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MEN’S WEEK Spring 2017 A.P.C. Vouge.com Given his track record of enlivening A.P.C. presentations with culturally and politically charged spiel, Jean Touitou was bound to have an opinion on Brexit. Simply put, he expressed no surprise. “We are entering a new loop in history, which is totally reactionary,” he said, hypothesizing that the U.S., , and might face similar fates. Was he concerned? “Oh yes, but I’ve been terrified from a long time ago, back when I was this age,” he replied, pointing to his T- printed with a photo of a foxy Jean Touitou, aged 15. The two Touitous—then and now—provided an entry point into this collection, which will arrive in stores just as the brand enters into its 30th year. Its founder, meanwhile, recently reached the legal age of retirement in France. Leaving aside sentimentality, the milestones marked an opportunity to pay respect to the brand’s DNA, which, Touitou rightly noted, has gotten better with age (more resources, more research). For example: Dungarees and a ribbed pullover were uniquely bleached and overprinted, respectively, to achieve an authentically lived-in look before ever being worn. Roomy , ordinarily a tough sell, were justifiable when paired with a deep indigo, contrast-stitched postman’s . Amid the continued trend toward graphic streetwear, a crisp mac over a shirt patterned in stylized propellers (care of graphic artist Pierre Marie) and a cable-knit tucked into high- made a compelling case against cool. The streamlined designs from Louis Wong, a member of the design team whose label, Louis W., exists under the A.P.C. (see the looks photographed against a white sheet), benefited from an updated spin on old-school hip-hop—specifically, an army and drawstring pant in that could be mistaken for a leather tracksuit. On the subject of leather, guests could be heard posing, “What does it mean?” in reference to Brexit implications, while Touitou was showing this journalist a molded pochette known as a porte valeur—its literal meaning, an “asset holder” that can be worn around the neck. Without any grandstanding gesture, Touitou acknowledged the irony with amusement. “Before I would talk of anything, but not of fashion. Now it’s the editors who are shocked by the situation and don’t want to talk about fashion.” The times they are a-changin’. WWD

The Nineties skateboard culture A.P.C. founder Jean Touitou referenced in relation to the label’s spring collection for men was less than obvious, but what the collection did offer was a charming proposition of relaxed shapes and washed-out colors that verged on dusty pastels, giving them masculine appeal.

Less preppy than the label’s recent collections, the collection focused heavily on baggy in a range of washed-out denim or railway-striped . These were paired with loose ribbed printed tone on tone so they looked to be bleached by the sun and wide shirt-style with a workwear feel. There were still elements of the almost gauche rigidity that has become part of the brand’s geek-chic signature, nevertheless, as in a pair of midlength waterproof fabric or a Prince of Wales . Business of Fashion

At A.P.C., Jean Touitou continues morphing and expanding the repertoire of his forte — clean, pragmatic dressing. This season he moved away from French chic to cater to urban vibes with workwear nods. It translated into a modular of glorified post-basics in singular colours that looked fresh and tempting. Personal Review

This was a very wearable collection. The clothing looked nice, but the colors and styles were boring. This was not an overly exciting season for A.P.C., but the clothes still looked pretty. These pieces would be great for layering with other clothes. ACNE STUDIOS Vogue.com

Jonny Johansson, creative director of Acne, masterminded a strange and interesting game of musical chairs in the romantically ravaged interior of the Lycée Charlemagne. Every 60 seconds or so, the PA would stop pumping and his models would get up and pull their metal-legged chairs here and there across the floor before sitting down again once the tunes resumed. At first sight they appeared to be wearing tents, or at least something tentatively tent-ish of aspect, and that proved to be the case. Said Johansson: “It’s very simple. It’s about the emptiness of the Swedish summer . . . I think it’s quite romantic in a way. I wanted to have romance in a show but without the regular runway thing.”

We walked down the hall between them, adjusting conversational volume in sync with the DJ, as Johansson delivered an exegesis of the huge A-line that were the defining garment of the collection. “They are inspired by tents, old-fashioned tents,” he said. The silver eyelets pressed in at the of the spine were peg-ready, and the variously laminated, plasticized and bonded fabrics sometimes had the realistic look and feel of well-used tarp. Others were shiny and came in shirting stripes. They flared out widely from the body, tentlike, of course, with particular volume at the back. Completing the campsite capsule was a selection of that ran from coated Chelsea to surf booties to rubberized Mary Janes. Zip-away techno pants and shorts in plain color provided cover. Vests and tops in tablecloth checks and stringy bouclé, plus woven and tees (with matching shorts) in a neutral wheaty tone delivered texture. One especially striking knitted vest came with hand-painted flecks of green and orange fluoro, which competed winningly with the oaty texture of the . Nostalgic, avant-garde, and Swedish, this was Acne all over. WWD “It never rains in California,” went the Seventies ditty. Unfortunately, cold rain does fall in Sweden, often in summertime, which is why Jonny Johansson made waterproof jackets the centerpiece of his spring collection for Acne Studios. Big and tentlike, the had an A-line shape accentuated by sturdy fabrics and side zips from the armpit on down. Big collars heightened their ungainliness. Johansson, who has a cottage previously owned by Ingmar Bergman on Torö, an island in the Stockholm archipelago, also used glazed patterns ripped from outdoor tablecloths for boxy blousons. Standout items included jersey pants with white side zips, loosely knit sweaters with rag- rug airs and loose cotton shorts. This was a crisp and charming offering and Johansson acknowledged the collection’s nostalgic heart. Business of Fashion Never underestimate the clarity and power of a single idea in our age of chaotic . That's what Jonny Johanson did at Acne Studios. His focus this season? Swedish summer — read rainy and damp — and tents. The brief translated into a compact offer of a-line , A-line-to-the-knee anoraks and stripy blousons in coated, treated, laminated fabrications, invariably worn with shorts. The result was convincing, not least because it was devoid of the fuss and the bizarre diversions that has given Acne menswear such an odd vibe in the past. Personal Review

Jonny Johansson was inspired by the rainy Swedish summers when creating the Spring 2017 Menswear Acne Studios collection. The waterproof jackets are very large, boxy, and tent-like. Since the coats look like large , the look book reminded me of a very fashionable barber shop. To me, the models look like they are sitting around, waiting to get their haircut. ALEXANDER MCQUEEN Vogue.com With creative director Sarah Burton still away on maternity leave after the birth of her third child, the Alexander McQueen label stepped back from the runway to present its latest menswear collection via a series of intimate appointments and a sequence of atmospheric images photographed by Julia Hetta. “You wouldn’t get them from a show,” said Harley Hughes, McQueen’s head of menswear design, of Hetta’s painterly images. You also wouldn’t get that level of interaction, with the designers nor with the clothes themselves. It made a pertinent argument for alternatives to catwalk showcases—one that timely, given the current fusing of men’s and women’s runway presentations from many of the brand’s contemporaries (FYI—McQueen reps say the label will be back showing for Fall 2017). And McQueen’s menswear bears closer scrutiny, as inspection often surrenders hidden details that the runway can swamp. In this collection, those details included the intentional curling edge of the gold embroideries embellishing sweaters and jackets, inspired by the notion of archive clothes crumpled and distressed with age, a revival of old wardrobe favorites. There was a sense of familiarity about this collection—for one thing, it continued in the same vein as McQueen’s Fall menswear offering, swinging from street to ceremony and offering sharp tailoring for day and plenty of exuberantly decorated eveningwear, teamed with white for a contemporary feel. Apparently, alongside the decorated pieces, McQueen’s kicks are the first thing to sell out when they hit stores. But it also referenced a rich seam of classic English tailoring, of braid-bedecked military suiting and frogged officer’s mess that is so important to the 21st- century survival of Savile Row, where a young Lee McQueen first learned his trade. Hughes elaborated on a story line: “A ’60s guy, in , going off traveling and immersing himself in imperial India,” he said. So the were sharply cut, in crunchy with a hint of Mr. Fish, the choice psychedelic ’60s -maker, alongside flamboyant embroidered coats, ruffled shifts, and dandyish roll-necks based on vintage Turnbull & Asser styles. Both they and Mr. Fish—for all his peculiarity—were British through and through, much like McQueen itself. Indeed, despite the roaming of influence, the results come right back to London. The Raj may have influenced a maharani’s ransom of paste jewels, for instance, but they wound up hung off variations on last season’s wince-worthy facial jewelry—clip-on, rather than actually piercing the cheeks of the models, but nevertheless distinctly punk in feel. Even when crushed turned a rich turmeric, Hughes couldn’t help but remark they’d strayed into “Keith Richards territory.” Hetta’s handsome lookbook images themselves, meanwhile, express the sweltering, sun-bleached feel of an air-con- free Mumbai 50-odd years ago, shimmering with a mirage-like haze. It was, ironically, shot around the corner from the McQueen HQ in a glass box in London’s Clerkenwell, taking advantage of the city’s unseasonably clement June weather to stand in for the subcontinent. You’d never get that in a runway show, indeed. WWD

The brand hit the hippie trail this season with a mix of slim, Sixties-inspired tailoring and looser silhouettes inspired by intrepid travelers and India’s glamorous maharajas. The brand didn’t stage a show or presentation this season as its creative director Sarah Burton is on maternity leave, but that did not diminish the impact of this dreamy, romantic collection.

Silhouettes ranged from the fitted — as in eight-button, double-breasted Savile Row suits with thick stripes — to the roomier and more exotic. The latter included a striped silk djellaba, coats covered in a sun-bleached black-and-white leopard print, and a jacket with a high , and raw- edged embroidery. A heavy, navy blue cotton coat with military-style frogging down the front had a similar Sgt. Pepper spirit.

There was rich embellishment and pattern everywhere, from the tea-stained picture postcard and wild animal print splashed across short-sleeved shirts and a silk trench; to dark paisley suits shot through with threads; to matte metallic embroidery on dinner jackets, and metal and sequin sparkles on long coats.

A misty landscape print with hummingbirds spread across tailored clothing, while golden embroidered sunflowers blossomed on velvet , an olive twill trench and the patch pockets of a short jacket. At times, the petals looked as if they were in decay, and peeling off the fabric — a signature decadent McQueen touch. The Fashionisto Opting out of London Collections: Men, Alexander McQueen unveiled its spring- summer 2016 men’s collection with a look book. Photographed by Julia Hetta, the nuances of this season’s theme make a strong impression. Alexander McQueen head of menswear design Harley Hughes hones in on Indian culture for inspiration Revisiting 1960s style, the McQueen man is transported from London to Mumbai. The British fashion house’s tailored heritage is reinterpreted with rich embellishments and elongated silhouettes that look to the East for structure. Decorating double-breasted jackets, long coats and two-button suits with metallic , paisley and splashes of color, Alexander McQueen delivers an exquisite spring outing. Personal Review

This collection was heavily influenced by the East. The images of the Alexander McQueen look book reminded me of pictures in a museum. I loved the 1960’s inspired feel of the suits. The garments were so intricately made. The embroidery and embellishments looked impeccable. Vogue.com

Demna Gvasalia has spent much time poring through the Balenciaga archives since he joined the house last October. Under his direction, the Pre-Fall lookbook was apparently shot there, while his first womenswear collection reinterpreted the attitudes found in Cristóbal Balenciaga’s for everyday clothes of today. While pawing through the shrouded racks of , cocoon-backs, and three-quarter for her, Gvasalia found a coat. It was Cristóbal’s own, made by his own hands. He never finished it. So his latest heir decided it was his job to complete it—and it opened this show.

That coat was not only the basis for the tailoring of the unfitted jackets that made up half of this show; it was also a fitting metaphor for its entirety. No pun on fitting, although fit was what the collection was all about. In every breast pocket sat a small piece of card you’d be forgiven for thinking was a pocket square. Gvasalia asserted they were the fitting cards used to record the measurements of clients in tailoring. That’s the closest menswear ever gets to haute couture, and Gvasalia chose to use it as his jumping-off point for this, the house of Balenciaga’s first-ever men’s runway show.

What Gvasalia tailored, forcefully, was a pair of silhouettes, either expanded to gargantuan, David Byrne’s Talking Heads proportions, or shrunken so close to the body that each jacket rever appeared to cross under the arm. were voluminous and necessarily cinched with belts, or tourniquet-tight. Essentially, nothing looked like it fit in the true sense of the word, which was absolutely intentional.

Like Cristóbal himself, Gvasalia is fascinated with the architecture of clothes. His garments this season were all about shoulders—either expanded a foot sideways to dwarf the models’ own or tugged so tight the swell of the human shoulder distorted the head. Hench versus wench. If the henchmen had the most immediate impact, pairs of models shoulder-barging each other as their American football–size pads clashed like Claude Montana models of old, the latter was quietly ingenious. Look at the back of any of those bandage-tight Balenciaga coats and they’re perfectly fitted to the body, a tailoring master class. “I wanted to push it,” said Gvasalia.

He certainly did. It wasn’t just the extremity of the garments, but the entire proposition of a highly fashioned, emphatically different silhouette for menswear and tailoring, to . In a few short minutes, Gvasalia managed to elucidate an erstwhile elusive men’s identity for the house. Granted, all those coats were unusual to see for an ostensibly Spring show—especially as Gvasalia returned to traditional tailoring techniques of canvased interlinings. It gave the collection a weight—not only intellectual, but physical. He felt it was important to lend the fabrics a new hand. “I wanted a feel of formality, of perfection, to everything,” he said. Hence, the sharp shoulder was translated into a casual wardrobe, jutting out of Harrington and MA-1 bomber jackets. They looked fantastic.

That formality, naturally, brings you to ceremony. Instead of the closing bride of haute couture tradition, Balenciaga got the Pope—or, at least, some that are close to him. The richly figured ecclesiastical , in Velázquez’s Inquisition shades of liturgical red and purple, came from a supplier to the Holy See; a few Vatican peeped from under coats, reminiscent of confirmation . Gvasalia said religion wasn’t the intended reference, but for a Balenciaga- phile like him (or me), it’s inevitable to connect that to Cristóbal’s devout Catholicism. He left his atelier each day only to pray, in a church on the Avenue George V; the atelier itself was deemed a “chapel” by ; and Balenciaga clients were devoted defenders of the faith. Catholicism, Velázquez. All roads lead back to Cristóbal.

Would Cristóbal Balenciaga understand what has become of the house he founded in 1919? Probably not—but it’s likely he wouldn’t understand what’s become of the contemporary fashion world, full stop. Fashion shows for men? Who could have imagined that? What he would appreciate is Gvasalia’s interest in construction, in fashioning something new, different, and exciting. The notion of pushing boundaries, of relentless invention. And in Gvasalia’s absolute, bloody- minded conviction in what he’s doing, even when that stands resolutely outside of the fashion of his time.

That’s enough about the ghost of Cristóbal, though. At the finale, the original archive coat that Gvasalia had finished was the only look that didn’t reemerge. The implication? That Balenciaga had moved on to something new. This may have been a debut, but in its assurance, it felt like anything but. WWD

What could a camera drone buzzing high above the caged rooftop of a Jesuit school in capture of Demna Gvasalia’s debut men’s collection for Balenciaga — and the brand’s first men’s runway outing in its 99-year history?

Plenty. For even high in the sky one could have perceived something radically new finally stirring up a relatively ho- hum men’s season in Europe.

Not since Hedi Slimane’s emaciated rockers stormed down the runway some 15 years ago has anyone at a major house paraded a silhouette this severe — coats and suits with shoulders as wide as a fridge, immediately followed by the opposite: suffocating, shrunken styles on models with -board physiques, most of them cast on Instagram.

Time will tell if the David Byrne look makes any sense to young generations weaned on droopy jeans and sloppy — and even Wall Street types now allowed to dress casually. To be sure, Gvasalia’s commitment to tailoring — and extreme versions of it — puts the heritage brand back in a couture context, and won’t blur with Gvasalia’s streetwear-driven Vetements project.

While challenging, his Balenciaga clothes had such conviction behind them — and a peerless execution — that they commanded attention, and are bound to be influential. Those boxy coats had a handsome swing at the back, and the sweep of the shoulders broadcast authority and cool.

The swaddling coats and jackets were less convincing. More effective in the bodycon vein were high-waist, stovepipe pants and crisp shirts, cropped and ending with the elastic bottom of a .

While the show had solemn airs, there were hints of irony and humor, like the Balenciaga business cards tucked into pockets in lieu of handkerchiefs. Big blue leather weekenders seemed modeled after Ikea’s Frakta carrier bags.

The show climaxed with square tuxedos and fancy jacquard vests and with ecclesiastical airs. Amen for something new in the black-tie department, too. Business of Fashion

Delving into the Balenciaga archives, Demna Gvasalia came across a man's coat missing one sleeve. Apparently it was intended for Cristobal himself but he'd never got round to that last detail. Sleeves were always his bete noire. "We needed to finish the coat," said Gvasalia. The symbolism was inescapable.

His respect for Cristobal Balenciaga, to many minds the greatest fashion designer of all time, is one reason why Gvasalia’s appointment at the house (this was his first men’s outing and, in fact, Balenciaga's first-ever men’s show) is so promising. The women’s show in March was a great start, but it was able to trade off an awe-inspiring legacy. Balenciaga’s presence on the men’s stage is a lot more Johnny-come-lately, a kind of bolt-on to the Ghesquiere years. So it was a bold move on Gvasalia’s part to project what he imagined the male equivalent of Balenciaga’s original haute couture would be. It exists already, in men’s bespoke tailoring, but that wasn’t precisely what Gvasalia had in mind.

That much was obvious from the first look, Cristobal’s own coat, now finished. David Byrne’s famous “big suit” from the Talking Heads live movie Stop Making Sense inevitably came to mind in the huge, flat shape and size of the jacket. Underneath, there were bermudas, so fitted there was a thigh gap, the physical curiosity that has often been used as a stick to beat the fashion industry over anorexic females models. Those two pieces defined the ebb and flow of the rest of the show: challengingly wide, provocatively narrow, both shown with theatrical that created its own peculiar subtext.

It was a bold move on Gvasalia’s part to project what he imagined the male equivalent of Balenciaga’s original haute couture would be.

Neither option was particularly kind to the average male form, except, significantly, when Gvasalia edited the broad- shouldered silhouette into a military bomber or an MA-1 jacket. Claude Montana defined the 1980s with this linebacker shape. It has, until now, resisted reanimation (though Simon Jacquemus, sitting in the front row, might have something to say about that). Fact remains, Gvesalia kicked it into touch today with those sportier looks. They saved him in the moment.

Otherwise, his fascination with the rituals of couture (or bespoke, for that matter) was more interesting conceptually than in the execution. Looking for ceremonial fabrics, he ended up with the Vatican’s suppliers who produced silk in papal purple and cardinal red for him. Balenciaga himself was devotedly Catholic, praying a couple of times a day in a chapel local to his couture house, always seeking spiritual transcendence in his search for that pesky perfect sleeve. Gvasalia insisted the Catholic connection was entirely coincidental. But he chose to show his first men’s collection for Balenciaga on the rooftop of the most famous Catholic school in Paris. And God smiled. After weeks of cold and wet, the sun blazed down.

The incongruity of papal purple brocades in bright, broad daylight seemed like the consummate Gvasalia touch. "Things happen for me," he said with a satisfied . Personal Review

This collection was characterized by boxy, oversized clothing. This line reminded me of young schoolboys, trying to wear their father’s coats. I thought the collection was interesting. I don’t think it is a very wearable collection, but I think it will inspire more wearable lines. The tailoring of the jackets was perfect. BALLY Vogue.com If an Argentinian fashion designer living in London by way of Paris were confronted with the puzzling task of reviving a lethargic Swiss heritage leather brand, it would most likely unleash a culture clash of epic proportions. That’s what more or less happened when Pablo Coppola was appointed as Bally’s creative director in 2014. Yet the irrepressible energy that the ebullient designer has been able to inject into the proper, restrained, quietly elegant label has proved to be as revitalizing as the youth serums administered to aging beauties in hyper-expensive clinics secluded in the Swiss . The men’s Spring collection, presented together with the women’s Resort line, was proof that Coppola’s joyful South American spirit has so far worked wonders; it translated into a hyper-colorful, slightly madcap lineup that brimmed with a sense of humor. “Opposites attract! It’s a magpie kind of look,” said the designer. To prove his point, he started to enumerate at full throttle a totally bonkers list of references so diverse that it seemed to make absolutely no sense at all: “Bianca Jagger in the ’70s; the Japanese playboy and race driver Tetsu Ikuzawa; Karlheinz Weinberger’s photos of ’60s rebellious gangs from Zurich (Yes! Swiss rebels! They actually existed!); David Hicks’s bold colors for Japanese kimonos; David Hockney and Daidō Moriyama’s graphic works; vintage Ballys posters; Swiss folklore and edelweiss embroidered on Western shirts; Kurt Cobain stylish grunge; Jackie Brown and her pimp-ish gangsta look; the MTV Generation . . .” He could’ve gone on forever, so I begged for mercy. Yet, as if by magic, all this riotous cacophony suddenly gelled in a quite delightful lineup, perfectly balanced in its apparent stylistic madness. It all came down to a wardrobe of simple, well-tailored, wearable pieces in luxury fabrics, easily mixed and matched, with plenty of desirable accessories, fired up with clashing colors and cool details, topped with a modern quirkier-than-quirk attitude. The same mood was applied equally to both lines; stylewise, menswear and womenswear looked well matched, with the same youthful, irreverent, geeky-chic attitude. Certainly, all the magpie extravagance paid a not-so-subtle homage to -esque flair, but hey! Let the Swiss have a taste of a joyful, irresistible South American creative boldness: It won’t hurt at all, especially at retail. WWD

Brighter-than-bright, this collection came in a rainbow of citrus hues inspired by David Hicks interiors, Sixties Mods, and the Bally archives themselves. “I never think archives should be sacrosanct – it’s good to look at them, and then play around with them,” said designer Pablo Coppola, who also looked to Seventies sportsmen and Studio 54.

Among the more subdued looks was a fire-engine red and silk suit with wide-leg trousers, a lineup of nubby cotton turtlenecks with thick, faded stripes in orange or red, and an 8-ply cashmere v-neck embroidered with edelweiss, a nod to the company’s Swiss pedigree. The flower also also appeared on white leather sneakers, and as one of many patterns for a cool line of lightweight backpacks for spring.

The collection took a psychedelic turn with hot pink and orange ribbed knits, an emerald and yellow geometric patterned kimono, and a bright azure leather motorcycle jacket. A magenta short-sleeved top shot through with shiny yarn completed the eye-popping lineup. It was a beautiful, gutsy outing – although only for the boldest of Bally customers. Footwearnews.com

Bally’s creative director Pablo Coppola had a wide range of quirky inspirations for spring ’17. Among them: Kurt Cobain, David Hicks, vintage western shirts, the film ‘Teen Wolf.’ The common denominator here seemed to be a willingness for color and splashiness: red baseball jackets like the ones worn by Michael J Fox in the film, bleach stained jeans like Cobain wore, the king of grunge.

The footwear was surprisingly sprightly too. Metallic high-top sneakers had a spray painted effect, with accents like pylon orange or cobalt blue. It was very young and fresh for the luxury brand. Equally as good: multicolored hiker boots, a style the brand has been pushing for a few seasons. For those unwilling to take the risk, it was done in simpler colored leathers like red and green.

What didn’t work were the references that felt derivative. As many labels are victim to, the Gucci effect was very present here: whimsical floral-print low-tops, baby blue flared trousers. It’s not to say one label owns these domains over another, but the influence was hard to deny and clear as a sunny sky. Personal Review

Bally’s collection was loaded with color. I thought this collection was very youthful looking and had a youthful, back to school look to it. Even though the collection is full of unique pieces, like pants with clouds on them and tops with daisies, I think it’s a very wearable collection. Like a lot of other shows this season, this collection does not have a very masculine look to it, but it works for Bally this season better than others. BALMAIN Vogue.com As technology progresses in incrementally mind-bending bounds, old-fashioned ‘journalism’—or ‘content- creation’ as newfangleds foully term in—increasingly demands mastery (or at least competence) of more platforms than Elton John could ever imagine in his wildest dreams. This week in Paris, for instance, Vogue Runway started experimenting with broadcasting live from shows on Facebook. This critic was the guinea pig with the microphone, and this evening Olivier Rousteing kindly agreed to get involved. So before I left the venue, I had not only gleaned much more information from Rousteing than a typical post- show chateroo, but had simulcast it to an audience that, according to the comments pinging and ponging across the screen, were powerfully interested in Kim and Kanye but less so in the novelly organic crochet work we saw later in the collection, plus a hitherto unsuspected Rousteing-ian yen for Versace- challenging power color. Since then I’ve seen another show. Inhaled some supper. Had a coffee. Checked Instagram. Felt sadness about the news of Bill Cunningham’s passing. And now sit here in front the screen wondering, what can be delivered with words that is more affectingly visceral and insightful than images? I suppose the answer lies in reporting and hunch. Proximity and focused attention should deliver insight. Backstage among the models, these clothes—as I’ve perhaps written before—appear like some magnificent ceremonial attire of a luxurious and infinitely resourced potentate you never knew existed. But Balmain is about more than bling: It takes balls to wear a sports suit of silver . And you need guts to wear a minidress in cascades of iridescent beading that charts your bodily contours more closely than a medical checkup. Thus the whole Olivier ‘this is my army’ thing makes sense. He is a boy from Bordeaux who his predecessor at the house, Christophe Decarnin, reportedly recalls was consistently the first worker in and the last out when he moved there after his first job at Roberto Cavalli. And despite the power of his cheekbones and the mastery of his image-creation, I get the sense that the burning ambition and commitment that we see in Rousteing isn’t necessarily a product of his own self- confidence—but of his desire to deliver a wearable form of that greatest of 21st-century assets to others. This is cod-psychology, but imagine if you could bottle confidence. Deliver armor and declare power. That is what Rousteing gives his audience. And now that he seems set to be turbocharged by investment, as infinitely turbocharged as his aesthetic—“my brand new day,” as he called it with tangible glee during that Facebook session—his empire will surely grow. WWD

Olivier Rousteing, age 30, has 3.4 million followers on Instagram and cheekbones for days. He also just launched a collaboration with Nike and was instrumental in helping Balmain attract a powerful new owner: Valentino parent Mayhoola for Investments, which shelled out an estimated 500 million euros, or $556 million, for the Paris fashion house.

