. Instead of a light-hearted indie band, Christopher Bailey had ’80s singer Alison Moyet perform her greatest hits to a rapt audience. The clothing also took on a more utilitarian tone, with nylon backpacks and anoraks worn over flimsy slip dresses, a la Glastonbury. The story here, however, was not the seasonal shifts, but the launch of Burberry’s channel on Apple’s new music-streaming service. We left with melodies in our heads. Changing a signature, on the other hand, has the potential to lead to evolution. Peter Pilotto’s prints have always been graphic, bold, and out of the ordinary. For spring/summer, they avoided prints and instead smocked, embroidered, and adorned their dresses and blouses with frills galore. That wasn’t meant to be sweet. With bright neon hues and sharp patterns rendered in the stitches, the smocking was anything but traditional. The label’s shift away from print has been building for some time, and they hit their stride this season by experimenting with new techniques.
Burberry, too, took an unconventional approach, both in terms of show format and aesthetic. Instead of a cheerful indie band,
The Kids are alright
The ‘kids’ of fashion week often draw the largest crowds, and a diverse crowd gathered to support former Fashion East alumni Ashley Williams, Claire Barrow, and Ryan Lo. Williams had mardy girls stomping around in bodies plastered with slogans like ‘I’m in a bad mood.’ They also wore racy fishnets, neon-pink clogs, and red patent trenches with their diamanté-encrusted bias-cut gowns. Williams’ work has always been fun and funky (or, in her own words, “funky offish”), but with an angrier collection, the rebellious spirit of London thrived.
Claire Barrow’s performance was moving, with street-cast models playing instruments against a backdrop of dissonant synths to represent a fight back against modern technology. Barrow’s idiosyncratic illustrated garments have always been a reflection of society, but her voice was amplified here as she presented a tableau of poetic protest. Ryan Lo closed out LFW with an unapologetically fun display of hyper-kawaii femininity. His models wore frill-fronted knee-high socks, a brocade princess coat, and knitted swiss-dot ruffled dresses with challah-bread loops. What Lo does is unapologetically kitsch and cutesy, and on the final day of LFW, when younger designers get to shine, it felt like the right note to end on.