His confidence was plain at his show on Saturday, which seemed to say to his new bosses: See what I can do? For here was a diverse collection, the men’s looks spanning everything from fleece hoodies and denim to jackets and ponchos spangled and bejeweled enough for a pharaoh — and, indeed, many of the motifs had the vibe of ancient civilizations.

In the same vein as his women’s show in March, Rousteing showed a softer side in his men’s wear, parading similar jackets in sand-colored along with long and slinky cardigans and short, comfy caftans. The women’s looks on Saturday’s runway also displayed a wider register, from the familiar va-va-voom minidresses crystallized to the hilt to a sleek, dead-simple , the jacket belted and revealing a sliver of shoulder.

Whether or not Rousteing’s penchant for showiness and bling is your cup of tea, there was no mistaking these clothes for anything but Balmain — his Balmain. In an interview last week to discuss the acquisition, the brand’s chief executive officer Emmanuel Diemoz lauded the “optimistic” quality to the young Frenchman’s designs. One could see what he means in the designer’s upbeat spring display, full of of vivid color, flowing silk and twinkling crystals. The collection was inspired by beach scenes Rousteing devours on the Instagram accounts of his friends — escapism, pure and simple. Business of Fashion

Another label, another tribe: the Balmain posse of muscled-up ubermensch is certainly no less hedonist. They are not clubbers, though, but flashy and wealthy jet-setters that end up on the world's most beautiful islands and beaches, and Instagram for the joy and envy of their followers. This is more or less the scenario Olivier Rousteing conjured in the show notes, which translated into the usual galore of sculptural tailoring, sexy militarism and overpowering decoration.

Faithful to the beach mood, the collection looked a lot lighter than usual: airy knits in colourful stripes were featured abundantly, together with sun-bleached denim, ponchos and an avalanche of embroideries. One might ask where on earth does a man like this live? He seems like an oddity left floating around since the 80s — but the screaming fans outside and the star-studded audience was proof that there is ample room for Balmain's vision in the world. Personal Review

This was a very eclectic show. Olivier Rousteing used different fabrics, colors, and styles for this collection. Many designers this season are focusing their lines on loose, comfortable clothing for men, including Rousteing. This collection included heavy layering. I loved the vibrant colors. BELSTAFF Vogue.com This season(s), the motorcycling heritage brand Belstaff sped into broader fashion consensus by aligning the theme and presentation of its Resort and Pre-Spring menswear collections. Yet it was careful to retain the authorial independence of its two gender-specific design chiefs. That theme, as menswear’s Fred Dyhr put it, “starts with the 1971 documentary On Any Sunday, which featured Steve McQueen. And we were also looking at what was happening in England in riding and motorcycle culture at the same time. And it was about customization: A lot of riders were taking stars, stripes and customizing their own jackets.” This was a safe-ish theme for Belstaff—after all, McQueen was one of its best-known champions and On Any Sunday is all about motorcycle culture—but the customization angle gave each designer room to articulate their own creative urges while staying in broad alignment. So let’s shift gears, and veer over to womenswear designer Delphine Ninous: “Of course there is moto inspiration in the clothes: That is us. But there is also something a little bit less first degree and literal. I have worked to bring a little bit of softness in it.” Standout womenswear pieces included soft and fluid suede Perfectos in green and tan, some great denim spattered with starry fruits of that customization theme, and animal-camp fringed and shirts. The menswear was harder but no less consideredly sophisticated: Here the to-be- expected moves included enduro jackets in richly burnished leather patches, moto-leather pants, and . The Millerain camo with house diamond-stitch detail were less obvious but no less lovely. “We share an office,” said Fred of Delphine, “and we talk all the time.” There is harmony here, but each rider chooses their own course. WWD

Belstaff showed off a coed collection that was packed with rough-edged, lived-in looking jackets and waxed leathers — all with a sexy Seventies feel.

Taking their cue from the 1971 motorcycle film “On Any Sunday,” which stars Steve McQueen, Belstaff designers Frederik Dyhr and Delphine Ninous riffed on riders’ personalized racing leathers and the era’s taste for experimentation with new dyes and patterns.

Leather jackets — many of them dual-gender styles — hugged the body and featured contrasting sleeves, patterns and stripes, or stars dotted down the arms. Leathers came in black, caramel, burgundy, yellow, gray and white and were often patchworked together and made to look pre-used.

Never has this collection felt so raw, sporty and packed with covetable pieces. Dyhr himself was wearing a tobacco-colored waxed suede jacket from the collection that looked loved and lived-in.

The women’s jackets came with suede patches and quilted bits, while skinny leather trousers were embellished with zips. The collection also featured figure-hugging padded and jackets — and denim ones with quilted patches and stars running down the sleeves.

Knits for men and women came skinny and ribbed or in sweatshirt form, a gray one was made from cotton cashmere with thick red piping around the cuffs and waistband. When the Belstaff bikers aren’t in the mood for leather or suede, they can turn to aviator jackets with a dry wax finish or lightweight cotton camouflage ones. The Fashionsto Approaching spring-summer 2017, Belstaff takes inspiration from Bruce Brown’s 1971 motorcycle film On Any Sunday, which starred Steve McQueen. Embracing the spirit of the era, Belstaff revisits its 70s archives, highlighting its own icons. Standout outerwear for the season includes the label’s Trialmaster, café racer and Roadmaster jackets. Discussing the allure of the 70s, Belstaff’s VP of men’s design Frederik Dyhr shares, “That period was also a defining time for Belstaff because leather manufacturers on both sides of the Atlantic were really embracing this idea of personalizing leatherwear and so began an era of strong color direction which we’ve really tapped into for summer.” Personal Review

I enjoy the sophisticated, ride or die look. It’s very contradicting, but it looks very nice. This season Belstaff exhibited a relaxed, sporty look. The pieces are basic in structure, for the most part, but have a unique twist to them. Using more than one color for each piece, the stripes, stars, and diamonds, make the collection a little more exciting. While many designers have been focusing on creating gender neutral collections this season, I think Belstaff actually nailed it even if he didn’t mean to. These clothes would look great on both men and women. I think a lot of the other gender neutral lines do not look good on both sexes. BOTTEGA VENETA Vogue.com One might suspect Bottega Veneta of wanting to have its cake and eat it, too, by making a big ta- dah about showing next Spring’s men’s collection at its women’s show in this September, yet then rolling it out for review in the showroom here now. However, the reason—a double anniversary of 50 years of the house and 15 years of Tomas Maier’s captaincy of it—is fair enough. In the showroom this collection looked worthy of a double celebration, too. The broader undercurrent was an exploration of 1930s and ’40s workwear shapes—luxurified, naturally—and peppered with house intrecciato details. A crinkled lamé biker in wind-blasted walnut tone was accented with ribboned intrecciato and hung on the rail above wide-legged high-waisted walnut cotton pants with a three-inch turn-up and deep burgundy faux monk-strap -on shoes. Irregular checked nylon jackets and treated merino knits patched with triangle patches—puzzle pieces—of mixed leathers betrayed Maier’s yen for considered richness. Techno- pants were patch-pocketed and utilitarian of cut. Thirty percent silk suits had a subtle shine and were displayed to be worn above shirts of cotton bonded to knit with embroidered detailings. There was a Gabicci-ness to these cocktails of merino and leather. Cotton pants in a green pattern that looked hand-painted but weren’t had a camouflage meets Dutch print meets mid-century upholstery vibe to them. There were more bikers in camouflage, a mighty shamrock fils-on-fils woven jacket, and a stand-out dusty pink leisure suit. Crinkled cotton linen double- breasted suits in citrine were worn above a zippered-off yellow smock top. Techno moleskin returned in cinch-back worker’s pants. There was a fine double-bonded matte and shiny calf jacket. The shoes were predominantly saddleshoes served white of vamp and quarter. The show in September will be in a special Milan venue—as yet unrevealed. It will be interesting to see how this collection of luxury povera threads though the intrecciato of whatever Maier is cooking up for womenwear. WWD

There is rarely a whiff of any androgyny at Bottega Veneta, where Tomas Maier plies lived-in- looking, resolutely masculine fashions that are nevertheless painstakingly detailed.

The Forties was his touchstone decade this time, telegraphed by roomy pants that puddle over two-tone saddle shoes, and a borderline-drab wartime palette. Tailoring in lustrous cotton blends or deliberately rumpled, metal-flecked linen had the same slouchy and elongated line as his fall 2016 collection. Workwear details like utility pockets, metal studs and leather patches tempered the luxury factor of the .

The brand’s signature braiding sprouted over brogues, biker jackets and blousons, adding texture to pockets and yokes on clothing. Puzzle-like patchworks on leather blousons recalled the Seventies, as did camp shirts and donkey jackets in a doubleknit. While some of the clothes were overcharged with crinkling and patchworking, Maier nailed it with the quiet chic of a languid, beige silk trench, or a crisp -like shirt tucked into those big pants.

The designer displayed his spring 2017 effort on racks at Bottega’s Milan headquarters, and will parade it alongside his women’s wear effort in September — the latest convert to coed shows. With the exception of a petal pink tracksuit, his boys will be boys. Now Fashion

Would you believe that Tomas Maier has been at the luxury brand for 15 years? He has. And it coincides with another landmark for the brand – 50 years. So this season there was no menswear show. But that doesn’t mean the message is a show-business rethink (not yet, anyway). Because it’s a double anniversary, all the celebrating will wait until September. What it did mean though was an up-close look at Maier’s Spring/Summer 2017 menswear handiwork – he is a master of craft and Bottega a brand built on artisanal work and detail. And it’s well worth zooming on in: the woven leather braid, the contrast colour piping, the patchwork (lots and lots of it in exotic skins) for a collection anchored in Forties workwear silhouettes and reference. Which made for some seriously great jackets and a wide-leg trouser shape that could have stepped straight off of the set of South Pacific. The two points to note: workwear with roots in Americana style is forming quite the criteria reference point – jackets in particular popping up across Milan in this vein; and that following a day of shows that screeched with bells and whistles, it was nice to go low-fi and up close. Personal Review

This season’s collection contained relaxed looks with muted colors. While it looks polished, I’m not blown away with this collection. I find it a little boring. I do like the utilitarian look to the clothes, though. It was a very retro season for Bottega Veneta. CALVIN KLEIN Vogue.com Calvin Klein is in a strange situation for Spring. Actually, it’s not that strange: house sans creative director holds the fort for a season or few with the uncredited, somewhat unloved anonymous mass of the “design team” before unveiling its splashy new hire. It’s becoming the oldest story in the fashion book. Since the April departures of Italo Zucchelli and Francisco Costa, creative directors of men’s and women’s Calvin Klein Collection lines, respectively, eyes are on Klein, awaiting presumably imminent confirmation of its much-rumored new blood. But fashion waits for no man; even without a designer in the post, Klein has to produce something to plug the seasonal gap. Why? Calvin Klein Collection’s sales make up a tiny proportion of the overall turnover of the behemoth company—in 2015, worldwide revenue stood around $8.2 billion, with a focus on jeans and underwear—thus the focus is on the marketing power of the high-fashion range. (Klein poetically dubs it the “halo" brand.) That helps make sense of the necessity to show the range in this interim period; it’s important for Klein’s name to remain in fashion magazines, and to retain a presence on the Fashion Week calendar. Where, presumably, this time next season, someone else will be debuting their menswear for the brand, and we’ll all be dying to write about it. But not today. Team-lead collections are notoriously tricky beasts, frequently wrong-footed by runway showcases where fitful applause and a long pause in place of a designer's bow only serves to emphasize an absence of creative direction. Kudos is due to Klein, then, for bowing out of the pressure of such a show and instead presenting a quiet selection of quiet clothes with a minimum of fuss. Incidentally, they intend to do the same for women in September. The clothes themselves were basic, honestly; continuing in the vein of Zucchelli’s output, they trod the well-traveled road of Americana, reiterating jean and varsity jackets, collegiate sweaters, a mesh baseball shirt, and pleat-front chinos, but in shot through with nylon, to give a crunch and a glisten to the , or a slithery, sickly-looking . It was a serviceable effort, but one that in its timidity betrayed its design-by-committee roots, as well as a debt to the past few collections by Zucchelli, whose strongest moments were intriguing riffs on tech reinterpretations of Klein signature, best-selling . A shot of shiny thread in a weave doesn’t really cut it. It’s difficult to imagine anything in this offering justifying a Calvin Klein Collection price tag. No matter. This was about garnering yet more anticipation for what will come next—and that was palpable. The all-important motto here? Wait and see. There are exciting things about to be afoot at Klein. This collection was the breathing space, before its breath of fresh air. WWD

Simplicity was the key word at Calvin Klein Collection, which held a low-key static presentation in Milan following the exit of former men’s creative director Italo Zucchelli, as well as women’s creative director Francisco Costa. (The brand, as WWD has reported exclusively earlier, is widely expected to tap Raf Simons as creative director next month overseeing all the brand’s collections and marketing.) A range of men’s staples was on display on mannequins. These included clean one button and double-breasted , varsity jackets with shirting collars and workwear-inspired front pocket shirts. For a hint of athleticism, a fishnet T-shirt with leather inserts was layered over a sweatshirt and matched with relaxed pleated pants. Following seasons of statement shows, Calvin Klein Collection is definitely expected to offer more next season. NY Times

The individual touch does still make a difference. It’s what was lacking from the small sampling that Calvin Klein Collection brought out at its offices on Viale Umbria as it treads water between the dismissal of its previous designer (the long-serving Italo Zucchelli, who exited in April) and the appointment of its next

There was nothing wrong, per se, with the denim jackets redone in satin, the simple suiting, a couple of striped knits. But they weren’t the thing to quicken the pulse, either. They felt perfunctory and required, barely worth the trip

It’s one of the odder situations in fashion at the moment: The assumption that Raf Simons will be named Calvin Klein’s next designer in the near future is now so widespread and oft-repeated as to be accepted as a settled truth

But with an impersonal collection, the company (and Mr. Simons) offered only this least personal of tidbits: no comment. Personal Review

This collection was black, white, and basic. While the pieces looked sporty, they were not very exciting. I didn’t dislike this collection, but it wasn’t one of my favorites. The clothes in this collection are very wearable, though, and would make great go-to pieces for layering for day to day clothes. CANALI Vogue.com “Tailoring, tailoring, tailoring, everywhere. That is what we do. It has to be tailoring. It’s us; what we are and what we want to be.” Pre-show, Elisabetta Canali wasn’t reining back her 1900-employee family company’s dedication to the sartorial. And the collection itself, the first post Andrea Pompilio’s exit after a two-year tenure, was also deeply invested in the traditional attire of alpha man. The models emerged from a cat’s cradle of rope meant to evoke , which was also reminiscent of the wonderful poster for Hitchcock’s Vertigo. The show opened and closed with jackets of a fil-on-fil fabric— malfilei, Canali called it—in which you could see the competing and pleasingly organic jumble of warp versus weft. There was a mighty series of softly colored suits (dusty blues, terracotta ochres) that gently stretched the house Kei jacket by inserting secondary pocket-square pockets at the hip. These suits were worn over double-layered knits rucked half up at one side, and there was plentiful use of the sub-collar . So that was the tailoring, and it was lovely. But there was plenty of more diverse luxury attire too: bombers with bodies of perforated leather and knit arms, long light trenches, leather M65s, and double-hemmed . The narrative of tailoring has always been one of minor navigational adjustments on a long-range journey to match the changing tastes of the men it outfits. Today there is also demand for a counterbalance of that which isn’t tailored at all. It’s a brave new world, and Canali is adapting. Business of Fashion There were light tones of grey and blue, spiced up with dashes of burnt Sienna, at Canali, one of the veritable bastions of Italian dressing. The chromatic lightness was a counterpoint to the house specialty: weightless tailoring. And, indeed, everything looked breezy and airy on the catwalk, from formal suits worn with informal panache to sportswear worn with an air of propriety. It was business as usual for the brand, which is a perfect example of Italian classicism. But the goings got repetitive — even a tad boring. The collection lacked the slight fashionable sparkle of recent seasons. The reason? The lack of a creative director. No matter how traditional the brand, staging a requires a keen act of image-making. Otherwise it's just clothes and it's better to just show them in the showroom. WWD Following the exit of its creative director Andrea Pompilio, the Canali design team did not take any aesthetic risks for spring and paraded a charmingly subdued collection strong on lightweight fabrics. Pleated trousers came in a liquid silk and linen, while a handsomely textured summer took the weight off double-breasted day suits and evening jackets, while keeping a stalwart character. Trench coats in breezy technical materials looked modern and cool when matched with the brand’s leather sneakers and those liquid pants. A series of deerskin blousons, so thin they were worn in lieu of a shirt under suit jackets, also made this is a trans- seasonal collection. With small bags attached to cinched waists as the the only visual extravaganza here, the purified look essentially felt very Canali. Elisabetta Canali, in charge of global communications at the family owned brand, said she was in no rush of finding a substitute for Pompilio. “What we need is to develop creativity without outside advice. And we need to trust and believe in what we do,” she smiled. Personal Review

I thought this collection looked very sleek and put together. Though the pieces were not very daring, the tailoring was incredible, as always. Canali’s show was one of the few that was pretty masculine. Unlike a lot of the other shows, women would not look good in Canali’s clothes this season. I appreciate Canali showcasing a masculine collection. CARVEN Vogue.com

For a brand that has never overtly positioned itself as activewear, Carven sure made a point to prove otherwise with its latest collection. Men’s artistic director Barnabé Hardy enlisted I Could Never Be a Dancer, a Paris-based choreography duo who specialize in crossover fashion, art, and music projects, to show off the clothes with maximum movement. The troupe of dancers flexed, leaped, moonwalked, and body-rolled in Hardy’s chambray Bermuda shorts , neon flocked , and suits boasting double-face back flaps. Gripping elasticized bands lined within a giant frame, they lunged as they would in a TRX workout, all while dressed in color- blocked knits and slim-cut pants with enough lightness, natural stretch, and geometric decorative accents to ensure unrestricted and graphic appeal.

This flow of dancers demonstrated how Carven menswear is less concerned with gender fluidity (what with womenswear the label’s marquee) than fluidity in general. Abstracted patterns of feathers and watery ink marks gave the impression that Hardy wanted to avoid anything—be it materials or mood—that would weigh down the collection. Unsurprisingly, footwear played an essential role in the performance; monogrammed sneakers and thick-soled deck shoes encouraged extra bounce, while the Michael Jackson–esque sparkle added offbeat kick.

Backstage, Hardy admitted that he would adore the opportunity to design actual dance , perhaps even reinvigorating a classical production with similarly streetwise looks. Whether or not this was an audition, he effectively showed it could be done. WWD “I have always wanted to be a dancer,” Barnabé Hardy divulged backstage before the show, where stylists were frantically spraying the models’ socks with silver glitz. “But I could never be a dancer,” the designer noted with a line that also served as the working title of this spring’s collection. The models quickly revealed themselves to be professional hip-hop, modern and ballet dancers, while the clothes channeled a relaxed and tasteful aesthetic. Barnabé turned to seersucker suits and flocked nylon parkas for lightness. He worked with layering, as seen on papery shirt jackets worn over thin chambray shirts, and made the models dance in a wide range of pleated tapered pants, proving instantly that tailoring can and should be comfy, without compromising the look. Business of Fashion At Carven’s miniature spectacle, creative director Barnabé Hardy opted for Parisian experimental dance troupe I Could Never Be A Dancer rather than models to showcase the clothes in a camp, high-energy routine choreographed around a central install of stretchy floor-to-ceiling textile bands. Whilst Guillaume Henry’s Carven boy of season’s past harboured a sort of austere, whimsical allure, Hardy proffered glittery silver socks under pastel seersucker suits, playful segmented knits, and poppy neon jackets in crushed nylon, for a decidedly more boisterous and collegiate aesthetic for next Spring. Those neons paid testament to that fact, with roomy parka shapes and slim blousons (layered for a harmonious tech/tailoring mash-up) that felt relevant to today’s urban sportswear fixation — as did the crossbody satchels and a kooky boat cum athletic trainer. Personal Review

This Carven collection was characterized by loose, light, comfortable fitting clothes and a lot of layering. Barnabé Hardy has said that for this line he was inspired by dancers, and created an athletic looking line this season full of movement. I thought Hardy did a great job designing clothes in mind for a man constantly moving and on the go. I think that it this was a very wearable collection. CHRISTOPHER KANE Vogue.com “Everyone is a target, when it comes to grief, or theft,” said Christopher Kane. Last night, he posted a rainbow watercolor on his Instagram account (handle: @kanechristopher82) with brokenhearted sympathy for the victims of Orlando, and the caption #NOTOHATECRIMES. He was standing in his store in Mount Street with his sister Tammy in London today, explaining how they had grown up in Scotland in the ’80s and ’90s surrounded by a culture where football hooliganism, sectarian Catholic- Protestant gang tensions, and standoffs with the police were a regular part of life. That is how the idea of graphics used by British police for shooting-range targets ended up on his parkas and bags in the men’s collection he was previewing. “I’ve been working on it for four months. It’s about our childhood near Glasgow, and what we saw then; that is what I always do.” The sensations of fear experienced in Kane’s teenage years are always shot through his work somewhere, but this time, all too obviously, the imagery has accidentally accrued a traumatic overlay of topicality. The unintended contextual perception on this day, of all days, is painful—but then again, it links back to the terror of male violence that Kane has seen with his own eyes and abhorred since childhood. Perhaps he will be judged for making a poor judgment here, but more fairly, should not the judgment be on the enduring scourge that makes this subject one ever more unavoidable in our culture? Anyway, the subject of gangs and per se is one of the wellsprings of menswear, and hardly a divergent source. With Kane, it’s specific: the working class—or rather, unemployed class—of neds who Tammy Kane remembers meeting for pitched battles in Motherwell on a Saturday afternoon after Celtic- Rangers soccer matches. “You knew to keep out of the shopping center on match days.” Neds, though? “Non-educated delinquents!” she translated. “Even though they were poor, mind you, they were always immaculately dressed, with clean socks and wearing Stone Island,” her brother chimed in. “And Versace Jeans Couture—and Galliano and Westwood!” Well, what lad would guess at this backstory when approaching a store rail with pieces of this Christopher Kane collection hanging on it? Whether he’s attracted to the giant pansy-pattern or the pink cotton T-shirt that reminds Kane of prison-inmate uniform, or the reflective techno thread in the stay-pressed pants, no matter. It’s only clothes, though definitely not ones to go looking for a fight in. WWD

Terrorism and violence are unfortunately becoming the new normal as seen in the weekend’s nightclub massacre in Orlando, Fla., and the hooliganism that marred at the opening Euro 2016 match in Marseilles, France.

Christopher Kane said he witnessed his own share of gang behavior and stadium slugging while growing up in Glasgow, Scotland. He is also fan of crime dramas, particularly forensic ones — no surprise given his fascination with scientific themes.

Cue “Law and Order,” the name for his spring collection that spanned parkas printed with firing range targets, T-shirts splashed with thermal imaging, and prison smocks in the same pink tones meant to keep inmates calm.

The combination of vibrant print and oversize shapes added up to a graphic cool, but were in no way meant to glamorize violence, Kane stressed. Indeed, giant pansy motifs on sweaters — a carryover from Kane’s women’s resort collection — resembled the swirling colors of those thermal surveillance images on oversize sweatshirts and .

The collection also included homespun checks, cut into crisp and square shorts and shirts, just like the ones Kane’s childhood friends wore on TV nights. “Crimewatch and casual,” he said. WSJ The show must go on, and yes, in fashion there are always editors to woo and buyers to entice. But it is hard to imagine what a difficult day Monday was for Christopher Kane, who staged a runway three days after the passing of his mother. Show notes explaining that Mr. Kane wouldn't be greeting visitors backstage said Christine Kane died of a “sudden illness.” The collection, no doubt fully formed before Ms. Kane’s passing, was intimate in another way. The designer explored what he called a “classical sensuality,” examining “something sexual but not grotesque.” The cues were kept subtle for most of the very feminine show, but in the last few looks Kane’s vision became rather obvious. Several dresses featured oversize sketches of human forms intertwined. Show notes called it “lovers lace.” Personal Review

One of the things I love most about fashion is that it is a form of self expression you carry with you everywhere you go for everyone to see. I love that Kane used his past as a muse for this collection. The message Kane is spreading through his clothing this season, in light of all the recent tragedies, is amazing. While I love the muted colors, pop of pastels, and minimal graphics, what I love most is the message behind the collection. COACH Vogue.com

Stuart Vevers is one of those designers as concerned with the bottom line as with the hemline, as preoccupied with the commercial afterlife of a product as the exact angle for its runway debut. Those designers are rare—although, increasingly, less so, given the demands of IPOs, CEOs, and, increasingly, a press corps that devours financial information as rabidly as new lines. Coach has been through some rocky times of late, but the company’s latest financial results are rosy (sales in the latest quarter spiked up 13 percent on the year), and revenue stands at $4.24 billion annually. Before his Spring 2017 menswear show, Vevers clutched a lukewarm latte and jabbed at looks pinned to a board: “That’s the best seller,” he said, highlighting first a bag, then a coat, then a T-shirt, with lightning speed.

Vevers is turned on by the idea of dressing the world, which is why his Coach 1941 collections—for him, and her—are so immediately and easily accessible. For Spring, it was once again a riff on American wardrobe classics. “Every look is styled with a T-shirt,” stated Vevers. They were, but it was more interesting that the ethos of the T-shirt—an American working-class underwear staple pulled center stage in the mid-’50s, and now an indispensable everyday staple for the majority of the planet— informed every piece. Coach clothing is easy to wear, uncomplicated, fuss-free. It’s also comfortingly familiar—both in that we know the garments from our own wardrobes (classic bombers, skinny pants, penny loafers, those T-shirts) and because they have, over the seasons Vevers has been designing, created an identifiable Coach look. They included, naturally, multiple iterations of the best sellers Vevers pointed out. “We’ve reset the idea of the brand people thought they knew,” said he. “Now we can push further.”

As befits a designer interested in commerce, the push was as much about selling as showing the collection. Vevers chose to respond to the ongoing debates about instant access selling. His tagline: See now, buy now—or else! After the show, Coach will release a selection of pieces from the collection, in limited quantities. When they’re gone, they’re gone—and, presumably, you have to wait until next spring. “We trialed it with a in the last women’s collection,” said Vevers. “It sold out in an hour and a half.” Impressive.

What’s even more impressive is how Vevers is challenging preconceptions about the creative limitations these new ideas of selling will place on designers. Half the collection wasn’t there when Vevers walked me through—because Gary Baseman, a contemporary artist Vevers collaborated with for his Spring 2015 womenswear line, was busy scribbling across the leather jackets and bags, less than 24 hours before the show was set to begin. The pieces Coach will retail right now will be similarly hand-decorated by Baseman, alongside more affordable print totes and T-shirts. “It’s about thinking of how to get an intimate voice from a big brand,” said Vevers. You hope more labels can think with such open-mindedness when addressing these ever-more-insistent demands.

Like he said, there is an intimacy to what Vevers offers at Coach, and a personality. For Spring, rather than his previous singular cinematic inspirations, Vevers had been channel-hopping. He simultaneously cited My Own Private Idaho, Rebel Without a Cause, obscure B-movies, and even an episode of The Twilight Zone—one called “Black Leather Jackets”—as equal influence. They added up to a general notion of teenage rebellion; of customization; of personalization, even, with models’ penny loafers pimpled with studs, jackets pinned with badges, and Baseman’s dribble, spray-painted art everywhere, especially on salable black leather jackets. It even infested classic prints, like Aloha florals and surfer seascapes. “He’s involved in just about all of it,” said Vevers, pointing out a Baseman-ian snake wriggling through undergrowth on Hawaiian shirts.

The collection was handsome but made to be pulled apart into individual pieces, rather than proposing a head-to-toe look. Vevers likes that idea, and it seems he engineers his designs to fulfill it. In the end, though, perhaps you can’t judge its success before the sales figures are totted up. Vevers himself summed it adroitly: “The customer has the final say.” WWD

Stuart Vevers took his nostalgia for big-screen America and the open road a step further this season with a collection that was awash in original artwork and pop culture classics — the Hawaiian shirt, rodeos, smiley faces and fuzzy dice.

Fascinated by the purity and timelessness of work wear, the counter-cultural charms of James Dean — and New York punk and hip-hop — Vevers teamed with artist Gary Baseman to give some American classics an arty, rebel’s spin.

Baseman drew and painted on bomber, biker, varsity and shearling jackets — as well as T-shirts and trousers — conjuring dinosaurs here and Smiley faces there. He worked cowboy , bucking broncos, hibiscus flowers and distorted skulls onto them via patches, embroidery or printed motifs for silk fabrics.

“He even did the tattoos on models’ legs,” said Vevers after the show. “Gary’s been with me the past few days, and was painting until 7 this morning. I wanted this collection to feel very spontaneous.”

Separately, Baseman has also customized 10 totes and 10 jackets that went live on the Coach site earlier Monday. The capsule he created for Coach also includes limited-edition printed bags and T-shirts.

Vevers’ color palette came straight from “American Graffiti” with a focus on red, burgundy, mustard and olive hues, and he also worked plaids into the collection — via that peeked from under waistbands and a crosshatch pattern on trousers and shirts.

Silhouettes, too, had a Fifties feel, thanks to narrow trousers — some with zips at the ankle — or wider, low-slung ones. Embellishment came in the form of long, lush fringes, leopard print patches on jackets or dangling leather dinosaur skeletons on a multitude of bag s.

Vevers took his bow dressed in a gray marl Mickey Mouse T-shirt from his very own archive, in homage to America’s enduring matinee idol. The brand is set to start selling Disney x Coach 1941, a collaboration that will go live on coach.com and in Coach stores on Friday. GQ It seemed appropriate that Coach turned that most British of buildings, the Royal Horticultural Society’s Lindley Hall in Westminster into what looked like West Texas for its show. Appropriate because Stuart Vevers, the creative director of this all-American heritage brand, is pure Yorkshire. This cross-fertilisation has seen catwalk line Coach 1941 enjoy a renaissance and the Spring/Summer 2017 collection illustrated how powerful Vevers' vision for the brand is. With the celebration of updated classic Americana such as Hawaiian shirts and leather jackets customised by LA-based artist and cartoonist Gary Baseman, as well as bright bombers and cool varsity jackets coupled with brilliant slim-cut Hawaiian print trousers. A personal favourite was Vever’s very "James Dean" take on cherry-red leather jackets. These rebels had every reason to celebrate. Personal Review

Coach took a punk rock take to the All American look. Vevers used James Dean and his infamous look as inspiration for his show. We see a lot of black, red, and white in the show, with pops of a military green. Overall I really liked this show. Some of the graphics on the clothing seemed to be a little much, but I liked the direction Vevers went with this collection COMME DES GARCONS HOMME Vogue.com

Fashion inspired by fairy tales follows a relatively conventional route: Cinderella and a transformative dress; Rumpelstiltskin spinning straw into gold. Rei Kawakubo, however, looked to a different source for her Spring 2017 Comme des Garçons show: Hans Christian Andersen’s story “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” It’s the tale of an emperor hoodwinked by two charlatans into paying a king’s ransom for absolutely nothing—the emperor is convinced that he has purchased finery that appears invisible to those who are incompetent, stupid or unfit for office, when in fact he is simply parading through the streets naked.

“The emperor’s new clothes” fast became an idiom—and its use to denounce all manner of fashion is ongoing, and vitriolic. Generally, the fashion it’s used to describe is the that doesn’t look the way other clothes do: namely, expensive clothes that don’t appear especially so. Clothes with tears and holes, unfinished hems, deliberately synthetic. Everything that rebels against the centuries-old order of sumptuary luxe. If the actual form of the clothes is abnormal—by which I mean unconventional—even worse. The explicit statement is that we’re all being taken for a ride; implicit is the notion that clothes are only as deep as the material they ’re made of.

That such accusations often reach a particularly fevered point in Paris, in overreaction to the conceptual, cerebral depths plumbe d at a Comme des Garçons show, cannot have been lost on Kawakubo. One wonders, also, if today she was toying with the fact that the fashion press frowns, concentrates, and tries to extract its own meaning from her clothes—desperate to see the message, the same way the subjects of the Emperor tried valiantly to see his nonexistent garments.

Kawakubo therefore showed transparent clothing—mostly entirely see-through PVC, like ghost garments, suspending details like collars or buttons around her models’ bodies. And much body was on show, through layers of transparency, while striped cotton had the feel of boxer shorts used for pinched suits, as if outerwear had been X-rayed. The emperor did have some opacity to his wardrobe: a Nike shoe tie-in, and a series of printed suits in collaboration with the Italian decorative arts company Fornasetti, patterning suits with their signature etched faces, mouths, eyes. Like the thronging crowds pretending to see the Emperor was dressed.

In a rare show of creative transparency, Kawakubo writ her inspiration large on her garments: The King Is Naked read a few; Beau ty is in the eye, others; still more, It’s my fashion. The models each had their hair tonsured and teased into towering , in case you were left in any doubt.

That kind of clarity—rar from Kawakubo—oddly chimed with her own declaration of the collection’s theme: the easiness by which information is obtained in the world today, perhaps to excess. That’s especially true of fashion, where journalists hurry bac k to listen to designer diatribes in a desperate attempt to decode their work, shorthand, before moving onto the next. Kawakubo is famously reticent to take part in these ritual backstage soliloquies, furnishing just one or two phrases to explain her work. To see them written on her clothing isn’t just unusual, it’s downright suspicious.

It made you wonder if, perhaps, Kawakubo was using her collection and its theme as a parable about something broader than fashion. After all it was the innocent, unknowing child who spoke the truth in Hans Christian Andersen’s tale, while the scholars went on with the ruse. And, of course, there’s the argument that a transparent ensemble gives us entirely too much information about the person wearing it. WWD

“The King Is Naked.” “Pride Before the Fall.” The slogans emblazoned on plastic macs at the Comme des Garçons men’s show could be read in a number of ways.

“In the world of today information is so easily obtained — there is perhaps too much information,” said the show notes, adding that designer Rei Kawakubo wanted to probe that notion through the medium of Hans Christian Andersen’s fable “The Emperor’s New Clothes.”

The designer used acres of sheer or opaque plastic as the for her exploration, tailoring the material into handsome raincoats, , jackets and capes that offered only a suggestion of coverage.

Their hair gelled into stiff crowns, models ambled around in boxer shorts, flimsy layers of plastic netting and transparent high tops from the label’s new collaboration with Nike.

Kawakubo layered up grid patterns on the plastic, some resembling snow fence, to create random mash-ups. Conversely, she aligned vintage Fornasetti images into neat medallion shapes that echoed her signature polka dots.

The soundtrack — a marimba version of Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor,” otherwise known as the Dracula theme — added to the ironic tone of the display.

Kawakubo has cultivated an air of mystery by refusing to explain her creative process. Here, she reasserted her purist approach — and challenged consumers to cut through the hype. Business of Fashion TMI. Could you ever imagine that such a trite distillation of the contemporary glut of useless information would provide the cornerstone for a Comme des Garçons collection? “Naked King” was Rei Kawakubo’s key phrase for Spring 2017, tapping the Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale about the delusional ruler who paraded naked through town in the mistaken conviction that his new clothes were invisible only to the ignorant. His subjects, not wishing to appear stupid, went along with the illusion until one small child pointed out he was wearing nothing. Out of the mouths of babes… Does Kawakubo see herself as that truthteller, exposing the mass illusions with which fashion sustains itself? It’s not likely she’d even consider such a question remotely relevant. Still, there was a definite revelatory subtext in her procession of see-through clothes. Nowhere to hide in her plastic parade. TMI indeed. And yet, with kings in mind, there was also a perverse splendour to what she showed. The latex and sleeveless , the crosshatched vinyl webbing that encased Kawakubo’s models, the plastic hand-painted with the words The King is Naked, the hair teased into crowns by Julien d’Ys… it was all scaled to impress the King’s hoi-polloi. And inside it all was a passage of clothing serially printed with enigmatic images from the archives of the house Fornasetti. I say “splendour,” but, at the same time, this collection couldn’t help but emphasise the ineffectuality of the man who would don such garb. Miuccia Prada is on this very page at the moment. We are ruled by fools, like the king whose overweening sense of self made him a ludicrous figure of fun. The information flow is such that these morons have nowhere to hide. Can it ever be too much? As long as it steers us to wisdom, no. Personal Review

They say April showers bring May flowers. For spring, many designers used waterproof fabric, including this designer. This show looked very whimsical and eccentric, like the models were walking right out of a storybook. This was one of the more interesting shows this season. CRAIG GREEN Vogue.com

There’s something strangely English about what Craig Green does. The focus on craftsmanship. The storytelling. The practicality embedded into the garments. Even the name of his barely three-year-old label has a steadfast, stolid, even stoic quality. Alright, it’s Green’s own name, but it doesn’t make it any less worthy of analysis. And as London’s Spring 2017 menswear shows are choked by the traffic and road bl ockages caused by Queen Elizabeth’s 90th birthday celebration (the “Official” one, rather than her actual birthdate), it was difficult to look at Green’s latest collection and not see a reflection of Great Britain.

Or, maybe, not. Craig Green’s clothes are open to interpretation and extrapolation; when Green himself talks about them, he g enerally references wide and bold. This time, he talked about flags, about garments flapping like tarpaulins around the body, about saturated col ors strung like bright , and a draped number that reminded him of the white fabric of surrender. “The whole collection was initially b ased around a Scout ,” he said backstage. “That symbolism of ‘belonging’ to something.” He frequently mentioned the word “romantic,” and the notion of the whole thing feeling impulsive. As ever, you were encouraged to weave your own story into what Green did.

From a nuts and bolts perspective, Green shifted his collection on considerably from last season, and, indeed, the seasons be fore, as he explored complex color and pattern and intricate construction methods. This collection marked something of a turning point. Well it mi ght. Earlier this year, he received the GQ Fashion Fund prize, a grant of more than $200,000 enabling him to propel his business to the next le vel. Green’s garments have always been superlatively made, but this time, there was a new variety to them. His trademark brief workman’s j ackets came quilted and laced, in Moorish hand-blocked prints; there were hooded anoraks, and stand-out papery trench coats snaked with eyelets and ties.

If there’s a limit to what Green does, thus far it’s technical. His proposition overall strikes you as waist-up—jackets, coats, intriguing hybrids between the two. By contrast, Green’s wide-legged pants, stitched and laced and often left flailing, may have been instrumental in broadening the hemlines of tailoring across the board, but it’s difficult to imagine men wearing them in real life. Clever, then, to broaden that top-heavy offering, and play to his strengths.

But back to Green’s peculiar Britishness, which felt like a throbbing heartbeat behind the whole thing. The collection seemed fixated on the vernacular of everyday dress, for one, the hardy garb of quilted jackets, double-breasted blazers, and those handsome deconstructed coats, as well as hoodies—the new uniform, of a new generation. Green has often professed a fascination with uniformity, and what could be more uniform than those often-archaic costumes of his home country? Of Baden-Powell’s color-coded scarf-wrapped Scouts, and the quilted garb of the county farmer? He even offered a bunch of trailing , lappets of fabric flying loose, like pulled-apart reinterpretations of the garb of city gents.

“Challenging and reinterpreting the familiar” was, in fact, a notion Green proposed, to explain his approach. On the one hand, it’s easy to think of that as reflecting, once more, Great Britain, of a country mired in tried and tested traditions, archetypes and stereotypes. Yet, more significantly, it was the challenge to Green’s own formula, which is often magical, but has become undeniably familiar, that was the most refreshing.

It was wildly romantic. It felt wildly impulsive. And it was something to which you wished, desperately, to belong—to paraphrase William Blake, to those “Green,” and pleasant lands. Business of Fashion

LONDON, — Ambiguity is something of a stock in trade with British fashion: the gender games, the big tease, the convention unhinged by camp... Charles Jeffrey, who showed today, is the latest in a long and illustrious bloodline. But ambiguity has never been an arrow in Craig Green's quiver.

Like the man himself, his clothes are indubitably masculine. Even if their extreme aestheticism loans them a cross -gender allure, they're about men's hopes and dreams and disappointments. The collection Green showed today was his strongest statement yet about contemporary masculinity and, in its seamless blend of dream and reality, it was also Green's most confident expression to date of his own ethos.

The wardrobe of the working-man is always his starting point. In the past, that's meant more the salt of the earth — a farmer, a fisherman, a soldier — but today, by adding pinstripes, he brought city boys into the fold. After all, they work too. But Green deconstructed the traditional pinstripe suit, opening seams, reconstructing the suit as something out of a Kurosawa movie.

There is a fascinating sense with Green that his clothes are a glimpse of things to come, not just in fashion but in the worl d.

He did the same thing to a , dissected and laced back together in much the same abstract way you’d imagine an imag inative alien far in the future might try to reconstruct our society from excavated shards. Worlds collided. It was a vision. But not as much as the mosaic-patterned pieces that followed. Earlier in the week, Green mentioned Moroccan bed sheets as an inspiration. That scarcely did justice to the hybridized forms looped and laced into a semblance of clothes from a dream where reality is unpicked.

Yes, there were sleeves, there were trouser-legs, but they dangled or flapped free (or were bar-tacked, like the dream-master had a flash of reason). Then Green brought colour as bold and graphic as a flag into the equation, in outfits composed of scarves wrapped, knotted, draped, like sportswear for a fantasy Olympics. Sportswear that was also like a reconceptualization of nomad clothing. You wear all you have on your back. It was hard not to think of Green himself, getting by on the merest handful of clothing in his own life .

What this said about where men are in the cosmos could be open to wide interpretation. Green himself isn’t about to coach any one. Urgency? Security? They’re pretty much clichés at this point.

As much as Green acknowledged militarism, draping bandoliers loosely across his models’ chests, wrapping their heads in tight ninja hoods, he also celebrated a sensuality that looked almost perverse by comparison. Back-laced jackets or sleeves came undone, baring in a way that felt casually inevitable. And this, incidentally, didn’t equate with ambiguity, because it still ha d the calculated provocation of men who have nothing left but their masculinity.

There is a fascinating sense with Green that his clothes are a glimpse of things to come, not just in fashion but in the worl d. This collection brought together bits and pieces that might be considered fixed components of his design signature. Then it mutated them. That means whatever he does next is going to be extremely interesting. And how often can you say that with any degree of certainty in fashion? WWD Elizabeth Fraser’s angelic, otherworldly voice on the soundtrack accentuated the emotional charge of Craig Green’s spring collection, marked by a softer, more contemplative mood. The designer hammers away with his monastic layers and bold deconstruction, padded panels flapping or dangling when they’re not lashed to the garment with Frankenstein lacing. Yet this season he opened up his uncompromising fashion universe to a more homespun, organic aesthetic, employing geometric prints familiar on traditional quilts along with Krishna colors and burlap textures, while managing to keep things rugged and masculine. “Romantic” is the word he repeated backstage, highlighting the flag patterns that added graphic verve to his enveloping ensembles, in the past mostly rendered in searing, monochromatic colors. If his clothes have more soul than most, it’s because so much labor goes into them as Green described a process of bleaching garments and then color back into them, lending a lived-in, sunbaked appearance to his pastel palette, an emerging trend on day one of London Collections: Men. While Green inched toward commercial territory with a suite of handsome trenchcoats in beige, chocolate brown or black with modest doses of slashing and lacing, the show climaxed with austere black-and-white shirts and pants that only covered the front of the body, anchored to the body via thin lacing anchored to grommets. Designer-of-the-moment Gosha Rubchinskiy, dressed in a Supreme sweatshirt with detergent- packing logo, looked on intently, signaling that Green remains a talent to . Personal Review

While I can appreciate the artistic value to Craig Green’s collection, this was one of my least favorite shows. Craig Green received a lot of hype from the press, so I felt inclined to add his collection into the presentation. Green used earthy tones to his clothes. Craig Green’s collection, to me, gave off a “rags to riches” feel. The clothing looked like something a peasant in the middle ages would wear, but it was hand stitched and looked very expensive. DIESEL BLACK GOLD Vogue.com Small Trades, Irving Penn's book of stark black and white portraits of workmen wearing their everyday taken in the 1950s, stands as one of photography's masterpieces. "The dignity, the proud postures, the fiery spirit that he was able to capture: I was so inspired by it," said the serene Andreas Melbostad, Diesel Black Gold's creative director, before today's show. At that time, denim was just a humble, sturdy fabric, suited for the hard life—certainly it wasn't the uniform for cooler-than-cool hipsters, fashionable rock stars, and street-style gurus that it has become. "I wanted to bring back that original, modest yet noble vibe and elevate it in a contemporary way. Giving it cachet but steering clear from retro, vintage, or costumey interpretations; making it more abstract," the designer elaborated. Workwear influences were aptly integrated in the urban, utility-inspired lineup; streamlined and slimmed down, they made for a sharp silhouette. "I wanted a more precise look, less layered and more edited," said Melbostad. And edited it was, yet all of Diesel BG's staples were there, only with adjusted volumes and fine-tuned proportions. The emphasis was either on fitted tops paired with baggy parachute nylon pants or else, reversing the play, voluminous outerwear worn with extra-slim jeans with a crushed effect. Boxy kimono padded jackets referenced the crisp, immaculate shirts worn by chefs and waiters; raw, dark denim brought to mind the protective, tough quality of overalls, while aprons and jumpsuits called to mind butchers, fishmongers, or factory workers. All looked cool and lightly handled; yet a subtle emotional undercurrent could be felt, expressed in the color palette. An unusual nude-pink shade was added to blacks, indigos, and whites. "I wanted to give the show a more cinematic vibe, a bit of romance and poetry," Melbostad said. This gentle approach enhanced by contrast the strength of Diesel's DNA, which by the way is already quite strong; a little smoothing of the edges only added to its character. WWD Andreas Melbostad loosened up for spring, giving pants more leg room and tops a comfortable silhouette through kimono-inspired cuts. The latter were rendered as shirt-jackets in selvage blue denim or soft leather, and in one instance also came in a padded version, worn underneath a skinny that was matched with a pair of full- length, baggy jeans and karate belt. The hybrid theme continued on mixed media teddies, so light they passed for shirts. It felt good to see the designer warm up to more color, as well, which came through in a hushed palette of dirty, light pink and light safari beige. The powdery hues jibed well with this season’s utility staples, such as low-waisted cargo Bermuda shorts and multi- pocket wrap shirts. Blue and red stripes, meanwhile, infiltrated Diesel Black Gold’s spring uniform: fitted workwear jackets and voluminous, drop-crotch pants. The combination looked fresh and veered into a more modern territory. Wallpaper

Mood board: Diesel Black Gold is getting cleaner and cooler by the season in its new mission to elevate boy basics to greatness. Not only does the collection offer polished sportswear, but it gets the award for the season’s best-looking denim.

Best in show: The trousers this season in spotless dark denim, crisp khaki and white nylon were also right-on: their voluminous balloon silhouettes flooded in a pool around the models scrawny ankles and looked just right with snug flat workwear jackets. Also delicious was a whole segment in monotone dusty pinks, which is shaping up to be the men’s colour of the season.

Finishing touches: Rugged footwear grounded all of the voluminous lower halves. Cropped booties and gladiator-style high top all had thick black rubber soles ready to scamper across rocks or sprint down hot summer streets.

Read more at http://www.wallpaper.com/fashion/fashionweeks/menswear-ss-2017/milan/diesel- black-gold-ss-2017#98KKaC7qsdyteBTA.99 Personal Review

Andreas Melbostad made the denim in this collection look structured, yet relaxed. It was the perfect balance. Even with the different colors used, this collection was still very cohesive. Melbostad repeated a lot of the same pieces, but added something unique to each one. HOMME Vogue.com

Kris Van Assche, the rigorous Belgian who designs Dior Homme, erected a funfair at the center of the label’s Spring 2017 show. Why not? “It’s the Sinksenfoor,” said he, referencing an Antwerp institution. “When I was a kid in Antwerp, we used to love going to the funfair, all these new wave kids, these punk kids.”

But really, that funfair was a giant neon red-herring. Van Assche wasn’t about to clown it out, but rather used the flashing lights and helter-skeltering metal as a backdrop to a collection that was physically dark, if not metaphorically. It was all about the contrast.

Contrast is important to Van Assche. He rarely plays any inspiration straight and direct. Unearthing them all can feel like taking a turn on a topsy-turvy rollercoaster. This time, Van Assche oscillated between the aforementioned Punk and New Wave with sports elements which, he feels, are representative of today. There were also the tailored suits that Dior Homme originally built its menswear business on, and which are still demanded by plenty of clients. Those references were blended together, sometimes simultaneously into a single outfit. “A synthesis is more interesting than copying,” said Van Assche, by way of explanation.

You understand his point of view: why resurrect '80s fashions without any injection of today? And why limit your output when there’s a multitude of men, and markets, and interconnected needs and demands? Because another word for limit is focus, and mixing together multiple styles can wind up looking chaotic and over-designed. Van Assche fell foul of the latter when even the bread-and-butter suits of Dior came tricked out with D-rings, covered with metallic staples, or criss-crossed with sneaker looping through eyelets. Those were especially intricate and doubtlessly labor-intensive: but wearable, or modern? Not so.

Van Assche obviously wants to break free of the restrictions of tailoring. “There’s no need to put a classic suit on the stage,” he said beforehand, explaining his tailoring shorn of sleeves or teamed with gargantuan saggy skate pants, a hangover from Fall’s half-pipe-meets-haute couture story. The message is that the pin-neat Dior tailoring does exist, but Van Assche doesn’t feel the need to show off that strength. It’s not as crazy at it may first seem: it links, cannily, to a fall-off in the market for formalized menswear, particularly in key markets like China. It also explains a general shift towards sportswear—in this Dior show, the relative ease of bomber jackets and narrow jeans stood out as contemporary.

Suits versus sports is possibly the big story of menswear today. Van Assche’s clothes, lurching after an elusive fusion, wound up occupying a strange hinterland, not quite satisfying either. They also bear the label Dior, which comes at a hefty price, the kind of figures generally invested in plain-speaking clothes like a good suit, a leather jacket or a cashmere sweater. That’s not an argument against blurring boundaries, but Van Assche should ask himself who he’s really hoping to satisfy with his cross- pollination. His clients, or just himself? Fashion isn’t a fun fair, it’s a business. You want clothes at the end of the day, not to be taken for a creative ride. WWD The models zoomed through Dior Homme’s suspended roller-coaster set so swiftly that one would think they were on skateboards. And they wouldn’t have looked out of place riding them, even though many were wearing suits. “Takes on tailoring, but different,” designer explained backstage. “I’ve always liked to mix it with sportswear.” Just when one thought athletic influences were running out of breath, Dior Homme gave them a second wind — and they looked terrific, from the stripes running over the sleeves of two-button jackets to the tracksuit chevrons painted with a roller onto suit and coat sleeves. Van Assche also blended in references to punk, Goth and New Wave, among the musical camps when he was a fashion student at the Royal Academy of Art in Antwerp and its biggest amusement park was a magnet for all the cool kids. He didn’t hold back with the theme, riddling sleek black suits with staples; jagged Frankenstein stitching, or a messy tumble of red shoelaces threaded through grommets. Pants spawned utility pockets, D-rings or side stripes and assumed various guises: from skinny jeans to wide raver styles. Most clever of all were two finale banker suits — one skinny, one loose — each with pinstripes peeling away to become a rebellious fringe of errant threads. The designer also gave military bombers and fresh verve, adding chevrons here, a striped polo collar there. Sleek trench coats came with the sleeves hacked off, or sprouting a parka tail with drawstrings. Dior Homme’s campaign faces A$AP Rocky and Rob Pattinson were among VIP guests at the show, along with Karl Lagerfeld, who photographed the “Twilight” actor for the pre-fall campaign. The German designer, considered one of Dior Homme’s biggest clients, seemed bemused by the set and the collection. “I thought it was great — one of his best, if not the best,” Lagerfeld pronounced. Business of Fashion Sinksenfoor. Not exactly a word to set the pulse racing, even if it was the fairground ride that shaped Kris Van Assche’s new collection for Dior Homme. The ride, otherwise known as Decadence, was central to the experience of Van Assche and his fellow students at the Antwerp Academy — punks, goths, cool kids and miscreants of every stripe would hang out at the local fairground. You could picture all sorts of drug-soaked goings-on. And when Van Assche marched models well trussed in harnesses down his catwalk, the picture cleared. And yet, his collection was as clean and precise as ever. He talks about surrounding himself with crazy people as a kind of vicarious inroad to altered states of consciousness, but the chaos in Van Assche’s work is strictly controlled. That’s kind of a shame when he did so well with the little bits where he let himself go: the pinstripe that was unpicked into loose threads, the that collapsed into blurs, the zigzag DIY stitching on otherwise immaculate blazers. Van Assche’s thing is hybridized New Wave and sportswear. He said he was dealing with that college moment where he, as a rabid Cure fan, wasn’t one of the sporty kids who got all the girls. So now that he’s a fashion bigshot, he has set out to remedy the past. A sporty polo collar on a punky hand-painted red/black shirt? Take that, college boy. Which accounts for the schizoid quality in Van Assche’s work. He loves a skater pant, but there’s also the Gothic/romantic thing that has been part of his shtick from the very beginning of his career. Both in full effect with today’s collection, and still not fully reconciled. Japanese artist Toru Kamei contributed floral art work that, on closer inspection, had a creepy quality. Embroidered in patches on jackets and pants, it was the collection’s strong point. Much better than a cropped, baggy old skater pant. Personal Review

A lot of shows this season had heavy rock n roll influences, Dior Homme included. This collection gave off a slight military vibe, too. Neutral colors were used with vibrant pops of red. DOLCE & GABBANA Vogue.com

The place was a club called No Ties, the time was eons back in the mists of history (okay, the early 1980s), and the occasion was the first time Domenico Dolce ever met Stefano Gabbana. So, do the designers remember what the DJ was playing at the very moment they first locked eyes? “Sì! ‘Africa’ by Toto,” said Domenico Dolce, before presenting a collection that majored on a hard-to-resist medley of musical influence that featured some finely designed new-silhouette pieces and which was—as per— powerfully dosed with this label’s house-special blend of in-your-face Italianate pizzazz.

If "Africa" provided the musical amber that keeps Dolce and Gabbana’s first encounter forever pristine in their memory, today’s was delivered by The Hot Sardines. This New York jazz ensemble’s powerfully-tonsiled chanteuse Elizabeth Bougerol had all but the most blasé menswear followers nodding and applauding in between numbers. After two warm-up tunes, one with the intro line of “Boys, boys, boys” signaled the arrival of Presley Gerber in a lean and long-bodied black suit on a checked runway lined with ornate palm tree lanterns: the set was a sort of Jazz Age Sicilian speakeasy. Next up, post-Presley, was Rafferty Law in a saxophone-print bomber and shirt with cavalry flashed pants. These two members of the designers’ seminal- millennial guest list had been promoted from front row to center-stage, and they made fine front men.

As this almost 100-look collection unfolded it became clear this was a multi-genre ode to music and musicianship played out in cloth. The great boom box bags reflected the oversize street-sport shapes of linen silk pants, tees, and sweats painted in faux- naïf nightclub vignettes or sequined and patched with designer themed band patches. A gold jacquard palm tree evening jacket or a patched military majordomo outfit could have come from a ’50s swing band stage. Patched black leather jackets were hard rock, multicolored leather blousons with collegiate detail more soft rock. Like the selfie-snapping sexy tourists in the last womenswear campaign, many of these looks came accessorized with headphones and phone cases whose various motifs—from sequined cassette tapes to saxophones—were in tune with the rest. Single-letter alphabet rings spelled out D-A- N-C-E or L-O-V-E on the wearers’ knuckles.

Very discreetly, the designers sometimes sampled very specific elements of their own greatest hits, too; the oversized, top- stitched, and check-cuffed workers jacket teamed with flat and palm tree silk pants showed serious kinship with their earliest menswear collections. They also delivered some new top notes: A three-quarter-length pant was structured through three pleats that accordioned out from a single stitch just south of the greater trochanter. A series of polo-kaftan hybrids adapted from their Alta Moda collection that came in the recurring leopard and tiger animal prints were a new riff on two old standards.

The finale was a medley too, a patterned cacophony of silk shirting, fine gauge-knit, and silk linen tees in the recurring patterns of the collection, or a series of imagined posters for Southern Italian music festivals from way back when: Palermo Blues festival, Agrigento Mambo, Taormina Swing. Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti this was a Dolce & Gabbana menswear collection, turned up to 11. Business of Fashion

Summertime is party time for Dolce & Gabbana, and you need music for a party. That’s where Domenico and Stefano’s heads were at for their new collection: sounds we have known and loved. Or, as they listed them: “Jazz, blues, swing, mambo, pop, dance, hip hop, reggae.”

The live soundtrack for the show was provided by a finger-snappin’ octet (assuming that the tapdancer was part of the group) called the Hot Sardines, whose sound gelled well enough with the huge art deco lampstands that lined the catwalk. Maybe we were in some idealised nightspot in Dolce’s Sicily (Dancing in Palermo blared a t-shirt), but the collection itself roamed a little wider.

The monochrome graphics of legendary jazz label Blue Note’s record covers were reproduced in stylish black and white abstractions, printed on sweats, sequined on jackets. There was a shot of rave in a leopard-spot sweat. Palm Court suave was all over a tux lavishly sequined in gold with musical instruments. The visual motifs came thick and fast: palm trees, pineapples, saxophones, double-necked Gibsons.

There are voices in fashion that cry basta! about Dolce & Gabbana’s themed collections. When they first dived back into Sicily, those themes lifted the duo out of a rut. Now, as the world turns, novelty becomes cliché. After the spaghetti western menswear last season, one more cutesy embroidered appliqué would have been one too many. But such is the successful designer’s instinct that he knows when it’s time to change.

There will still be those who say this collection was excess in extremis. Look again. If a sequin mountain distilled to a monochrome sheen can count for restraint, then this one did, alongside the cool white tailoring and, surprisingly, an elegant handful of djellaba variants, which looked like just the trick for the long, hot summer which is steadfastly refusing to arrive.

The front row was stacked with tween idols, scions of fame — a Dallas, a Brant, a Jagger, Gerbers and a Law on the catwalk etc etc — which was a typically wilful Dolce & Gabbana nod to the moment. That was just plain funny. Those kids, these clothes? Hardy har har. Minus the wingy double-breasted waiters’ jackets, this was the most sophisticated collection the designers have shown for some time. It could well draw new followers to the fold. The ineffable cool of jazz rules. WGSN

There was a warm glow of nostalgia surrounding the Dolce & Gabbana catwalk in Milan on Sunday as the design duo sent out a collection that felt very 1940s-meets-1950s… but with an undeniably modern edge, too.

A celebration of Italy (rather than the usual Sicily-only focus) and the tourists who visited it in the years after WWII, the full skirted and smart beach looks came adorned with slogans such as ‘Italia Is Love’ as well as postcard-style landmarks from Pisa, Rome, Venice and more. As if that wasn’t enough, we also got prints based around Sorrento’s famous lemons, and a raft of embellished Italian florals.

This being 2015, we couldn’t avoid the modern world however – the models took selfies on the runway and backstage, the front row took selfies, the rest of the audience took selfies and almost everyone spent as much time tweeting and posting their picture on Instagram as they did looking at the runway action.

The critics loved it – while in many ways it felt like Dolce & Gabbana doing what the label does season after season, it seemed to work.

The FT called it “quite delicious” and it seemed to be the general consensus that will make customers feel good about spending their money with the label. Kerching! Personal Review

This show looked like a big, summertime jazz party. The musical embellishments with the tropical palm trees and pineapples reinforced this recurring theme. Although there were nearly one hundred looks in this show, each piece was unique and flowed together with the rest of the show. I really enjoyed this show. DRIES VAN NOTEN Vogue.com After last menswear season’s ecstatic explosion of time and place at the Palais Garnier opera house—for which this critic totally dropped his shopping—it was surely nearly impossible for Dries Van Noten to up the impactful ante. And he didn’t. Because how could he? That was a thing never to be repeated. But that’s not to say that this wasn’t gold or at the very least silver on the podium of most entrancingly beguiling collections of the season so far. Because it was. Just look at the pictures. Dries Van Noten is one of the very few designers who defies the giddy winsomeness of this business to churn out collections which, again and again, make you feel like you are reading poetry which you are slightly too ill-educated to understand, yet with which you connect and feel the propensity to emotionally travel. Luckily for this yahoo, the mild-mannered maestro himself was in particularly disposing mien post-show, and provided guidance. He said: “For me I wanted to do a new take on Arts and Crafts. When you think about Kelmscott Manor and Rossetti and Burne-Jones, they came together—making craft also art. And for me it was also like a challenge to find a new way of embellishment. All those palettes and embroideries that we used in the past I didn’t want to use, so I tried to find new elements in volumes, in shapes, and in putting fabrics together. So I looked a lot at fabric art, to textile artists who were very active in the ’60s and ’70s and in whom there is now a new interest.” The handmade sweaters strafed with the explicitly analogue skeins of their creation were central here. Silk print jackets were drawn from late-Enlightenment-era naif botanicals. We shifted from there future- wards through the reverential 19th century and into the mass industrial 20th via subverted camouflage. The quiet rebellion of the closing looks, when all-blue replaced patterned chaos was a dressed-down reminder of this designer’s way with silhouette and cut. Look at the jeans-on-deans print joke on that denim: This was one of the few collections where one felt eternal writing would lead to the same ultimate conclusion: Yes please, Dries. WWD

Dries Van Noten’s knack for old mansions and their lavish gardens has inspired more than one of his collections, and this season followed a similar pattern. “An imagined view from Kelmscott Manor [the country home of writer William Morris] on arts and crafts today,” the notes to his show informed. That translated into romantic visuals based on photo prints of floral tapestry and tonal patchworks.

Belted trenchcoats and high-waisted full-length pants, some of which had enough leg-room to fit two in, were familiar categories but still compelling ones — the type that have blessed the designer with a loyal following. There was a whiff of soft military, too, as the prints gradually grew into camouflage patterns, as seen on cropped carrot pants and utility jackets. To contrast, it was unclear where the designer was heading with a series of outerwear options boasting long fringy tassels, clearly inspired by Kelmscott’s noble interior but which would be unlikely to jibe with the cool kids on the streets.

Van Noten was at his best when he played with hybrid looks: Rendering tank tops as knitted sweaters minus the sleeves, or mixing panels of tapestry prints with metallic technical fabrics to produce sporty-cool jackets. The juxtaposition between smooth surfaces and rough, unfinished constructions, meanwhile, has been a growing trend this season. Business of Fashion

The Bercy backstage area was so hot the walls were running with sweat, but Dries Van Noten was generating his own heat, so excited was he by the collection he’d just shown. There’s always something deeply personal about what he does, but this one seemed to be particularly special to him. “Anti-industrial!” he enthused. “It’s a sign of the times in fashion, it’s the idea of contemporary arts and crafts, it’s about my place in the industry. We’re looking at the small things.”

Van Noten is a true designer — maybe even old school — in his passion for his craft, and this collection brought him back to the stuff that human hands make, with all its beautiful imperfections. Like the invitation, a small ceramic square, or the wealth of artisanal detail in the clothes, or the organic, raw materials.

Thick denim fringing swung from a bomber jacket, more fringing featured knots of macramé and tapestry tops came undone in a frenzy of unfinishedness. And a photoprint of patchworked denim was anchored by gorgeous calligraphy, courtesy of a young St Petersburger named Pokras . That was the kind of decoration that took the place of Van Noten’s more usual embroidery or splatter of sequins.

The designer was inspired by a vision of a utopian 19th century community devoted to aestheticism. Arcane though the inspiration may have been, Van Noten anchored it in sportswear: t-shirts, oversized sweats, baggy skate shorts, draped in the drama of a coat, and a lot of it photo-printed with images from old tapestries.

The colours were muted, adding a worn quality to the clothes. Those tapestry prints started to look like baroque camo after a while as a repetitive element crept into the presentation. But, in a season where exaggerated volume has become a major statement, Van Noten showed deep-pleated, Oxford baggish trousers that looked pretty desirable.

His backdrop was a wall of headlights, created 30 years ago by the street theatre company Royal de Luxe. Van Noten first saw it a decade ago in Antwerp. Today, it blazed out at the finale in a testament to repurposing the old and used- up. Dries said he was doing the same thing with his own back pages in this collection: old ideas revisited with new craft. The lift that notion needed never came. But a groundwork was definitely laid for whatever comes next. Personal Review

The designer for this collection used his models as a canvas and painted them with clothing. The patterns and colors on the clothing looked like a real painting, to me. This was another collection with baggy, oversized clothing. DSQUARED2 Vogue.com Let’s start at the bottom. Those platforms represented 6 inches of lift and came in silver paneled black calfskin or spangled with star paillettes. They were giddy and Ziggy and got the audience giggly. Dean and Dan Caten said backstage that the footwear had defined their casting for this show. “We really have to hand it to them. The first thing we did at the casting was to make them try the shoes. And if they could walk in them, then we dressed them, then they got the show.” With the rare exception of one or two guys who gingerly relied on glutes over core to maintain mastery of the floor, most of these models managed their Bowie-boots with great grace. Above them they wore a highly worked montage of masculine youth tribes drawn from the Catens’ country of residence, Great Britain, which were made capital-F Fabulous by those boots and their lavishness of fabrication. So we had / tank tops and bleach-splattered tight denim heaped with jewelry. The favorite fishtail parka came in a paillette-rendered camouflage, as did combats and bombers. Under porkpie hats the checkerboard motif of 2 Tone ska was played out in lush satin. A string vest spattered with Swarovski was bitchily butch. A jacquard of daisies in pink dotted silver Lurex was military-subversive. “This is also a celebration of our homosexuality,” said the designers. At the finale they wore those platforms, thigh high, to take their bow—“we have to because we are already dwarves and those boys are towering over us”—and garlanded themselves in rainbow ribbons as an expression of solidarity for violated Orlando. WWD

It was a spirited start to the Milan men’s season on Friday night, as Dsquared2 kicked off the five- day fashion circuit with some good old “butch glam.” “Urban tough guy meets glam rocker,” is how designers Dean and Dan Caten described their spring effort, which from the beginning carried one message and carried it loud: life comes in a rainbow of colors. Taking cues from David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust, the twins reached deep into the glitter box, sending out a bunch of rebel punks turned disco queens to the sound of Blondie’s “Atomic” pumping from the loudspeakers. They wore lurex knitted tank tops and studded biker jackets on top of the label’s trademark distressed jeans or cropped bell bottoms, which in either case were matched with vertiginous platform boots sprinkled with black, silver, red or pink sequins. If the styling was challenging, walking proved just as arduous to this gang of tough guys — pierced lips, heavy chain colliers, thick leather bands and all. But put the tongue-in-cheek coloring and flashy accessories aside, and in came some serious outerwear options, with mixed-media teddies and fishtail parkas as the stars. One item was literally a patchwork of influences: cue technical bomber sleeves sewn to the front of a denim jacket that featured a flat leather perfecto lapel. Going against conventions is what a fashion statement is about. For the grand finale, the twins strutted down the runway in their signature skinny jeans and platform cuissards sparkling in black and silver, their rainbow-colored nonchalantly flying off the sides. Read the not so subtle fine print: It’s about being who you are and showing it, too. Business of Fashion

Given fashion’s intractable production schedules, you could scarcely expect a quick response to the horror of this week’s mass murder in Orlando, but Dean and Dan Caten showed solidarity with their rainbow scarves at show’s end, a kind of coming out for them.

And, in an unwitting way, the clothes they offered also broadcast a response. “Glam butchness,” Dean declared. A sequined jacket with silver leather pants certainly nailed that look. If his comment was typically throwaway, there was a germ of truth in the fact that the platform-booted boys marching down the catwalk scarcely looked like anyone you’d want to tangle with. Those glitter boots were made for kickin’, even if the guys wearing them were reduced to an uncomfortable mince. They needed Dean and Dan in crystallised thigh-highs to show them how it was really done when they stalked the catwalk at the finale.

And that, in turn, crystallised the problem with this show. The Catens are always looking for ways to elevate their core product — jeans, bomber jackets, tailored blazers — and they have become supremely accomplished at mounting spectacles that do just that. But tonight felt off.

A lot of that was to do with the hobbled awkwardness of the boys in their platform bovver boots. But there was also an overly literal feeling to the collection: a tightly fitted check shirt paired with splatter-bleach jeans was all but un=reconstituted skinhead. Maybe that's what Dean meant by "glam butchness," but the collision of British youth cults on the Catens' catwalk — mod, skins, glam — missed the winning wit and verve that are the label's long-time signatures. Personal Review

“Urban tough guy meets glam rocker.” This quote by the designers Dean and Dan Caten is the perfect summary for this collection. This collection had a very polished and fashionable, punk rock look. I could see someone wearing this look on the L , making their way over to Brooklyn. EMPORIO ARMANI Vogue.com There’s a great scene in American Psycho—the book, not the film—where the antihero Patrick Bateman argues, above the throbbing music of a U2 concert no less, what precisely differentiates Emporio from plain Armani. The grays of Emporio, he says, are muted and so are the taupes and navys. “Definite winged lapels, subtle plaids, polka dots, and stripes are Armani. Not Emporio.” That’s interesting because it taps into what Giorgio Armani was thinking about for this Emporio show: identity. He demarcated the opening and closing look with a fingerprint, kind of like the touch recognition icon on an iPhone. As that American Psycho passage testifies, Armani’s identity is one of the best-established in the fashion canon, albeit one of the subtlest. And the most important thing you can have in fashion right now is an identity. Amongst a surfeit of product, that’s what will encourage consumers to eschew other brands offering similar stuff, at similar price points, manufactured in the same factories, and choose you over them. Giorgio Armani has an identity that has helped to shape our modern perception of menswear. It proves so potent that he’s spun out multiple iterations—his main line, Collezioni, Jeans, EA7, and Emporio, the oldest bar his eponymous label. This Emporio collection was looking to define the code and substance of the brand, which has changed somewhat since Patrick Bateman so vehemently defined it in the early ’90, but not all that much. There were still muted grays and navys, the latter more than the former; indeed, it dominated this show. As always, there was a plurality—Armani never demands his man go naked outside of the boardroom or gymnasium, instead proposing clothes for every facet of life. The sportswear was the flashiest, or at least as flashy as Armani ever gets, imprinted with those forensic fingertip markings or with facets of the Armani eagle logo, blown vastly out of proportion to render it almost abstract. Bags were embroidered with military patches, another means of identity. The collection was best when Armani considered what the Emporio identity should be right now, when he imbued his suiting with the lightness of sportswear, offering papery in his signature subtle beiges, simple sweaters, and the wide easy trousers so emblematic of his style, but that seem to be cropping up all over this season. You could imagine the lethally chic Bateman taking to them with aplomb. WWD

At a time when “there is a lot of confusion” and emphasizing one’s identity is a priority, Giorgio Armani has a clear opinion on going coed: He isn’t. “It’s difficult in terms of technical timing, and imagine the number of buyers we would have to accommodate,” said the designer after his Emporio Armani show on Monday morning.

He explained that he has shown both sexes on the runway from early on, and that he would “really love” it, as it would simplify his schedule —“I’d just pack and go on vacation,” he said, but he added that he does “not feel like doing it.”

With his usual open manner, Armani underscored that he “hates it when everyone [designs] the same things,” ironically praising Versace, for example — a house whose style he has criticized in the past — for having its own recognizable look. Likewise, he lamented how sometimes customers take the easy way out and buy a logoed bag — Hermès was his example — without showing any personality in trying to differentiate and style their own look.

Asked about the business, Armani, who is also chairman of his namesake company, said that the first five months of the year are “holding up” in all countries around the world and he confirmed the 4 percent gain seen at the end of 2015 also for the first part of the year. As reported, the company posted a 4.5 percent increase in revenues last year to 2.65 billion euros, or $2.94 billion, at average exchange rates.

Ahead of the show, French free-diving champion Guillaume Néry said he was headed for the Galapagos this summer, with more underwater filming in mind. “They are more about humans in the frame, not documentaries [about fish],” said Néry. Naughty Boy’s music video for “Runnin’ (Lose It All)” that was released last year, in which Néry appeared, has reached nearly 200 million views, he marveled.

“I just wrote a book [‘Profondeur,’ or ‘Depth’] that was also translated in Italian,” said Néry. “I am working on a second book,” he added.

Throngs of Chinese fans gathered outside the Armani Theater waiting for actor and singer Hu Ge. “I am working on a stage drama, ‘A Dream of a Dream,’ in Beijing. I am a patient with two years left to live, trying to find an answer to why [this is happening],” said Ge. Business of Fashion

The subject of identity is crucial in our age of both digital homogenisation and the resurgence of ancient fears. Fashion plays on the edge: on one side it ignites fearless and fierce style- individualism; on the other it promotes conformism. Ever the pragmatist, Giorgio Armani, for his Emporio Armani collection, simply explored his very own identity as a designer, hopefully also offering customers clothes simple enough to be adapted to their own identities. It's the usual Armani formula, in the usual Emporio urban/metropolitan mold, but it is always effective.

The designer is at his best when he goes fuss-free and concept-free, and the collection worked exactly for this reason. The giant fingerprint motif was maybe a tad too literal, and the odd touches of decoration — embroidered patches, a smattering of feathers — not very necessary, but, for the rest, the succession of soft, simple pieces had charm. It was a testament to the work of a designer whose aim, in his own words, is to produce things that "do not embarrass." Personal Review

This show was another collection that had close to one hundred pieces in it. Unlike many of the other shows this season, this collection was very masculine looking. I appreciate Armani not jumping on the unisex trend, and staying true to the brand’s style. While the styles are all fairly similar, each piece varied in color. Muted, dark colors were used for this show, creating an overall sleek look. Vogue.com

Pablo Picasso was clearly one of the great artistic forces of the 20th century, as well as being an enthusiastic pursuer of passion. His third important yet-often overlooked attribute was his fondness for terry cloth. Pictures of Pablo wearing his favorite towelling shorts on the Côte d’Azur were central to Silvia Venturini Fendi’s mood board inspiration today, as were shots of Dalí, Hockney, and Albert Einstein also enjoying their holidays. Einstein, in particular, had genius resort game: he wore his polo rucked up just so, his terry shorts mid-thigh, and a pair of devastating peep-toe sandals.

All of this added up to an overwhelmingly easy collection shot through with eureka moments of eclectic quirk. That terry, or “sponge” as Fendi termed it, came through in some marvelous cabana coats, striped tees, and Picasso tribute shorts. It was used as the white in a blue and brown paint-striped jacket that appeared to be shearling but wasn’t. Conversely, the inserts at the shoulder panel of a blue and yellow deckchair striped trucker jacket looked like terry but were fur. These sleights of hand reflected the more pragmatic reversibility of brown leather and white silk jackets and coats that could be worn one way or the other. Accessories included beefy bags with Dalí-esque but Fendi-fied face pattern patches. The patterns were rich: Some nylon pieces near the end with multicolor waves that ran a spectrum from yellow to purple via green and violet were, said Fendi, “like after a drink.” Woozy, boozy, but shot through with focused creativity, this collection made as much of a splash as the painting its set was built to remind you of. WWD

Is there anything more carefree than the beach, or a backyard pool? The mood board backstage had Albert Einstein on the beach, his ending in open-toed, ladylike sandals — and David Hockney next to the bathtub in a bumblebee shirt.

“Sun and fun,” Silvia Venturini Fendi said backstage, wearing a pajamalike shirt in the same painterly stripes she applied to tote bags and cabana shirts that reversed to white terrycloth. She was waiting for someone to ask her if the latter fluff was shearling.

Not a chance, for this was a breezy, unapologetically summery collection that climaxed with fluttering silk pants and botanical print blousons.

There was a mid-century spirit to the boxy blousons in micro checks, the quilted shirt jackets and the belted terrycloth coats, bringing to mind Don Draper up to his usual shenanigans at the Sherry-Netherland hotel.

Models circled the periphery of an elongated bright blue lap pool set, feet shod in slides and lugging a range of weekenders and totes in stripes that Fendi revived from the Seventies. The Roman house also debuted its first men’s eyewear collection in collaboration with Safilo, including round retro-inspired shades. Business of Fashion Silvia Venturini Fendi’s moodboard was a thing of consoling wonder for a plumptious middle- aged man. Here were porky Picasso, kooky Dali, a cheerful Albert Einstein in seriously unflattering short shorts and a protuberant tum, each and every one of them unabashedly enjoying summer in who-cares outfits. “Complex people, simple clothes,” said Silvia. And that was the notion she ran with for her new collection. “Sun, fun, Fendi. The set was a David Hockney pool, with a Fendi diving board. Realised rather well, actually, because there was enough that was surreal about the setting to match Silvia’s conviction that normality is just as potent as eccentricity. On that moodboard, she also had copies of watercolours by Tim Gardner, an American artist who manages to paint banality with such hyperreal precision that it becomes surreal. How can a man do that with watercolour? How does Silvia Fendi jiggle menswear just enough that you’re scratching your head. She loves that, of course. We’ve said it before and we’ll go on saying it till the end of time — or the end of Fendi. Nothing is what it seems. With the winter collection, Silvia toyed with shearling. Here, there was a summer version, terrycloth, in cabana boy tops and jackets, but she sneaked some real shearling into a striped , its fuzzy hem the giveaway. The grass green Mongolian lamb parka wasn’t remotely ambiguous but its extravaganza was chilled by shorts and pool slides. A Fendi collection has to have some technical extraordinariness. With this one, Silvia said everything was reversible, even the hats. It never feels forced. That’s the joy of Fendi. “This is a day at the beach,” she said. “Basically my weekend.” Personal Review

This collection gave off a relaxed beach vibe. The layering was done very nicely. I enjoyed the clean look of the vertical stripes. This is another very wearable collection. GIORGIO ARMANI Vogue.com

Three’s a trend. After Prada and Gucci devoted their Spring 2017 menswear shows to modern journeymen, Giorgio Armani titled his Crossing Borders. A trail of lights illuminated an imaginary path into the distance. In isolation, it’s unusual, because Giorgio Armani is remarkable as the most Milanese of designers—he wasn’t born here, but his earliest fashion experience was, in the windows of the city’s La Rinascente department store. More than his own geographical location, it’s the ethos of Armani that feels Milanese, a breed of minimalism indebted to rationalism. Hence, whenever Armani globe-trots, it is seen through very specific eyes.

In actual fact, sometimes the Armani label can seem a country unto itself. It can never be forgotten that the fragmented identity of comes from a country only unified from disparate states and courts in the late 19th century. Even then, it took almost 60 years. Before then, warring factions and wealthy dynasties—the Medici, the Sforza, the Borgias— controlled their own fiefdoms. Not so different from, say, the fighting between the families Ferré, Versace, and indeed Armani back in the 1980s, jostling for the supremacy of the prosperous contemporary kingdom of Milanese fashion.

The rites and rituals of the duchies of Italian fashion are as diverse as their liveries—but they all uniformly worship their leaders. Donatella Versace and Miuccia Prada elicit whoops and cheers as they bow at the close of their runway presentations; today, it took the mere presence of Giorgio Armani’s face on a sweater for the loyal factions to erupt in thunderous applause. You wonder what visitors to the State of Armani—today, actor Kevin Spacey and Latin musician Ricky Martin—make of the whole spectacle.

Like any ruler, Armani quashes discussion of dynastic succession—there are enough stories of the vengeful assassinations of Roman emperors to discourage anyone from talking about who may be ruling the empire in his stead. So instead, Armani continues, designing clothes after his much-imitated template, a template that revolutionized menswear way back when and now has settled into easy familiarity.

For the second time this week, after his Emporio show, Armani emphatically reiterated his style codes—his bleached-out, subdued palette of colors; the relaxed silhouette, with jackets hugging but never gripping the body. Looking not for novelty but for continuation. The injection of not only a sportswear feel but actual honest-to-goodness sporty items into this, Armani’s more formal main line, perhaps showed a bowing to a new, 21st-century definition of relaxed, where a nylon parka rather than a dropped linen shoulder spells casual. The shoes crossbred a technical sneaker sole with a suede moccasin, crossing borders between formal and casual.

Armani saw the Caribbean in his whorling geometric motifs scrolling through jacquard knitwear. I couldn’t. Perhaps that’s because Armani looks out—from his runway, from his backstage, from shirts on his models’ backs—and we look in. He sees the world in his shows. We see only Giorgio Armani. Business of Fashion

Travel has been a theme over menswear's long weekend in Milan, so it was appropriate that Giorgio Armani, the closing act, sealed the subtext with a collection he called Crossing Borders. That activity has been fraught with peril for hundreds of thousands of people in recent years. While it seems unlikely Armani was acknowledging their situation, there was a perverse synchronicity in the fact that he showed clothes whose worn-out fabrics, washed-out colours and slightly Chaplinesque proportions — shrunken jackets, baggy pants — suggested men always having to move, hobo bag in hand, making the most of what little they've got. A kind of fashion Arte Povera, in other words (or as Povera as the odd flash of croc would allow).

And it was really rather beautiful. There was a lightness, an airiness, a kind of sun-drunk carelessness that was sensual, and seductive with it. Even the leathers were washed till they had the worn crinkle of old linen. A mosaic pattern was repeated throughout the collection. It added to the impression that we were somewhere hot, dry, off the beaten track. Armani has always fared surprisingly well in such environments. Reachable only by boat? You might safely assume they're the places that are closest to his heart. WWD Full of fluid, airy fabrics — and zero padding at the shoulder — Giorgio Armani’s latest collection was aimed at a changing customer. “Men need less structured clothing today. Their bodies have changed — and improved — and I also think they’re a lot more daring in the way they dress,” said the designer, whose array of laid- back, deconstructed tailoring was in step with the season’s overall mood. Trousers came in carrot and wide-leg shapes — some so breezy they could have doubled as pajama bottoms — and were done in swooshy silk, cotton and linen. Some were printed, their patterns inspired by painted wall tiles in the Caribbean, while others came in solid tones of distressed or sun-faded gray, powder or denim blue and dark red. Armani admitted that some of the widest trousers weren’t for him — “not really appropriate at 82,” he deadpanned backstage, adding the silhouette was nonetheless important this season. “It’s the counterpoint to those asphyxiating cigarette pants,” said the designer, adding his priorities were clean lines and lots of movement. He balanced the trousers’ volumes with a host of snug jackets in featherweight linen, knit, textured cotton and seersucker. Some were cropped and boxy with a workwear feel. Others had patch pockets in a nod to safari styles, while still others doubled as shirts, as in one with a faded windowpane check. Armani’s nod to evening came in a lineup of dark blue jackets with black lapels and wide trousers. It was an elegant segment, and there will no doubt be a host of men out there prepared to hang up their skinny trousers and exhale. Personal Review

With a relaxed look, muted colors, and a masculine vibe, Armani reinforced the brand’s overall style for this season following the Emporio Armani show. This collection is perfect for the stylish man who is always on the go. Vogue.com

Is Riccardo Tisci, designer of some of the most assertive, even threatening, menswear in the world, mellowing? “I’ve been in a really good place,” he allowed backstage, after a Spring 2017 Givenchy show that, while peopled with warrior-like models, hulking in combat gear, somehow sounded a note of affection rather than aggression.

It was long due. Givenchy’s menswear has been dark and foreboding for many a season: Last Spring Tisci erected his own prison; Fall was a vipers’ den. Emblematic of fashion? You hope not. Today’s collection was “much more spiritual,” allowed Tisci. “And happy! Images of sunshine!” He sounded as surprised as we were. Staged in the open air, there was an almost karmic lightness to flyaway, zippered panels at the hips, or nylon sportswear falling open into panes that seemed to effervescently lift up and away from the body. The sunshine was quite literal, too, refracted off multiple mirrors embroidered across hems, looping peplums, and tramlining zips. Those were a nod to Givenchy’s haute couture—Tisci added his Fall showing to his men’s, tagging on 13 slender couture looks to the end of his stream of butched-out, beefed-up, macho-man militia gear.

The aforementioned doubtless sells—it’s something Tisci is required to produce, by the business’s suits and by his fan base. It’s not really a chore: He certainly enjoys designing clothes that emphasize masculinity, squaring the shoulder and puffing out the chest. This time, that was most effectively achieved by multiple zippered pockets, some attached to the coats, others strapped into a Desert Strike harness—a spin-off from a backpack that could oddly make viable commercial sense. Three times the space to store your junk, after all.

Haute couture is known as the great paradox of fashion—it’s indicative of a house’s heavyweight credentials as a moneymaker, by the very fact it doesn’t make money. You know Tisci’s mirror-embroidered pieces will cost a king’s ransom, but they aren’t meant to sell in any great quantities. The other key decorative motif in the collection was a graphic morphing camouflage with dollar bill imagery—printing money. That’s what that grab bag of sportswear pieces undoubtedly spell for Givenchy, even if you couldn’t silence the niggling feeling that digital print has had its day, certainly as an exciting runway statement.

Although they’re often center stage, and always front-of-house in the salesroom, the immediately identifiable Givenchy graphics have never been the sum total of Tisci’s aesthetic. They’re simply the ones that are easiest read. The sum total is, actually, precisely that: no single style or item, but in the entirety of his fashion vision, and how adroitly he’s fashioned his Givenchy man. As the models filed past, there was no danger of thinking that this collection had come from the hand of another designer.

Tisci’s shows are specific and distinctive, uncompromising and unapologetic. They’re entirely true to his vision, and his vision is, after over a decade at the helm, intrinsically tied with maison Givenchy. There’s a comfort, a happiness even, to that kind of security. Given the uncertainties of current designer firings and hirings, and the number of houses swirling without distinct leadership, surely there’s no better place for Tisci to be right now than here, at Givenchy, doing his thing. WWD Given the shock of the Brexit vote that coincided with day three of the Paris men’s shows, it was hard not the think of roiling currencies watching Givenchy’s parade of military parkas in greenback prints that approximated camouflage. Shame on us because Riccardo Tisci had something more lofty in mind. “Spirituality, seeing with your third eye,” he said backstage. “Money sometimes makes us forget that.” Overcharged with busy prints — plus zippers and utility pockets galore — this was no zen statement. “It was more like a trip in a spiritual way,” Tisci said. The boredom of the one-hour-plus wait — blamed on last-minute alterations — created a sense of anticlimax that at first was hard to shake, but the open-air show in a vast schoolyard was ultimately mesmerizing in its flurry of pattern, panels peeling off at the solar-plexus chakra and round mirrors glinting from the hems of polo shirts or the waists of chic black coats. Like Miuccia Prada in Milan, Tisci rigged his models for some kind of journey, backpacks laden with blankets — or split into three laptop-sized pouches attached to a harness. The pants, as loose and flowing as sweat pants and often licked with stripes, gave the collection an athletic aspect — as did the chunky, graphic hiking sneakers. While the checkerboard patterns skewed a bit close to ’s Damier check, Tisci said the reference was games. “The game of life,” he mused. The designer once again embedded his fall 2016 couture collection in his men’s showcase, leapfrogging the high fashion season by more than a week. Goddess with elaborate pleats and draping, at times approximating fancy icing, stood out in their monochrome simplicity, animated here and there with silvery or mirrored embroideries. Tisci’s message at a delicate juncture for Europe seemed clear: It’s time for reflection. Business of Fashion Who would expect spiky social comment from Riccardo Tisci? He blew up the patterns on a dollar bill until they looked like camo and that made a body wonder if he was saying that the evil that men do hides behind money. Well, we already know that. “It’s always about the price of everything,” Tisci declared backstage. “Humans forget about reality, sensibility, soul.” So we can chalk this collection up to his recent acquaintance with serenity. Our elusive third eye was Tisci’s motif du jour, encased in a pyramid as it is in the Masonic symbol on the USA’s currency. “No, no Masons,” he countered quickly. At a stretch, you could say there was something serene about most of the 13 couture looks he showed at the end of the show. Natalia Vodianova looked like a Delphic oracle. But that only made a stark contrast with the militant 50-plus men’s looks that preceded her. “That’s always me,” Tisci conceded. In other words, his discovery of serenity had little impact on the hyper-sexualised butchness that usually defines his men’s collections. What was new this time was all the zipped-on bits and pieces, the -like extensions to the silhouette, the pockets, the backpacks, everything amplifying the notion of a man on the move, carrying his home on his back. “Like me,” said Tisci. “I’m never home. I’m not being asked to do accessories, I just like doing them.” It all made for a collection that felt tortured, layer-upon-layer overwrought. The killer look was a sweatshirt unzipped over a wifebeater, casually, confidently louche. And so simple that it had a blazing clarity amidst all the over-styled, hyper-detailed stuff that surrounded it. But that’s not what Tisci’s fans want. Personal Review

Each piece in this collection had so much detail to it. Everything that went down the runway was so unique. Riccardo Tisci showed womenswear with the menswear this season, but waited until the end of the show to exhibit the womenswear. The womenswear reflected the menswear, but the menswear was still much more masculine. I like that Tisci kept the menswear and womenswear completely separate. GUCCI Vogue.com

The notion of travel is emerging as something of a fixation for the Spring 2017 menswear season. Maybe it’s the current state of endless fashion flux, caused by the stretch of the peripatetic Resort collections. Eighteen days ago, Alessandro Michele was in London unveiling his own for Gucci in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey, traveling to Rome the next day to oversee this, his final stand-alone menswear show. “I hate to travel,” he confessed backstage. How strange for one involved in fashion, for whom travel, if not always physical, is certainly ideological, from idea to idea, aesthetic to aesthetic.

The latest Gucci collection, then, was about the dream of travel rather than its actuality. “You can travel in different ways,” mused Michele. “With a book, you can travel. If I change the tapestry of my chair, I sit and I travel.” Presumably that also applies to your clothing; change into a jacket scrolled with Asiatic embroideries, with dragons or tigers or even Disney characters, and you’re dressed in a different place. Or maybe a different time.

The 13th-century travelogue of Marco Polo, Il Milione, was a reference Michele threw out backstage. The veracity of Polo’s travels to Cathay and Manji, now comprising China, have been much challenged, his visions credited to the fabulosity of his imagination rather than the accuracy of his reporting. Michele can be accused of the same, which is no matter. The fabulosity of Michele’s clothes, scrambling place and time, can be seen as his own imaginary travelogue, a fantasy of the foreign, colliding cultures, mixing references, and creating a hybrid that speaks of the here and now.

That’s an interesting notion. Michele emblazoned clothes with the slogan Modern Future. Which was ironic, given the retrospective slant constantly evident in his designs. He said backstage that they were words he didn’t understand. Which was ironic in another way, because for many what Michele is doing at Gucci is the future. For instance, his habit of showing menswear mixed with womenswear, and vice versa, is causing a shift that may prove to be seismic. Other designers have followed suit, folding their men’s shows into women’s. There is obviously a budgetary element, although as Gucci is on course to top 4 billion euros in revenue this year, it’s probably not as huge a consideration as you’d think. Creatively, it makes perfect sense for Michele. And probably will for other designers too, given that the other part of a Gucci show—the actual garments, that magpie trawl through eras and aesthetics—has become the defining fashion look of the moment. Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery.

Talking about the overall clothing Gucci shows these days feels futile: You either devote it too little space or too much. You can’t easily summarize a coat, say, that combines the all-American embroidery of Donald Duck with a Japonism Hokusai scene, cut like a swaggering officer’s greatcoat, especially when it’s preceded by a military braided cheongsam jacket and followed by a beaded bomber atop bleached-out punk jeans. Polo, to his dying day, declared of his Asiatic travels: “I did not tell half of what I saw.” You feel the same reviewing a Gucci show amid the struggle to record the multiple textures, treatments, and ideas crammed into each presentation. And it’s nigh impossible to connect those disparate looks to one another. Michele probably doesn’t even want you to. He’s a champion of the individual, and while no man is an island, Michele’s outfits each stand alone, like fragments of a national from some forgotten land. This time there were at least a few sailors, too, to rig the whole thing, sporadically, together.

The lush jade green of the venue, glowing, resembled vegetation, as if Michele’s men were emerging from the midst of an exotic jungle or some celadon-lined seraglio. Ultimately, it’s not about the actual garments but about that, about the image that results from the whole thing and its seductive power. Polo claimed he had witnessed world wonders that, probably, never existed, the unicorn being a good example. But his imagination was so rich and fertile, he got Europe to buy it. Michele’s doing the same. Like all great explorers, it’s guaranteed that many more will follow him. But remember, he got there first. WWD

“I hate to travel,” Alessandro Michele confessed backstage after another sensory overload of a Gucci show. “You don’t have to take a plane. You can just get on the subway.”

One can imagine Michele only has to close his eyes to take a trip, imagining sailors, Ivy Leaguers, maître d’s in China — or even Donald Duck, a favorite character from his childhood who often assumed a sailor guise and had that itch to discover the world.

All of those characters, plus geeks galore, populated his spring runway — this season a giant snake carpet laid out in a vast, lime green room that shuddered as the stirring Sarah Neufeld reached a crescendo.

If the collection succeeded, it’s because one could feel the sincerity of Michele’s eccentric, decorative impulses as he splashed floral and dragon embroideries across suits, silk robes and varsity jackets, along with affecting slogans like “Blind for Love.” His sailor sweater with a bandanna motif, and Donald Duck souvenir jackets, are bound to trump many other collections in the streetstyle sweepstakes next season.

Michele eased up — slightly — on the embellishment front, opening the show with a spare, ladylike coat in a verdant shade one might see on Queen Elizabeth. It was paired with cropped pants in a dusty, thrift-shop pink, lace and loafers.

He also tempered the androgyny a touch, including shorts and pants with boxer and baseball airs, and groovy bleached jeans like the ones Jared Leto wore, sitting front row with his ramrod posture next to English singer Olly Alexander.

As always, Michele included about a dozen women’s looks, parading familiar granny dresses and a tiered topped with a black with “modern future” written in a heavy-metal script. Styled with hats or sculptural hair, these exits were strong and almost overwhelmed a solid men’s effort.

Starting next year, Gucci plans to show men’s and women’s collections together. It will be interesting to see how Michele navigates that maiden voyage. Business of Fashion

“I hate travel,” said homebody Alessandro Michele after showing a Gucci collection that was, he said, inspired by journeys. It must be easy to be a homebody when you weekend somewhere as extraordinary as the medieval village of Civita di Bagnoregio. But Michele also acknowledged that travel helps you better understand the importance of the place you come back to — and that may not be where you actually live. “Gucci is my home too,” the designer added.

Michele had more to say about home, telling in the light of Miuccia Prada’s statements last night. “People want to go home because they’re scared,” he said. “I want to make them so comfortable they can wear slippers in the street. The whole world is their home.” Looking around at the audience, there were enough people wearing Michele’s slip-ons, fur-lined or otherwise, to lend his statement real weight.

And that might have accounted for why so much of his new collection had a curious domestic feel: as exotic as ever, but with a silken pajama-y lounginess that called for cushions on the floor, smoky interiors (the vivid green of the venue today was slightly misted), someone reading aloud, from a travel diary perhaps, while a captive audience lolled in a heightened state of (un)consciousness, to Steve Mackey’s blissful soundtrack of piano, violin and muted noise from the streets outside this hermetic world.

Even more mesmerising than the renaissance of Serapis under the Gucci umbrella was the presence of Donald Duck.

Purest escapism, travelling in the mind – that’s the kind of journey Michele can manage, which puts you in mind of Jean Des Esseintes, the central character in Against Nature, Joris-Karl Huysmans’ decadent 19th century masterpiece, who created for himself an environment of such splendid artifice that he never needed to go anywhere. How much does that feel like Michele’s Gucci?

Today, there were new motifs to expand on the snakes, bees and butterflies, the embroidered motto L’Aveugle par Amour, all of which have come to constitute his design vocabulary. One new addition appliqued everywhere was Loved, as in, “You are…”, a sensation Michele fervently wished everyone could feel. Another was the Greek rendition of the name Serapis, a god whose cult bridged civilisations, Egyptian, Greek and Roman, like a rock star of antiquity. If the utterly arcane nature of such a reference seemed like quintessential Michele, Serapis actually signified abundance and resurrection, two notions that the corporate accountants would surely find reassuring as they tot up Gucci’s surging revenues.

But even more mesmerising than the renaissance of Serapis under the Gucci umbrella was the presence of Donald Duck. Here’s where things got really twisted. Little Alessandro never read books, so big Alessandro claimed. Instead, he learned about the world through the travels and travails of Donald Duck and his Uncle Scrooge. Overland, never by air (the show opened with the sound of a car engine revving). The kind of travel that is impossible now. I identify. Tintin was my travelogue.

And it wasn’t only Donald Duck’s journeys that activated Michele’s imagination. He loved Marco Polo too. A knit vest featured a rabbit riding a dog, an impossible journey, like Polo’s. There was so much more that spoke to travel of a peculiar Alice-in-Wonderland variety. Lifeboatmen? All at sea. Louis Quinze jean jackets? My time machine malfunctioned. Walt Disney meets Peruvian knitwear? The whole wide world is fashion’s oyster. And Alessandro Michele is its fantabulist, an utterly benign ancient mariner flagging us down on our way to somewhere else to inject us with the most exquisite poison.

And we don’t really even have to get up off the couch. Personal Review

When putting together the Gucci photo collection, it was had to choose only ten photos. Each and every piece in this collection is so unique. Even though each look was unique, the show flowed together nicely. A few of the pieces did seem repetitive of previous seasons, though. Also, I’m disappointed that Gucci will be combining the men’s and women’s collection together next year. HAIDER ACKERMANN Vogue.com

A screech of feedback and the strafing of spotlights pushed by technicians hidden behind eaves above the glorious courtyard in front of us signaled the start of this tight, bright, stay-up-all night Haider Ackermann collection. We were alfresco, and a light pattering of fat, slow, humidity-swollen raindrops had faded just a few moments earlier. “I would have loved it if they walked in the rain,” said the designer afterwards: “It would have been beautiful.” And semi-appropriate too, because the irregular white on yellow, red, black, or pink print silk shirts in this collection were a creative reinterpretation of sweat-drenchedness achieved post a dusk ’til dawn session of sybaritic dancing. Ackermann explained: “I have this gang of young kids around me. And they are full-on. And I wanted to capture their energy. They are just kids who want to dance and party and be happy. They don’t have the heaviness of the world.”

The women’s looks in this show played loose, dark, and sometimes severe counterbalance to the often fitted but always frolicsome saturated abundance of the men’s. Those silks, painted or metallic-treated leathers, plus shrapnel-burst intarsias on bombers and jackets were for peacocks of the night. Ackermann is known as a master of the crumpled-crotch tight pant but his high- hemmed carrot silhouette was see-in-the-dark stand-out too. To like Haider Ackermann you have to like Haider Ackermann, but this was particularly likeable Haider Ackermann. WWD

“I wish it was not raining on my parade,” a rueful Haider Ackermann said after his spring men’s show, held in the courtyard of the Palais Galliera.

Staging an open-air fashion show in Paris in June — especially after the French capital’s wettest spring in 150 years — was always going to be risky. Ackermann took the plunge and his guests got sprinkled, though it would take more than a few drops of rain to dilute the joy of his color-drenched collection.

The designer left no Pantone chart unexplored. There were shimmering shades of amethyst, emerald, fuchsia and turquoise, and delicate hues of pastel pink, sea green and baby blue. Pops of DayGlo yellow, Klein blue and safety orange competed with lamé leather and bright floral prints.

“Don’t we need energy at the moment? I mean, everyone — the whole industry, the whole world needs to have this positive energy,” he said, by way of explanation. “It’s all about freedom.”

Ackermann pushed his aesthetic into sportswear territory with tracksuit stripes on pleated pants, embellished bomber jackets and silk shirts inspired by boxing robes. The latter were loosely tucked into pants or left open, the better to show off full-body tattoos on a few of the models.

His signature tailoring was out in force, too. The eye went immediately to his terrific pleated pants, which were loose around the crotch, cropped above the ankle and draped or folded at the waist. They came in black — naturally — but suddenly, the bubblegum pink version looked a lot more appealing. NY Times

The rain began around 8 p.m., as crowds massed in a furious bottleneck at the entrance to the Palais Galliera for Haider Ackermann’s show. The attendees were not pleased. The sky was a moody, Haider Ackermann gray, dense and melancholic, which might have suited Mr. Ackermann, the dense and melancholic Colombian-born designer, were it not the evening of his men’s show, held in the courtyard of the Paris fashion museum.

Guests were beckoned inside in twos and threes, to huddle behind the balustrades of the covered arcade, sipping chilled white wine and looking doubtfully at their tarp-coveted seats in the open air. From the backstage entrance, Mr. Ackermann peered through his round , no less perturbed.

By 20 minutes after the hour, the drizzle had tapered off and the show could begin. The models slouched their circular course in a parrot-feather palette of pink, purple, orange and green — some in low-slung, droopy trousers; some in higher, tighter pants, their blotchily patterned shirts and scarves hanging loosely about them. The few female models interspersed among them wore mostly black. For Mr. Ackermann, the male wears the radiant plumage.It was an exuberant, over- the-top collection, and all the stronger for its fabulous intensity, with the flashing spotlights and grinding music of a disco alfresco. In the front row, Abe Chabon, 13, pronounced it a hit.

“It was incredible,” he said.

Abe was attending his first fashion shows in Paris in the company of his father, the Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Michael Chabon. Abe is a dedicated follower of fashion — he saves chore wages and his recent bar mitzvah money to buy clothes, and attended the show wearing Raf Simons, Acne Studios and Gosha Rubchinskiy. Mr. Chabon, who confessed no more than a passing interest in fashion, had pitched to GQ the idea of writing about a father-son fashion week trip, the better to understand his son’s fascination.

“Little Hypebeast, that’s his nickname,” Mr. Chabon said. “I compare it to — remember that movie ‘Little Buddha’ with Keanu Reeves?” In that film, a clutch of Tibetan monks show up on the doorstep of an ordinary American couple, convinced their young son is a reincarnated lama.

Mr. Chabon was wearing a pair of Margiela boots that his son had insisted upon — not Abe, but his brother. “We spent like an hour convincing him,” Abe said. “I wanted him to get YSL boots and my brother was like, ‘No, you need to get these!’ My brother won.” The model Luka Sabbat, another front row attendee, wandered over, and the two exchanged reviews. Both plan to attend more shows in the coming days. Backstage, Mr. Ackermann was slowly processing a line of well-wishers who were lined up in a bottleneck after the show as bad as the one they had been in before it. Get lifestyle news from the Style, Travel and Food sections, from the latest trends to news you can use

The collection had been inspired, he said, by the young guys around him, carefree hedonists for whom partying is a calling and a duty. “They dance in the club and they sweat and they enjoy,” Mr. Ackermann said. “I just wanted to have all this happiness, all this embrace of joy.” The blotchy prints that might have been maps or ink blots suddenly came into focus: They were sweat stains, imaginatively transformed.The joy Mr. Ackermann channeled was, he agreed, all the more valuable in uncertain, unhappy days like these. “Very true, very true,” he said. “It’s colorful. It’s so poetic against this melancholic sky.”

He paused for a moment. “I would have loved to have it raining,” he said with a glance upward. “Not on you,” he added quickly, looking back at the long line of journalists and guests who had come from the outdoor seating to congratulate him. “Raining on all the guys.” Personal Review

This was another collection that focused on blurring the lines between male and female. It was challenging to figure out if the model was a male or a female at times. The men’s clothing was tighter and brighter than the women’s. I loved the bright colors, but I did not care for how feminine the clothes looked on the men. A lot of the pants were way too tight in my opinion. HERMES Vogue.com

Fashion’s invention soars when conjuring up synonyms to describe its colors. Hermès fittingly offers some of the most luxuriant: silex and baobab and Tyrian purple. Which, roughly speaking, means a flinty yellow-brown, a woody bark- brown, and the purple of Roman emperor’s robes. Hermès said it better.

If not obsessed, then Véronique Nichanian is certainly highly interested in the power of color. Her grandiose official title is artistic director of the Hermès Men’s Universe, but in actual fact her sphere of work is compact—the demands are very much similar season in and out, and color permits Nichanian to experiment in a manner materials could not permit. Hermès, after all, is a leather house, with a focus on influencing the wardrobe decisions of only the wealthiest. There’s an inherent conservatism to that economic strata of society, particularly when it comes to their clothes. They may hang an abstract painting on their wall, but they don’t want to wear one.

That said, there’s something supremely satisfying about what Nichanian achieves at Hermès, which is never to reinvent the wheel but, rather, reupholster the carriage. Color is a primary tool, because while men may sniff at a strange fabric or an architectonic cut, you can possibly entice them into wearing a citrus yellow goatskin T-shirt, or at least injecting the color into a fine-gauge knit of accessory. That limoncello, so sharp it was almost chartreuse, was the kicky punctuation for this latest statement in the well-rounded vocabulary of Nichanian’s Hermès, of easy bomber jackets and narrow trousers, papery overcoats and a set of overalls that will surely find a willing buyer. Perhaps so will the tie-dyed suede cardigans and silk knits, although they’re a trickier, happier sell.

It’s difficult to judge these clothes via photographs, or even in the flesh. Words certainly aren’t enough. These are garments that necessitate flesh and blood, getting touchy and feely, maybe even wrangling yourself into them to understand their distinct appeal. As a flat image, they can read flat, but they’re really anything but.

Fashion is increasingly mediated by digital imagery—the argument being that the industry is in the doldrums due to said snaps removing a lust to acquire and replacing it with ennui. These kind of clothes can be seen as an antidote to that school of thought; garments you have to lay your hands on not only to fully understand, or be excited by, but to really fall in love. WWD

A men’s show at Hermès carries the promise of a few key ingredients: sumptuous leathers, elegant tailoring and an intrepid way with pattern. Véronique Nichanian’s spring collection delivered all three in spades, with an impressively light-handed touch.

The designer worked tissue-thin lambskin into elegant cardigans, jackets and narrow pants. Tie- dye patterns blossomed on filmy silk knits, and on a cobalt blue shirt in a paisley-printed silk twill. The haute hippie looks set the casual tone of the display, which spotlighted that rare and fascinating breed: the leisure class.

A loose gray sweater with an open polo collar and contrasting white stripes seemed immune to the passage of time: It could have been lifted from a Jacques Henri Lartigue photograph, or spotted last week at the Meadow Club. Two-button suits were worn with chunky sandals, signaling a casual disregard for established rules.

Nichanian took a risk with the sulfur yellow shade that was the guiding thread of the show. The acid-bright color worked its way onto canvas weekend bags and an equine-themed camouflage print. It was a calculated move: the dissonant note helped to bring the rest of the tasteful display into sharper focus. Business of Fashion

An Hermès show can be a fitting metaphor for the slow evolution of menswear — or certain areas of it. More or less, season after season, you have the impression of seeing the same collection, give or take a colour or a detail. Men's artistic director Véronique Nichanian is currently into acidic yellow, purple and tie-dye, which made for a jolly and youthful offer of slim tailoring and slimmer leisurewear. Maybe too slim, in fact: given the current interest in bigger shapes, and Hermes' status as the temple of subtle discretion, it would have been stimulating to see Nichanian testing new silhouettes, in place of adding new surfaces to familiar ones. Personal Review

Hermès stands dedicated in its approach to classic menswear. Beautiful lines, luxurious materials, and timeless staples are used again in this collection. Greys, blacks, browns, and whites are mixed with leather and pops of color to make this line interesting and exciting. ISSEY MIYAKE Vogue.com Could Issey Miyake’s Yusuke Takahashi have known in advance that he would be staging his Spring show in a Paris university quadrant on a day when the temperature topped 90 degrees Fahrenheit? Well, yes, that’s the point of weather reports—and the reason Takahashi didn’t draft in a layer of polyurethane to protect us from theoretical showers. Instead, the sun burned, perspiration beaded and dripped, and globules of sweat suspended from hairs and trickled uncomfortably down scorched skin, as models paraded in his collection. They quivered in the heat like mirages, the air throbbing. The clothes were inspired by India. How appropriate. It was also a built-in advertising opportunity. Who in the audience didn’t wish they were wearing Takahashi’s opening looks: easy and breezy, wide-cut and capacious trousers in subtly crumpled and rumpled monochrome fabrics—Japanese in design, Indian in inspiration, but with a decided Italian or Iberian undertone, like a Vittorio De Sica scene, or a still from Suddenly, Last Summer? Neither were intentional. As ever, the obsession at Miyake was manipulation of fabric, techy treatments, intentional pleating and creasing. As the show progressed, color crept in: the patterns and hues of Holi— the festival of colors—were hand-printed across cotton, , and hemp modal, the pale suits blossoming into brilliant color. Shots of imperial blue or sulphur yellow had a visceral force. Prints varied: Some were abstract, misty watercolor notions; others were brilliantly multicolored marble prints, comprising five to ten printing blocks per design. After all that black and white, they popped. Yet it was the actual fabrics themselves—the touch, not the look—that made the biggest impact. Intentionally creased means non-iron; others resisted creases. A minimum of fuss—including buttons, zips, and most formal forms of fastening—both simplified and streamlined. It made the clothes look both antique and modern. Issey Miyake garments—those designed by Takahashi, and before—have always been tied in with those ideas of modern living, connecting the aesthetic with the animate. You can’t look good if you don’t feel good. And, as uncomfortable physically as this show was to watch, the fresh, summery, and hence immediate appeal of the clothes won through. Which is rare, given how summer and winter have blurred, at least on the runway. You wanted to strip off, and step into these garments. And maybe flay a layer of skin off too, to cool down. But Takahashi can’t be held accountable for that. Business of Fashion

Fluidity was the byword at Issey Miyake, in a surprisingly good collection that functioned as a reset of sorts, a blank slate or better still, a journey from a white page, as the press notes stated. It was, indeed: a supremely pure succession of roomy, essential shapes with the slightest, almost imperceptible Indian flavour to them.

After a few uncertain seasons, menswear creative director Yusuke Takahashi, probably prompted by the exhaustive Miyake retrospective held at The National Arts Center, Tokyo, went back to Miyake-san's seminal work at the beginning of his career, working with forms that are both abstract and practical, choosing materials with a tactile, natural hand that recall Japanese traditions, playing with proportions that ultimately free the movement, hence the person who wears the clothes. If the label carries on in this direction, good things might happen: Miyake's own brand of poetic pragmatism is urgently needed in the contemporary fashion wasteland. WWD

Guests were handed ice packs to cope with the sweltering heat at the Issey Miyake Men’s show, held in the courtyard of the Université Pierre et Marie Curie. Though uncomfortable, the modern venue, with its multilevel stairs, provided the perfect backdrop for Yusuke Takahashi’s cool crinkled suits.

He was inspired by Varanasi, the spiritual capital of India, for a sequence of black and white outfits that put the accent on texture. Loose-fitting styles carried more than a whiff of the Eighties — think cowl-neck shirts, jumpsuits and extrawide raincoats that nailed the emerging Paris trend for oversize clothes.

As Japanese band Kikagaku Moyo pushed their live jam in a psychedelic direction, the clothes also took a hypnotic turn. Hand-printed marble patterns and abstract watercolor motifs brought a playful touch to the lineup, but for cool factor, the monochrome looks won hands down. Personal Review

A lot of the same styles were repeated in different colors in this show. The loose clothing looked very comfortable for the hot summer weather, though. I enjoyed how vibrant the colors were in this show. JIL SANDER Vogue.com “I wanted to convey a sense of relaxed lightness,” said designer Rodolfo Paglialunga backstage after Jil Sander’s Spring men’s show. He tried to bring a natural ease to the quite strict house codes, without betraying their substantial legacy. Lines were clean, bordering on the severe, with an almost purist bent. Paglialunga worked around a concept of reduction and restraint, peeling off, as the press notes stated, even the slightest layer of “the superfluous”—a term that, by the way, has never been even remotely associated with Sander’s style. The show was a rendition of classic Sander staples, almost archetypal—boxy workwear-inspired blousons, unstructured cotton suits with controlled volumes, dusters of ample near billowy proportions. It looked pared down and practical, a modular wardrobe for the modern zeitgeist. Fabrics were light yet textured; the color palette spanned from luminous hues—pale blues and grays, delicate greens—to sun- bleached, ombré effects that, as Paglialunga described, gave an almost “foggy” patina to part of the lineup. It was testament to the designer’s sophisticated flair, yet it darkened the summery mood, bringing it down a notch. A well-needed jolt of energy came via a leather blouson in a bright shade of sunny orange. Seeing more of that spirit would’ve been a welcome choice—it wouldn’t have been be considered at all “superfluous.” Business of Fashion At Jil Sander, Rodolfo Paglialunga dialed down the odd diversions of the past few seasons - militarism and fetishism - and went back to the core values of the house: luxurious simplicity and sophisticated function. The collection, which greatly benefited from being concise and tightly edited, was easy, modular and soft, due to the abundance of faded and washed surfaces that gave pieces a sun-bleached allure. Sander's very own civilian take on the idea of the uniform was apparent in the long trenchcoats and functional shirt- jackets, and, overall, in the idea of a modular offering of pliable staples. The effect was, again, a tad repetitive, but the message had appeal: Paglialunga has perfected the idea of the compact, fuss-free wardrobe for self-aware men who find stressing over their look deadly boring. WWD

Less is more. That’s a natural state of mind at Jil Sander. This season, creative director Rodolfo Paglialunga stressed to the minimal factor to the max with a collection rooted an elegant, essential aesthetic.

Following a fall lineup, which felt too intricate with a cascade of military-style belts and straps on outwear and tailoring, spring came with a more practical and functional attitude. Although everything was cut in sharp silhouettes, Paglialunga steered clear of stiffness and opted for a more comfortable ease.

The lineup was strong on softly constructed staples, such as oversize trenches, graphic leather jackets, slim pants, lightweight suits and knits with a luxurious feel. A workwear-inspired, utilitarian theme was introduced via shirts and jackets embellished with multiple pockets.

Despite the overall simplicity, the collection had a charming twist, which emerged in particular in the suits and lightweight coats featuring chic degrade effects. While focused on monochromatic looks, the lineup included a captivating blurred floral print, which was subtle and discreet.

With this convincing effort, Paglialunga seems finally to have found the right vocabulary to start communicating his own vision of the Jil Sander label. Personal Review

This show was very simple, but not in a bad way at all. The collection was relaxed, but looked very sophisticated. It was minimal and elegant. JUNYA WATANABE Vogue.com he ragtag bunch of models who make up the cast of each of Junya Watanabe’s shows are so deliberate they don’t only support the clothing physically but ideologically as well. Take Spring 2017, where swaggering and heavily inked sorts meandered menacingly toward the audience, confronting each bench of onlookers with a sneer. The small-town big man was Watanabe’s jump-off point—gangsters, hustlers, general ne’er-do-wells. Boys from the wrong side of the tracks.

Or at least, their impression and impressionists. Back to those models’ bodies: Watanabe deliberately chose a selection of tattooed types this season. Where there wasn’t a tattoo, a fake one was drawn on to ratchet up the perceived intimidation factor. That’s a cliché, but there is still something unsettling about a facial tattoo barely covering a scowling countenance—even if the allover arm decoration dubbed “sleeves” are fashionable and indeed appear on many a runway as par for the course of casting young, thin men in the 21st century. Everybody’s at it.

Maybe that’s where the interest in sleeves came from, as Watanabe patched the padded and quilted arms of biker jackets onto jackets or coats tailored in tweed—the dirty-work-doing henchman fused with the besuited mob boss. Other sleeves were notably decorated, in florals, say, or paisley, or tattoo-style prints on plain wool, with tattooed bodied echoed—very obliquely—by tropical prints, black on beige. Watanabe doesn’t seem like the type to consort with criminals: He quoted from cinematic references and archetypes, particularly Emir Kusturica’s Eastern European farce Black Cat, White Cat. The prints on clothes crossed between tattoos and movie posters: The word ptaki, Polish for “birds,” swarmed across a chest. Russian prisoners get tattoos of flocks of birds behind bars to symbolize a longing for freedom. They appeared at the end, Watanabe’s traditional finale of shirts, a vehicle to emphasize a single idea, frequently the most commercially savvy.

Don’t read too much into the bad-boy posturing. Watanabe is clever. He rarely subjugates his menswear to the demands of an overwrought theme, rather hanging a wardrobe of disparate pieces from a few interconnected ideas that you can choose to buy into or willfully ignore. The clothing at Watanabe comprised multiple collaborations— Levi’s for wide-leg jeans and jackets; fine-gauge John Smedley knitwear; finely constructed Heinrich Dinkelacker shoes. Plenty of Watanabe clients will fall onto (and into) those, as well as his cleverly tweaked tailoring and workwear-focused items, without even a whisper of their criminal past. How’s that for rehabilitation? Business of Fashion

What’s it like to be Junya Watanabe? He’s a cultural historian, trawling through social sub- currents to pluck out a single gleaming fish of inspiration. Picture him alighting on tattoo-ed gangsters — not the big boss, just the henchmen — who were the characters he cast for his Spring/Summer 2017 collection.

For the first time ever, Watanabe was even ready to be a little more forthcoming about his source material: Black Cat, White Cat, a 1998 award-winner from perennial critic’s favourite Emir Kusturica. If he was hoping the humour of that movie would infuse his collection, he was aiming too high, but there was certainly a fast-paced feistiness to the show.

A lot of that had to do with the soundtrack, packed with shouty tracks from Plastic People of the Universe, who were Vaclav Havel’s favourite band back in the day of Czechoslovakia’s Velvet Revolution. Elaborating on the Eastern European theme, Watanabe used posters from Polish artist Bronislaw Zelek as the main graphic element, printed or woven, in the collection. And the ghost of Poland’s James Dean, Zbigniew Cybulski, hovered over the leather jackets. (Some of them were pleather, but not enough to make a statement, at which point you have to wonder, why fake it?).

That whole aesthetic was a touchstone for the Manhattan downtowners who made the Mudd Club into a cultural crucible in the early 1980s. There’s a tweaky little alt-punk thing nibbling at the edges of fashion right now. So maybe this was Watanabe’s Mudd Club collection. WWD

Plain surfaces are overrated, Junya Watanabe seemed to say with his spring men’s collection, shown in a concrete parking garage plastered with colorful graffiti and worn by a cast of heavily tattooed models, to which the designer added more ink on limbs, faces and necks.

“Retro gangsters” was the look he was after, drawing some inspiration from the farcical movie “Black Cat, White Cat.” The show had a jazzy vibe heightened by the pork pie hats and the model’s swagger.

The news this season was busy botanical prints for breezy camp shirts and Bermudas, and poster art stenciled onto snazzy alterna-suits, many with shorts in lieu of pants. Watanabe also went big for faux and real leather for peacoats, blazers and padded biker-jacket sleeves grafted onto checkered tailoring. Occasionally, Watanabe just added a zippered cuff to toughen up the tailoring.

The designer once again used leather elbow patches and fabric patchworks on shirt- and jeans- style jackets, making them feel a bit déjà vu. Personal Review

“Retro Gangsters.” Some of the models for this show looked like they were recruited for the show from a carnival. I love the vibe, though. It’s very different than the other shows this season. It’s unique. It takes a certain type of man to wear these clothes. I love the patterns and fabrics used for this line. J.W. ANDERSON Vogue.com

A few days ago, Jonathan “J.W.” Anderson posted a picture of the cover of Antoine de Saint‐Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince to his Instagram account—that social media platform turned visual mood-board so often seized upon by designers to offer cryptic clues to their inspiration before a show, and to promote the product heartily after. Anderson apparently read it as a child, and it made a mark. It’s simple, for instance, to relate the broken, beaded crowns Anderson heaped on his models today to the dress of the protagonist of Saint‐Exupéry’s novella—but considering that the Little Prince’s other trademark characteristics were a shock of golden hair and a charming laugh, he’s somewhat reminiscent of the designer himself. Anderson is a prince of London fashion, a charming golden boy: Saint‐Exupéry’s fictional creation made merry of dancing around his narrator’s questioning, never answering directly. That’s what throwing out questions from the backstage throng at a J.W.Anderson show can feel like.

That said, one doubts Anderson intended to ally his own self with the Little Prince; rather, the reference relates to his Spr ing 2017 collection. And it was about more than just those crowns. “Draw me a cloud,” posed Anderson, obliquely—his own version of the Little Prince’s “Draw me a sheep.” It wasn’t a challenge, though, rather an explanation of his own mind-set in creating the collection, the question he posed himself. Or so he said, succinctly.

Jonathan Anderson speaks in sound bites; his clothes are the visual equivalent. They’re arresting, grabbing attention they’re sometimes worthy of. And often, everyone zeroes in on a single bite (this time, probably, that “childhood rediscovered at will” line) and chews it ove r endlessly. “How do you regurgitate?” was one of the hypothetical questions Anderson proposed backstage—although he was talking about regurgitating his own back catalogue. He often answers a question with a question, does London fashion’s Little Prince.

The clothes themselves were the usual odd, Andersonian mix: oversized, undersized, goggles strapped over eyes, men in dresses toting your mother’s handbag, sleeves trailing to the floor. Goofy stuff. There was a dressing-up box feel, which chimed with Anderson’s assertion that “It’s not about being nostalgic, it’s about being childlike.” So you’re to read the vaguely ’30s Bloomsbury airs of elongated tunics, wide trousers , and coats as incidental rather than intentional. There was also a lot of arty-farty riffing and referencing: Pop-y female faces; Pollocky dribbles on linen; a touch of Dali to those molten pulled-down sleeves; a Roy Lichtenstein dead-ringer in a blown-up eye, pocked with Ben-Day dots, bogging out from a trench coat shoulder. “It’s like when a kid looks at influences; how they reinterpret those influences,” said Anderson, rather than naming names of those influenti al art figures whose imprints (and sometimes prints) were so closely reinterpreted. It reminded you of the cliché everyman critique of abstraction: My kid could paint that.

Anderson likes to be obtuse and intriguing. And his clothes are the same—possibly because we critics are left trying to untangle a Möbius-band of outward glances mixed with hearty self-reference, to conform to a paradigm which decrees that a fashion show has to be “about” something. Anderson’s aren’t—at least, not for Spring. Instead, there was a childlike, impulsive assemblage of things that look interesting. There’s often a sense of spontaneity to Anderson’s work, of immediacy. It sometimes, frankly, looks thrown together. “People want fashion,” contemplated the designer , as the press scribbled down his cogitations, possibly without really thinking about them. Anderson this season didn’t propose a fashion, a defined s ilhouette, an identifiable look: If we’re talking in art metaphors, it was objet trouvé. It felt happened upon, rather than predetermined.

The collection pulled apart easily into individual pieces of colorful knit and handsome tailoring, and a grown-up focus on bankable accessories—cartoonish jewelry, those bags for a few brave men and many more women, laced-top boots, and even an easy eyelet-strung sneaker. However, from Anderson—of whom so much is demanded to shift the fashion conversation, especially when it comes to London menswear—the confused and confusing mix that comprised the rest made for frustrating viewing. Business of Fashion In the current issue of BoF's print edition, Jonathan Anderson outlines the intense process he follows to build a collection, the furious accumulation of ideas, images and random inspirations which are layered to often surreal effect. His Spring 2017 collection for men was a consummate expression of that process. Oddities great and small registered on their way down Anderson's deliberately cramped catwalk, which ensured the in-your-face experience he favours. A few standouts: the motif of dancing jackal gods, the jigsaw-puzzle-on-woodgrain print, the cat-in-the- sleeves trailing floorwards, the interlocking Tangle crowns by Anderson's erstwhile collaborator, artist Richard X. Zawitz. They were the giveaway. No, wait — maybe the soundtrack was the first clue. It opened with David Bowie's distinctive voice introducing the instruments for the Philadelphia Orchestra's 1978 recording of Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. A fairytale, in other words. Because that's what Anderson's collection was. The models in their crowns and flying goggles were his update of Antoine Saint-Exupéry's Little Prince, the mysterious boy who falls to earth from an asteroid. Their long shirts over cropped wide pants looked like fairytale cartoon sportswear (though a couple of jumpsuits paired with sci-fi boxing boots were also reminiscent of The Man Who Fell to Earth where Bowie’s alien was dystopia’s grown-up little prince). Anderson compared the outfits to modular toys, put together like Zawitz’s crowns. There was certainly an acute sense of composition in the way colours and textures interwove. (David Hockney’s iPad art was another reference.) There was also a raw playfulness: different gauges of knit tugging in all directions of a , seams spray-painted on a linen top, a kind of proportion-challenging glee that brought to mind the energy of BodyMap in the early 1980s. Saint-Exupery's Little Prince is flummoxed by the strangeness of the adult world. Anderson’s collection flipped that. You could imagine “adults” being flummoxed by the strangeness of the designer’s boys in their button-through , not precisely gender-blended, more the chemically-altered spawn of a laboratory (Anderson prefers “a workshop of ideas”) where a mad scientist is creating a new tribe. “People want fashion,” he said. Now we know just what that means to him. It's a trip. WWD

A little prince falls to Earth from a tiny asteroid. No wonder Jonathan Anderson was smitten with the bittersweet narrative of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s famous novella, pouring its intergalactic fantasy — and the protagonist’s naiveté — into his fascinating yet challenging spring collection.

It’s easy to imagine the young royal wearing J.W. Anderson and wandering the desert in breezy linen caftans with spray-painted seams; satin jumpsuits with utility pockets and jaunty hoods, or topped with a big patchwork shirt with a padded bib.

(It’s also easy to imagine those attention-seekers coagulating outside of show venues immediately adopting the gogglelike aviators and two-tone Dr. Seuss sweaters with sleeves dangling to the ankles.)

Anderson remains uncompromising with his androgynous view of men’s wear, styling many looks with glossy shoulder bags, which models toted the way a would.

Fey, too, were the shrunken trenchcoats, the slim house dresses and the arty smocks in loud puzzle prints or gorgeous sunset degrades. Masculine touches included military bombers and trenches with dropped shoulders and puffy sleeves, and the Nirvana plaids fronting big shirts or slim tunics. Sweater sleeves occasionally wound around their hips and dangled down the front.

Here were plenty of ideas on which many other designers will feed and translate into more wearable versions. To be sure, the culottes and those long, loose tunics are bound to be influential. Kudos to Anderson for continuing to dare — and for breaking free of retro retreads of past seasons. Backstage he talked about his wish to “escape nostalgia, because maybe that’s boring.” Personal Review

I found the J.W. Anderson show to be very intriguing. It seems like almost every designer looked to the past for inspiration for their spring 2017 collection this year, J.W. Anderson included. Instead of drawing his inspiration from a style icon of long ago, he drew his inspiration from his own past, his childhood; I think its an interesting take on drawing inspiration from the past, and I think this collection will inspire others to translate his line into more wearable pieces. Vogue.com The layers upon layers upon layers in the Sacai show crystallised why the label is one of fashion’s favourite cults. The soundtrack, courtesy of Clockwork Orange, helped. There were other oblique references to that movie: the boiler suit the droogs wore, the words horrorshow and oddy-knocky (Nadsat for “good” and “alone”) printed on tops. But that was only the beginning of Chitose Abe’s rich tapestry One outfit featured a pineapple print (Hawaii), paisley from the UK and patterned belts from Afghanistan collaged into a parka, the most classic item from the Mod wardrobe in early 1960s Britain. It was the sort of densely hybrid, wittily curatorial piece that is a Sacai signature. Another parka mixed Mexican patterns with English tweed. There were MA-1’s and other military items dyed a dense fuchsia pink, aggression turned peace and love. Traditional straight- tip boots had basketball laces. And almost everything had rasta mesh tanks as a foundation. Chitose showed her women’s pre-collection alongside her Spring 2017 menswear. The vocabulary was more or less the same, but it looked more familiar, and more polished. A tweed jacket doubled over a high performance sports jacket was a typically chic Sacai hybrid, while the menswear had a rough, rave-y edge. But in both cases, there was that particular Japanese appreciation of Western pop culture which is able to feed back to us all that's familiar in gloriously unpredictable ways. There were badges, blank because, said Chitose’s lieutenant Daisuke Gemma, “there’s something on your mind but we don’t talk about it.” Remember that Chitose is Rei Kawakubo’s protégé. And accept that she is another face of Japan’s enduring ability to challenge, provoke, bemuse — and amuse. WWD

Hedonism as an antidote to news-induced angst: The concept worked for the bleary-eyed guests at Kenzo’s show on Saturday morning. A high-energy soundtrack of New York house, concocted by DJ Todd Terry, had the audience grooving in their seats as models in club gear sped past in tight little packs.

The look was Nineties redux: Think Windbreakers, baggy pants and visible boxer shorts, in a palette ranging from vibrant blues to box-fresh white and acid yellow. Humberto Leon and Carol Lim said they were inspired by the era’s nightlife – clubs like Sound Factory, Area, Tunnel and Limelight.

“In light of everything that’s happening, it’s really exciting to celebrate nightlife, which is something that we’ve always been so passionate about, and it’s where people just go and you don’t even think about anything. All you want to do is have fun,” said Leon.

Double-zipped funnel neck tops, tucked into high-waisted pants, featured wide bands of contrasting fabric across the chest. Voluminous shirts and tops were paired with short shorts, high socks and colorful slides.

The duo secured the rights to original club flyers and worked them into busy prints and logo hoodies. Lime yellow lettering covered a magnified snakeskin pattern, while tops featured names like “Paradise” and “Body and Soul.”

The looks nodded to the streetwear trend for reworked Nineties sportswear yet remained distinctly Kenzo, thanks to signature details like oversize eyelets and a new, long-lashed version of the label’s eye motif.

These also appeared in the women’s resort collection, which was shown alongside the men’s looks. The eyelets were used on denim jackets and pants, slipdresses and over-the-knee coats cinched with jeweled chains.

Cropped leather jackets and A-line minis, worn with wedge boots, brought to mind the Spice Girls – even if Cool Britannia feels like a century ago. Business of Fashion

The gang mentality which is so integral to the way most brands operate today — creating a sense of belonging in order to urge customers to the shop — was apparent in the Kenzo show, a mix of menswear and a consistent chunk of womenswear (the brand's pre-collection, for the records).

"We sent little cliques of men and women down the runway, trying to recreate the inclusive ethos of some seminal moments in New York's 1990s nightlife," explained creative directors Humberto Leon and Carol Lim. The ethos, and certainly the looks. "In each collection,” — they added — “we try to explore a streak of Kenzo Takada's heritage. This time we looked at Mr Takada in his early years, when he was showing in the Big Apple and enjoying local clubs such as Studio 54."

Enough with conceptual explanations and brand consistency. The collection was a bold mix of urban staples, reconfigured streetwear and boxy, oversized tailoring in odd proportions, accessorised to an nth with , stripy socks, and glittery platforms. It was visually as lysergic as possible, and definitely upbeat and joyous. Yet it lacked clarity, maybe because of the forcibly messy styling, which made pieces disappear in a jumble of this and that. Their intentions, however, were clear and commendable (even though a groupage of street-cast models is not necessarily a clique). Creating a sense of belonging demands a bit more truthfulness, or probably more spontaneity in the looks. Personal Review

This was another collection focusing on creating a unisex look. The show had both female and male models. The menswear was definitely feminine looking. The clothes were interesting and had exciting pops of color and patterns. KTZ Vogue.com

Staged in the dank and dinge of a soaring, arched brick warehouse normally host to a gay club night, the spring 2017 KTZ show felt of a different time. Not just that venue, which seemed rather more suited to a ’90s London fashion scene devoted to shock tactics rather than sales figures, but the clothes themselves. Marjan Pejoski intended to evoke not the past but the future—“interstellar science fiction” and “dark futurism” were his key statements, alongside a heavy dose of masculine eroticism.

That explained not only the off-the-beaten-track venue, but many of the garments on show. It was a chicken and egg situation: did Pejoski and the KTZ team think of the venue before deciding to strap their models into kinky tailored gimp masks, metal-hooped torso harnesses and clothes scissored open with glory holes onto various parts of the body? Or did the pieces themselves suggest somewhere a little more off-piste and after dark in feel? As a side note, showing a near all-black collection in a blacked-out venue doesn’t create a great viewing experience.

It all wound up feeling too little like a relevant fashion proposal, and far too much like an International Mr. Leather competition. Bar the ever-present body-harnesses, there was a lot of leather, unarguably a surfeit for an ostensibly Spring-Summer show. Even if these are clothes for nocturnal activities, summer nights are frequently hot, and sticky. They certainly would be in a calfskin .

Then again, it’s safe to assume these aren’t clothes for people who care a great deal about practicality. They are designed to satisfy a fetish—not a sexual peccadillo, but a sartorial one. KTZ has a loyal cadre of fans who demand very little each season, bar more of the same—that is, the label’s trademark digitized, text-heavy prints in monochrome. Those prove immediately recognizable, and covetable, to those in the know, and were here in abundance. It wasn’t worth peering through the gloom and wishing for Pejoski to do anything more. WWD

Which way are the winds blowing in streetwear, now that high fashion has copped the bomber jacket and sneakers? Looking for clues on the tightly packed benches at the KTZ show, one could spot any number of coveted names, from Vetements and Palace to Off-White and KTZ.

Logos still rule, and KTZ’s Marjan Pejoski disguised many as handwriting and arranged in checkered patterns, or embedded them in busy foulards, an emerging London print trend. His came in black-and-white and were worn head-to-toe, splashed on leggings, shorts, parkas, sweatshirts and — occasionally — face masks.

Excepting the bright new Pantha du Prince track “Lichterschmaus” that ricocheted through a dank nightclub under an East London bridge, this was a dark-hearted collection, tinged with S&M harnesses, black leather and other tarlike textures.

Pouchlike pockets with dangling laces will be a signifier of this collection, which also pointed to workwear shapes as a new frontier. Don’t worry, the black hoodie lives on, here stretched past the knee with extra sleeves to knot around the hips. Menswear Style This London based label has a huge following and always brings out some of the most creative characters, from across various artistic industries, to attend their shows. Under the creative direction of Marjan Pejoski, models walked the narrow runway in an extremely futuristic and dark Spring/Summer collection. The KTZ logo was ever present amongst monochrome printed suits. The lighter weight summer feel came from short sleeved classic black KTZ hooded sweatshirts and cut out trousers. Heavily pocketed casual outerwear was accessorised with chains and leather giving a nod to religion and multiculturalism. Personal Review

Using only black and white made this collection look cohesive. This collection was very punk, rock and roll looking. While black is not a very summery looking color, the fabric and cut of the garments made the collection look more summery. LANVIN Vogue.com “It’s a strange time in fashion, and in the world in general,” said Lucas Ossendrijver, clutching a bouquet of white roses like a spring bride. You bet it’s weird. The roses were actually foisted on him by Lanvin’s owner Madame Wang, whose wide grin indicated approval. She tried to get Ossendrijver and Bouchra Jarrar, the quiet new head of Lanvin’s womenswear, to pose together for photographers. But the press descended first, to get their sound bites. To go back to the start: If it’s a strange time in fashion, it’s particularly strange at Lanvin, where the architect of the house’s contemporary success was ousted, and has been replaced by Jarrar, a designer yet to show her first collection. All this in less than 12 months. We’ve seen a selection of timid Resort looks from her, but the real test comes in September. Which makes this an odd time for Ossendrijver, unsure of how this changing of the guard could affect his own aesthetic. Ossendrijver finished that opening sentence by declaring “I decided to be creative. There’s not much else I can do.” Which is all you want to hear of a fashion designer, really. Appropriately enough, given the bouquet he was cradling, Ossendrijver talked about romance. “Lanvin is all about romance,” he said of a collection with belts and pierced with metallic arrows, the same knitted into intarsia sweaters above love poems wound around the waist. Those were the literal; you could also ally the general blowsiness and breeziness to Romanticism of the 19th-century breed. That’s a clothing style that is also inextricably linked to Lanvin, particularly its menswear, where softness prevails, tailoring blurring into flou, the whole thing characterized by lightness and lack of structure. For Spring, that Lanvin romance also translated to a sense of movement and urgency, of fabric flailing about the body, endlessly layered. “Nothing is closed,” said Ossendrijver, talking about flyaway coats and open-necked shirts, everything tugged apart, untucked, rumpled. A number of garments were permanently creased—Ossendrijver and his team painstakingly constructed parkas by hand, only to crush and crumple them under a press before the show, negating their preciousness. These are all aesthetic tricks Ossendrijver has explored before—that purposeful distress, those schlumpy layers. These strange fashion times seemed to have caused a retrenchment, to territory Ossendrijver knows well. This time, though, all that Lanvin louche wound up feeling a little messy overall, your eye extrapolating single garments from looks—a handsome blue coat, a candy-stripe red and white shirt—that otherwise wound up a morass of material, seams tugged to the outside, artfully unraveling. It’s great to have details like that: Indeed, their use as points of differentiation was how Ossendrijver established Lanvin’s position in the menswear market a decade ago. This offering could have used a little less romance and a bit more restraint, though. Absence, after all, makes the heart grow fonder. WWD The streetwear trend is turning many fashionable men into walking Kindles. Outside venues and inside shows, brands and oblique slogans are splattered all over clothes: “A Cold Wall,” “Fear of God,” “Coming Soon” “Anti Social Social Club” or “Always Be Knolling.” At Lanvin, Lucas Ossendrijver had lines of poetry circling waists: “It doesn’t matter right or wrong,” read one. He also splattered his spring collection liberally with patches, graphic bands, photo prints and symbols, including many arrows. It added up to a Lanvin show that was grittier and busier than usual. Even the socks, often shielded by soft lace-up boots, bore a pattern melding bamboo and cannabis. Backstage, Ossendrijver insisted that in today’s uncertain fashion world, all he can offer as a solution is “creativity,” and said he avoids obvious references. “Festivals” was the only thing he would offer. “My goal has always been to make the clothes look like they belong to him,” he said, showing how he dabbed checkered suits with ragged stitching, insets of leather or rubber trim. Ossendrijver is on to something. While the clothes were sometimes overcharged, they had individuality to spare and eye-catching detail. Handsome military blousons were sparked with scrolling white embroideries, tank tops had a spill of fringe around the ribcage, satin bombers were covered with airbrushed scenes of oil refineries, and boxy camp shirts came with reflective strips, or stripes heading any which way. The silhouettes were mainly generous on top with rounded, dropped shoulders, vaguely reminiscent of the Boys, as they often are with Ossendrijver. Word has it the Dutch designer, who has already logged a decade at the house, is in talks to renew his contract at Lanvin, whose new women’s designer, Bouchra Jarrar, sat in the front row. She is to show her debut collection this fall. Business of Fashion

Urgency, fear, a world in freefall… the motivators for Lucas Ossendrijver’s new Lanvin collection weren’t exactly a barrel of monkeys, but they acknowledged a new reality. “Where is my place in that?” Ossendrijver wondered. “Is it enough to make nice clothes?”

Clearly not, because it wasn’t “nice” clothes he showed today. Raw-hemmed tailoring, ratty, hand- dyed and hand-torn scarves, the deliberate imperfection of baggy-jacket-too-short-pants proportions… a wardrobe for a world gone horribly wrong. “I wanted the boys to look a bit careless and free,” said Ossendrijver. “Not really like dressing for a festival, just natural.” But hyper-mobile with it.

There were reflective stripes on the clothes, and a jacket sleeve with a built-in wrinkle, like it had been frozen in movement. Embroidered arrows pointed forward, though towards what wasn’t quite clear. The oil refinery that was embroidered on a blouson? The grim city landscapes that were another visual motif? Dystopia was just around the corner.

The notion of travel, so prevalent this season, was reflected in the floaty nylon coats, the zip-on sleeves (zipping off), the undone laces flying away. Nomads on the run. The shoes caught that mood. Shabby but sporty. Ossendrijver said the collection was his reaction to what’s going on in the world. Clearly, it’s going to be hugely interesting to see how his vision gels with that of incoming womenswear designer Bouchra Jarrar whose point of view has a subtle grandeur. Personal Review

“Nomad on the run.” The quote from Business of Fashion on the Spring 2017 Lanvin line, sums up the collection quite well. This collection was defined by perfect imperfections. LEMAIRE Vogue.com

Held in the beautiful Palais de la Femme, a 1910 vintage charitable refuge for distressed women, this show had the added virtue that its location fee went to an excellent cause. Lemaire’s precision- tooled aesthetic took in some new territories this season; the djellaba was pared back via insertion of a V-neck and the use of denim, while the kurta came in soft, light striped cotton poplin. Without laying on any “for this collection I went on a voyage” shtick—Christophe Lemaire and Sarah-Linh Tran are far too pure to be so banal—there was a powerful overtone of travel-friendly functionality deployed with their customary aesthetic firmness and their favored, gently oversize silhouette.

Track pants, elasticated and belted at the waist and ankle, came in and light . Carabiner key holders were looped by cord around the waist or off the hem. There were crisply coated cotton parkas cut to mid-thigh; elsewhere, Lemaire made liberal use of pocket-peppered —sometimes convertible to jackets by the addition of zippered sleeves—either as layering pieces or as stand-alone outerwear. The models glanced around semi-quizzically as they walked in what was an odd and unexplained art direction. But this was the single slight misstep. WWD

With immigration top of the political agenda in Europe, Christophe Lemaire and Sarah-Linh Tran made a case for multiculturalism with their men’s collection for Lemaire, shown on the eve of Britain’s referendum on European Union membership.

They sprinkled the lineup with djellabas — in crisp cotton poplin or slightly weightier denim — worn over tailored wool pants that gave them a dressy edge. The melting-pot ethos was underlined by eclectic references ranging from Japanese-flavored black slippers to Fifties-style ducktail hairdos.

Earth tones and light layers — including billowing nylon parkas — gave the collection a travel- friendly feel, as did reporter’s jackets with voluminous pockets, including a sleeveless version layered over a formal jacket.

Lemaire said he cribbed the look from the older Arab men who live in the Belleville neighborhood of Paris, famously — and absurdly — described by Fox News as a Muslim-only “no-go” zone.

“That’s also what Paris, and Europe in general, is about. It’s the idea of cosmopolitanism and different influences,” Lemaire said backstage. “It’s terrible to see this hysteria, this kind of stupidity in the debates. It’s important to stay true to open-minded values and morals.”

Poignantly, the show was held across the road from La Belle Equipe, one of the bars targeted in the November terrorist attacks that killed 130 people. It proved that in fashion, at least, all cultures can happily coexist. Now Fashion

Timeless wardrobe staples with a Far East flavor? Clean cuts and classic shapes with an urban twist? Welcome to maison Lemaire. Each season, Christophe Lemaire and his partner-in-crime Sarah-Linh Tran add another precious milestone to their design legacy by developing their trend- and seasonless inventory of menswear essentials a tad further. This time around, the ordre du jour was "loosen up a bit!" In this sense, the designer-duo put their inspirations in common and created a new player: the Lemaire man is less grown-up this season and a bit more rock'n'roll. In fact, he comes off like a juvenile delinquent, with his "Grease Lightning" 50s styled hair (just a subtle inspiration, not a full John Travolta hairdo!) and his key-holder cord hanging down his pants, but he also seems to be well-travelled, if you take into account the sleek djellabas crafted from crisp cottons and denims in light earthy hues or the baboosh inspired leather slippers. The outerwear was particularly desirable this season: sleek and tailored – but feather-light – Lemaire's key pieces included windbreakers and rain jackets in water repellent cottons in warm, earthy hues, as well as convertible parkas with patched pockets and sleek overcoats in coated cotton. Personal Review

I found this collection to be a bit boring. It seems like oversized clothing is popular on the runway this season, and Lemaire followed suit. Quite literally, this collection was characterized by baggy and oversized suits. The colors used in this collection were earthy tones. This collection was on point with a lot of trends this season, but it did not stand out to me. LOUIS VUITTON Vogue.com

It’s official. Fashion’s obsession for Spring is travel—synonyms, indeed, are fast running out to describe the nomadic, itinerant, roving eye of designers. There’s three out of action, right there. That idea of incessant movement isn’t just a source of inspiration to Kim Jones—it’s a way of life. He is a man gripped with wanderlust, a man who has traveled to Japan alone over 70 times in the past decade, and plenty of places besides. Keeping up with Jones is difficult work. Suitably, he’s tasked with designing the menswear for Louis Vuitton, a house whose founding raison d’être was the notion of t he voyager. It’s seldom what but where next with Jones, when it comes to inspiration. The scenes make the seams.

How come, then, that for next season Jones decided not to escape, but to return? His Spring Louis Vuitton show wasn’t about travel—rather, a homecoming. In typical Jonesian fashion, that doesn’t relate to a single locale, but a trio: Africa, where he grew up; London, where he was educated; and Paris, where he lives and works now.

The latter two were the most evident: Africa, the source of luxurious exotic skins of crocodile and ostrich, Masai-inspired checks, and a savanna-bleached, sand- blind palette dominated by buff, taupe, and ecru (we’d call it beige); while London surrendered punk. “There’s always something a little London hidden somewhere,” said Jones. Actually, there was quite a lot. Jones is an avid collector of punk memorabilia—his horde of Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren’s output from their Sex and Seditionaries era is second to none, including many a museum—and he put it to good use as reference material for the collection’s bondage-buckled pants, D-rings, and dog collars, albeit superlatively finished in the French fashion. That dog collar, incidentally, was an archive Vuitton style, more commonly used for pooches, named the “Baxter.”

It was those odd, anachronistic crossovers that made this collection really zing. How about African checks approximating in those skinny strapped-up trews? Or that the utility details of punk linked, for Jones, to the functional aspect of Vuitton’s history, the clips and fastenings of traditional trunks. A pinky-tan bomber in the pimply outbreak characteristic of ostrich hide was reminiscent of an old adage: Punk is like squeezing spots. Except, if these Vuitton ones were being squeezed, it would be in a spa in Champneys. Then there’s the fact trunks were referred to as “Plastic Peculiars” and the idea that, in all honesty, Vuitton’s coated canvas is a glorified (and very expensive) kind of plastic. Jones had the real stuff in this show, too, pervy rubber trenches etched with the LV monogram and printed with a menagerie of mutated animals scribbled by the designer’s friends and past collaborators Jake and Dinos Chapman.

What does coming home imply? A familiarity. While you wouldn’t want to call this a greatest hits collection, it did riff and reference on ideas Jones has explored throughout his tenure at the house. Those Chapman prints were one; the African checks another, launched at his debut five years to the season, reworked today but still recognizable. When the Chapman’s zombie zoo roamed free, it was across a Vuitton monogram inspired by the original blueprint for the design, created in 1896—the root of the monogram, just as Jones explored his own roots.

In actuality, that was the trip Jones decided to take us on this season—down memory lane, his own and that of Louis Vuitton. The bag shapes were consciously lifted from the archives—the Steamer became a backpack; a ’70s-duffel style called Randonnee got a new strap; the Valise trunks came kitted out in springbok or an electric-blue zebra. The homecoming element resulted in a show that felt, perhaps, warmer than the label’s most recent outing; certainly more personal, which is inevitable given Jones’s connection to the subjects at hand. That gave it an additional impact, to the glossy veneer of face appeal. It gave it a depth, which is especially tricky when dealing with subject matters mined so thoroughly before.

Jones’s referencing today didn’t elevate so much as recontextualize punk. It showed what rebellion could mean, at a 21st-century house. Eyebrows will be raised—but rebellion is not the sight of the brothel-creepered, safety-pinned raiments of punk proposed as Vuitton menswear, but a designer afforded the freedom to present them. In an increasingly saturated luxury goods landscape, that is why this show stood out. WWD

Imagine a young boy touring the savanna in Kenya and alighting upon the Maasai people in their vivid red and blue clothing. It’s one of Kim Jones’ strongest and most treasured memories — and it inspired one of his first hit collections as men’s style director at Louis Vuitton five years ago.

The Botswana-born designer and travel fanatic is as smitten with Africa as ever, and its biggest cities, Capetown being a prime example, now shelter fascinating street fashions. “The style down there is so cool,” Jones said during a preview, flicking through photo books by Jackie Nickerson, Pieter Hugo and Frank Marshall, the latter documenting the heavy-metal subculture in Jones’ homeland.

For his brisk open-air spring show, the designer got savanna heat and blazing sun, which didn’t seem to phase front-row guests David Beckham or Victor Cruz, both dressed in long-sleeve sweaters, styles that appeared on the runway in shaggy with springbok fur patterns.

The mohair styles looked cool over checkered pants licked with silver zips, among the punk accents that spiked the African theme. The collection had a youthful zing, interspersed with luxury marvels, including a “denim” jacket made of matte crocodile, a molded leather vest with a diagonal zip and a Perspex blanket trunk etched with a giraffe drawing by Dinos and Jake Chapman.

The Chapman brothers’ wonky, goggle-eyed renderings of the Big Five animals made for fun novelty sweaters, swanky silk shirts and covetable leather goods — elephants and lions splashed on a new blue and cream version of Vuitton’s famous monogram. Come spring, they are bound to be hot properties. Footwear News

Louis Vuitton is embarking on a safari for spring ’17. Designer Kim Jones took on the much-pursued theme for his latest men’s collection but made it fresh with a slight punk attitude via clashing and spray-paint-effect knitwear. The shoes were certainly fit for an adventure-seeker. Outdoorsy sandals — a trend that’s been dominating the runways at Prada, MSGM and Versace — were strappy and offered in black, beige or gray. Creepers and chunky loafers were finished in ponyhair zebra prints, or a woven plaid that matched the clothes.

Compared to the label’s futuristic-leaning womenswear collections by Nicolas Ghesquière, the collection here had more of a retro sensibility — with a dash of inspiration from Yves Saint Laurent’s iconic safari jackets, we’re sure. In a men’s market where accessories are often pushed to the backside, Jones offered a potent collection of bags and shoes (though the khaki trenches weren’t bad, either). Personal Review

Dolce & Gabbana and Moschino made animal print look fun and exciting in their shows; Louis Vuitton’s collection used animal print, but in a clean and sophisticated way. Other shows that used animal print added electric colors, but Louis Vuitton used earthy, muted colors. There was definitely a safari theme throughout the entire collection. I liked that Louis Vuitton kept the collection looking classy. MAISON MARGIELA Vogue.com

The bench of British editors seated across the soaringly beautiful marble runway at Maison Margiela were already a picture of post-Brexit misery. Yet as the first chords of Leonard Cohen’s “Last Year’s Man” were strummed over the PA, their faces fell further.

This pretty quintessential Margiela menswear collection nicely fitted the mood of a day in which what was last night unthinkable was this morning horribly real. The clothes were the product of the exquisite agony of disruption: guts-on-the outside suiting, quartered Chelsea boots, shirts half- tacked irregularly together by hook and eye, pants turned up as an afterthought. Oversize MA1s worn over knits pulled down over short shorts that gave the impression of mini and some rib-knit shorts attached at the front by popper to a racer-back crop-back tank top were considerably subversive. Hokey hunting illustrations—hounds pursuing mallards—graced fluid silk shirts worn over paper bag–cinched olive pants.

These images returned on pants worn below an off-lime textured blazer with four patch pockets at each hip. What was once together was untogether. On Margiela’s runway it looked convincing, alluring, interesting. That didn’t cheer the Brits up, of course. Certainly not this one. WWD

This was a mellow spring offering by Maison Margiela, and not just because models were strolling to the soothing tunes of “Last Year’s Man,” delivered by Leonard Cohen.

There was cool and carefree tailoring based on soft shoulders and insouciantly rolled up cuffs. The elongated jacket of a tranquil suit done up in a Prince of Wales check was gently enveloped by a ribbon, while a run of fluid trenchcoats came with slightly bell-shaped sleeves favoring freedom of movement over conventions.

Sending out more conceptual silhouettes, the design team conjured some interesting alternatives that could easily resonate with a younger and more moody consumer. Cue exposed basting stitches on suit jackets, which turned the crafty handwork into decoration, adding an edgy vibe to an old- man’s staple.

The unfinished constructions also upped the ante of shirts, some of which were patched together from contrasting fabrics — chambray, knit and poplin — or were buttoned instead of sewn, accentuating the season’s DYI spirit. When styled with athletic tear-away pants and folded loafers, they oozed a fresh, youthful vibe. The guys look as if they had just crawled out of bed, though one had to admire their quick-wittedness to put on clothing that actually made sense regardless of its rugged, yet never random character. Business of Fashion

There was a palpable melancholy to the Maison Margiela show, and not just because of the bluesy soundtrack and the enchanting location — full of marble busts. The undone quality which permeated everything looked like a reflection on time: its passing, and the effect that has on objects and lives. Hence, outfits looked like they were half finished, or peeling off; snap buttons in place of stitches allowed for shirts to be completely taken apart.

It made for a remarkable outing which also highlighted Margiela's double faced identity at the moment. In fact, while has set a wholly new and entirely personal template in the womenswear, the menswear keeps a stronger bond with Martin, the originator. At this point, this must be an intentional business plan, and somehow it is so contradictory it is fascinating, or just puzzling. Personal Review

This collection gave off a very carefree vibe, as the clothes were loose fitting. The colors were earthy tones, reminding me of something a nomadic traveler would wear on his voyage. Vogue.com Karl Aberg, the archly entertaining actuator of Marc Jacobs’s vision for Marc Jacobs menswear, acknowledged this evening that next Spring’s collection was as closely aligned to women’s Resort as it has been recently. You only needed to recognize the MTV logo to see that, and it was here in sequins with a sub-pattern of palm trees on a purple sweatshirt. An awesome picture of Keith Richards looking absolutely in the zone from 1974 was the visual kernel of Aberg’s particular vision for this collection: Like Richards, it featured animal, stripes, and a wide-eyed dissolute raffishness. Shots of bright color, pink and orange predominantly, fired through a multigenerational palette of street-sourced grunginess. So the checkerboard prints on open-necked shirts and pajama suits bore the faintest mark of bleach-spatter. There were ’90s raver pants and pink leopard shirts, skinny-ringer logo tees, tumbled-stud denim, stitched-in-pleat tracksuit pants in lovely tropical-weight wool, broken-stitch knits in cashmere silk (also strong for Resort), and some nice check shirts whose slightly drab check was happily zhooshed by the faintest golden hit of Lurex thread. A panne velvet tuxedo in black with ribboned pockets and a killer olive and gold sequin tiger-print jacket were the most winning evening pieces. A military section featured oversize olive , an authentically drab M-65 (with a palm-tree pin), and nylon pieces with tiger-camo paneling. And there were rainbows, too. Yet again this was a collection that merited the scrutiny of lying bare on the rail. WWD

Keith, Mick, Sebastian, Robert and Marc. They all figured in another spirited Marc Jacobs men’s collection, whose verve came through even on racks in the sleepy Milan showroom of Staff International.

The leopard and checkerboard prints — worn with inimitable flair by a young Keith Richards on the mood board — came sun-bleached or dyed Pepto-Bismol pink for groovy shirts, sweaters and spangled jackets. Bandmate Mick Jagger, whose shoulders have shimmied many a spangled blouson, was pictured, too. Jacobs’ jackets came shrunken with contrast piping, shown over ballooning pants.

The final three protagonists were behind the three principal suit shapes — a sleek two-button for Marc Jacobs chief executive officer Sebastian Suhl — while the designer’s namesake version oozed the Seventies with its meaty, peaked lapels and flaring pants. The one named after Jacobs’ longtime business partner Robert Duffy, who last year stepped down from day-to-day operations, was a more relaxed model with drawstring pants.

The men’s effort also reflected themes in Jacobs’ feisty resort collection — an ode to the Eighties — with the same pièce de résistance: An oversize cashmere sweater with a sparkly MTV logo. Fashionisto

Marc Jacobs took on rock style for its spring-summer 2017 men’s collection. Channeling music icons such as Keith Richards and Mick Jagger, a mix of tailoring and flashy details set the tone for the season. Making a case for the original MTV generation, the label unveiled shirts and sweaters with a graphic appeal. Dressed in checkerboards, leopard and stripes, the selection accented oversize trousers, satin bomber jackets, cigarette fit jeans and sharp lean overcoats. Personal Review

Suspenders, ties, and sweaters made this collection look a little nerdy to me, in a good way. Overall I loved this season for Marc Jacobs. An ode to the 80’s, this collection is very youthful looking. If I was a disc jockey, this would be my go to collection this season. I really enjoyed the colors. MARNI Vogue.com

There’s a kooky offness to Marni’s womenswear offerings, an intriguing quirkiness inherent in its signature combinations of daffy jewelry, oddball prints, strange colors, and out-of-whack proportions. Generally, it’s so wrong it’s right—all of that strange stuff adds up to something intriguing and engaging. A goofball elegance. Hitherto, it’s been lamentably missing from their menswear—maybe it’s a trickier sell? Or maybe Consuelo Castiglioni just took time to get her guy into his runway groove.

Whatever. Who cares? This Spring season, Marni got its man down pat. It was brilliant to see.

For Spring 2017, Castiglioni got stuck on Velcro. No pun. Well, maybe a little. It’s a simple idea, but it was deftly handled. She ran amok with the stuff, hacking shirts open and suspending them from tabs in bands of contrast colors; slapping Velcro on bands and belts to twist and distort the fit of cotton poplin tops; or simply substituting it for buttons on otherwise straight-up tailored jackets. It was all were reminiscent of the kind of easy-fasten shoes you give to preschoolers who can’t handle laces, there’s often a childlike glee to Marni’s clothes, no matter how sophisticated the end results may seem. Most interestingly, most every piece of the tailoring was sliced open in back and re- fastened with Velcro panels. Those clothes looked like hospital . A few of the floral prints wound up looking like microbes under a microscope. How dorky. How Marni.

There were plenty of details that felt like they would appeal to that kind of Marni man—and even if you’re not one, you know those guys exist. The Marni man is gangly, skinny, invariably behind horn-rimmed spectacles, nose buried in a book, probably the source of inspiration for a Wes Anderson film. He’s interested in science, in art. He doesn’t own a television. He possibly wears corrective shoes—or maybe just like shoes that seem a little orthopedic. And he’ll hopefully have enough money to spend on satisfyingly tricked-out gear like this, full of details and buttons and tabs to keep busy hands entertained for days. The stereotypical masculine love of the “gadget” applies to these clothes. Geek chic. He’s carried a briefcase since he was 6—Marni offered a whole bunch more.

That was a bit glib. On a deeper level, it felt like Castiglioni finally nailed how to convey her Marni man on the stage of the runway—how the clothes should fit, how they should move, how that final “fashion” image should look, to express her message of masculinity. There is a message, too: intellectual, awkward, an interesting man in interesting clothes. Men who we are, finally, interested in getting to know more about. Bravo. WWD

Awkward proportions, which can be a signpost of that tender moment between boyhood and manhood, seem to be a perpetual fascination chez Marni. It was amplified in Consuelo Castiglioni’s uneven spring collection.

Insurance-salesman trenchcoats and beige leisure suits slipped from the narrow frames of the gangly models, for these garments were sliced up the back and held together, partially, by Velcro strips. It was hard not to think of hospital gowns (albeit minus the risk of mooning).

Or were these tear-away clothes part of what seemed to be a subliminal bondage theme, evident in straps lashed across the chests of suits and coats, and the fabric harnesses dangling from the waistbands of cropped pants — an emerging trend this European season. Marni’s came with square portholes above the ankle. Wide lace-up shoes and sandals, some ungainly as duck feet, accentuated the geek-chic attitude.

There were cute items, notably pert leather blousons, retro ski sweaters and shirts with shoulder tucks that actually gave the shoulders some width — a hint of grownup chic. Business of Fashion

There was nothing boring at Marni, where Consuelo Castiglioni keeps fine-tuning her idea of a young man who is both pensive and bold, quiet and outspoken. As it often happens for this label, the collection had its roots in workwear: velcro closures and open backs on coats pointed strongly towards lab coats, butcher gear and other manifestations of utility.

It was done in the most non-literal of ways, of course, because Castiglioni favors quirkiness and intelligent unpredictability. The subcultural nods were particularly effective: bondage straps of unmistakable punk roots were treated as graphic elements, landing tailored jackets and flat-front slacks a charmingly chaotic feel. As for colours, apart from light blue, there were no pale pastels, while striking shots of orange lit a classic base of khaki and deep blue. It worked wonderfully, suggesting a dryly humorous mix of the academic and the rebellious. Personal Review

Geek chic. This season was quirky and eclectic for Marni. The line was fun and youthful. I could see a lot of men wearing these clothes. MISSONI Vogue.com Angela Missoni recalled pre-show that when the family firm first burst forth, her father, Ottavio, was often asked the same question. “They wondered if he was bothered by all the copies you could see everywhere that had taken their inspiration from Missoni. And what he used to say is: ‘Up in the Andes they were already copying me a thousand years ago’. So this is a nice homage.” Strictly, this collection was inspired by a nation a little west of the Andes, but you could see what both father and daughter meant. Missoni’s uniquely dense kaleidoscopes of color do seem to have an affinity with South American artisan weaves. The Missoni family traveled to that continent when Angela was 15, and a jacket she bought in Guatemala provided the touchstone for this collection. The opening half of the show was a loose, easy assembly of knit, shorts, suiting, zip-up tracksuit tops and shirts—some rendered in Tikal triangles of Missoni knit— interspersed with breton striped and cotton field jackets printed with bird of paradise camouflage. As wide-weave leather sandals were replaced with Cuban heeled, sling-strapped shoes paneled in brown suede and calf we entered a second phase of fantasy South American cowboy. The straw hats were as wide-brimmed as the pants were high-hemmed: These came with a little flare, in white and indigo denim and, later, more rich weave. This was a sweet non-literal return to a geographically distant realm with particular resonance to clan Missoni. WWD

A trip to Guatemala was on Angela Missoni’s mind as she conceived her spring collection, bathed in a rich palette of contrasting colors and patterns harkening back to Guatemalan traditional costumes. “It was the first trip I took with my mother. I was 15, and I have wanted to go back ever since,” the designer divulged backstage.

This translated into a run of relaxed silhouettes made of loose T-shirts, Bermuda shorts and long scarves wrapped around the models’ waists as ethnic belts.

Missoni also embroidered loosely knit sweaters with colorful quetzals, the country’s national bird, which in one instance were worn inside a pair of cropped, bell-shaped denim trousers. The jazzy birds reappeared woven into V-neck vests and as camouflage prints on utility jackets, accentuating the collection’s happy-cute vibe.

As the show progressed, the lineup steered dramatically into gaucho territory. Cue Western shirts and blousons embroidered with gold and silver threads, worn inside trimmed white denim pants, matched with cropped pointy toe boots and gaucho hats. Missoni lovingly referred to them as her “Gautemalan cowboys.” Business of Fashion

Angela Missoni, meanwhile, continues expanding and exploring her idea of the nonchalant adventurer. The Missoni man is a charmer who favours en plein air scenarios and clothing that is wonderfully arty in texture and pattern whilst looking wonderfully easy in terms of use and practicality. Which, somehow, is both the plus and the minus of the label. At first glance, each collection is more or less always the same. On a closer inspection, though, patterns and even shapes evolve endlessly. This season, the voyage landed in the countryside, amongst hat-wearing cowboys and gauchos, keeping a multicultural tingle: bermuda shorts appeared on the runway, together with scarves worn like around the waist. It worked: the collection felt upbeat and catchy, only a tad monotonous. Personal Review

The models looked like real Guatemalan cowboys, who just came back from riding their horses all day. This is the only collection I’ve seen so far with this vibe. The colors and patterns used on the fabric looked beautiful, and the clothing looked very soft and comfortable to wear. MONCLER GAMME BLEU Vogue.com At the heart of Moncler is camping—not a reference to the schlocky, big-top shows Thom Browne stages for the brand, but in the old-fashioned tarpaulin and sleeping-bag sense. When first founded in 1952, Moncler produced quilted sleeping bags, a single model of cagoule, and tents. All three were on display in Browne’s Spring Moncler Gamme Bleu show, direct from the archives. The Jellystone Park setting of turf and fir trees, and a duo suited like Yogi Bears in mascot-style stripping each model down and setting them on their path? That was pure Thom Browne. Browne is an old-fashioned American boy at heart—which exports well to Europe, with its false nostalgia for an American heritage already half-known through film and television, but not as cliched as it appears stateside. Ironically, the American often rears its head most evidently in Browne’s work for this Italo-French company. Absence makes the heart grow fonder? This show, with its 40 perfectly pitched tents and well-dressed models doing the rounds, was a campsite scene straight out of a Hollywood movie. “It’s really just a simple story,” said Browne, citing American boy Scouts and Smokey rather than Yogi as his inspiration. To lay out a little of the plot synopsis, the models marched out in floor-length cagoule–sleeping bag hybrids; the bears went down to the wood and gruffly wrestled each cagoule off each model to reveal their underpinnings. Spoiler alert: The stuff under comprised the actual collection. The two bears then sent the boys on their way, ringing-round Moncler’s campsite. After, they each retired to one of those tents, unfurling their cagoule as a mattress to bivouac down. “I like the entertainment value,” shrugged Browne. The focus of the garments was utility, as befits a scout-inspired show—along with the shorts Browne so adores. Many a model’s well-scrubbed knees glinted like apples below acres of exposed thigh. But back to the utility. “With Moncler, you want to make sure people see utility in the clothes,” said Browne. “Almost taking utility to an exaggerated extreme.” So pockets bristled on everything from knee-high socks (impractical) to the backs of jackets (impractical-er) to safari and field-style jackets and standard wide-cut country garb. An added utilitarian bent came from technical fabrications, and , waterproofing, thermo-bonding, and even old-fashioned techy like or cavalry twill. Played out in earthy hues of acorn, khaki, midnight blue, and black, there was a rustic charm to these clothes, a retro skew to the ’50s, when Moncler itself began, and an obvious wearability. Mostly—a surfeit of astrakhan underlined Moncler Gamme Bleu as the deluxe line of the label, but it’s not exactly everyday, nor easy for most men to pull off. Dissecting Browne’s looks—generally single-hued or smothered in a wide, picnic-blanket plaid—and adding long pants changes your perception: from camp (in both senses of the word) MGM rural coming-of-age tale to valid retail proposition. Art as commerce. You can’t get much more all-American than that. Business of Fashion

Monotony is always the byword at Moncler Gamme Bleu. Thom Browne, ever the well-to-do prankster, likes repetition. A lot. Each season he explores a theme this way and that, to the point of visual saturation. This time, his summer camp inspiration gave fuel to an absurdist foray into boy scout regalia, complete with outsized pockets, shorts and protective rainwear. Due to the offbeat, awkward proportions, it all looked deliriously funny, but as it is generally the case with Browne, the humor was killed by the intensity of the repetition. Jokes, you know, are more effective when they are short. As for the return on investment of an experiment like this — amusing, yet commercially pointless — within the Moncler empire, the question remains unanswered. WWD Thom Browne wanted to lend a bit of Americana to Moncler, so he drafted none other than Smokey Bear. Clearly, when Smokey’s done extinguishing fires, he likes nothing better than upping the fashion quotient in the forest. Two humans — dressed as bears — walked up and down a set that featured white pup tents, tall pine trees, a field of grass and a lineup of models dressed in hooded anoraks-cum-sleeping bags. The bears pulled off models’ sleeping gear only to reveal luxed-up forest rangers dressed in an array of solid or checked short-sleeved shirts, sleeveless vests, shorts and cargo pants. Asked backstage what he was thinking, Thom Browne didn’t hesitate: “Boy Scouts,” he said, adding that the fabrics — as always — were specially developed for Moncler, and featured a mix of the technical and classic, including gummy plastic, rubber printed cotton, nylon, cashmere and linen. Models, dragging their sleeping bags in one hand, strode around the vast space in jackets, shirts and capes, all with sturdy patch pockets adorned with shiny gold snaps. Their clothes came in rich materials — such as astrakhan intarsia, cashmere and nubby linen — or innovative ones such as a rubbery plastic for long raincoats. The brown, forest green and khaki check pattern (which bore a faint resemblance to that of a well-known British brand) came with rubberized stripes or shiny finishes. While most of this jaunty collection featured sand and khaki tones, there were also pops of navy and olive, as in a sleek-looking pair of corduroy cargo pants. Time to send a smoke signal that the bear knows how to dress. Personal Review

This show was very monotonous and repetitive. The collection was youthful looking, as it reminded me of a group of boy scouts. I did not particularly like this show. I found the clothing boring for the most part, however, there were individual pieces that I did like. MOSCHINO Vogue.com Jeremy Scott’s joint Resort and men’s show in L.A. tonight was an ode to uber-groovy psychedelic glam, an over-the- top cultural mish-mash of ’60s references, and, in the end, pretty much exactly what we’ve come to expect from this marquee-driving master of kitsch. “I just wanted to make something fun,” Scott said backstage before the show, “something a little theatrical, something colorful, and upbeat, and bright, that my SoulCycle instructor, and neighbors, and the pop stars who I adore, who are also my neighbors, could come and see together.” Well, mission accomplished. The show, part of Made Los Angeles, mixed those ’60s beats (the decade when, Scott noted, Los Angeles really came into its own) and the designer’s personal, piled-on “more is more” aesthetic, all made of froth and prints and belly chains worn below expanses of smooth skin. Giant floral pool floats sat as a centerpiece, and it was all plopped smack in the middle of downtown Los Angeles at L.A. Live. An audience swollen with a specific breed of L.A. celebrity (typically pneumatic in their proportions, which sort of makes sense, considering Scott’s love of cartoon) watched big- ticket models like , Devon Aoki, Alessandra Ambrosio, and Iman strut out in tops and oversize mod pageboy caps, crocheted crop tops and flared Indian mirror-embroidered pants, patchwork and sequins and studded leathers, and swingy printed with the same psychedelic daisies found on Scott’s tracksuit backstage. A joint WME/IMG venture, the show was open to the public, and tickets had been priced between $55 and $400 (though there were rumors of scalper involvement, so who knows the final cost for some). These had quickly been snapped up by the brand’s fans—and boy, does the brand have fans: Multiple generations turned out in Moschino or Scott’s eponymous line. “That’s a Jeremy baby carriage,” explained one PR backstage, as what must have been the littlest showgoer was perambulated through. (In Europe, the PR added, one version of the stroller comes complete with golden wings.) But back to the show. Slated, as it was, for the first day of L.A.’s Pride weekend, male parade-goers and other fun loving fellows could certainly do worse than Scott’s brightly printed briefer-than- (Speedos, really) and neon color-blocked moto jacket, his tie-dyed trousers and skinny kaleidoscope-like printed pants, or his slim-cut tangerine- color lace suiting, which turned up in a ladies’ cut near the end. Men’s sandals were futuristic, strappy, and possessing the requisite funk to rank their wearer among the best dressed at Burning Man—yellow pom-poms! woven iridescent straps!—while the embroidered brogues will find many happy buyers more suited to the concrete jungle. There were plastic leis and papier-mâché bangles, embroidered versions of the Moschino moto jacket bag, mirror sequined go-go boots, little crocheted purses that looked charmingly homespun, and a recurring motif of cartoon tigers, cobras, teddy bears, monkeys, and at least one heavily bejeweled pink elephant, a sort of rave-ready Ganesh, present to watch over Scott’s growing flock. WWD Anyone familiar with Jeremy Scott and his work as creative director for Moschino comes to one of his runway shows anticipatin g colorful, playful clothes infused with happiness and cheek that leave the audience feeling uplifted, humored, or at least bobbing along with the music. That was the hope for what a major fashion show like Moschino would do for the Los Angeles fashion show scene. On both counts, it succeeded. The combined men’s spring 2017 and women’s resort 2017 show Scott presented on Friday night at the L.A. Live Event Deck was both a love letter to his a dopted hometown and a boon for the city that has been winning on nearly every front of late except the runway scene. Supported by his loyal BFF Katy Perry, who said, “I’d never miss one of Jeremy’s shows,” as well as a cadre of pop songstresses and starlets including Jhene Aiko, Christina Milian, Vanessa Hudgens and Bella Thorne, plus famous LGBT faces Caitlyn Jenner, Candis Cayne, Soko and Colton Haynes, Scott created the sort of entertainment event that felt at home in a venue that also hosts musical headliners and Hollywood awards shows. “It’s Jeremy, so only the best and most vibrant and colorful is what you expect,” said Amber Rose. “His shows are always very entertaining. That’s why I come to support; he’s a creative genius. And I don’t have to travel all the way to Paris to see him, so it’s awesome.” Indeed, most in the stable of Insta-famous models who prepped backstage to walk the show also didn’t have to travel far. Miranda Kerr, Alessandra Ambrosio, Devon Aoki and Chanel Iman live in Los Angeles, as do celerity progeny Hailey Baldwin, Anwar Hadid, Cami Morrone (Al Pacino’s step-daughter), and Presley Gerber (Cindy Crawford’s son).

“I have to be on the red eye so many times a month that it’s always a treat to be able to do something fashion here in the ci ty. L.A. needs more fashion people and I feel like they are starting to get the vibe that I got nine years ago,” said Ambrosio. Crawford said she was “trying not to be an embarrassing mom” when she went backstage with husband Rande Gerber and daughter Kaia to wish her son good luck on his first show (she did cause a mini- commotion for the many camera crews backstage). “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall because this is my son’s first ti me in this kind of environment. We live in Malibu, which is a great place to grow up, but they are both teenagers now and they are ready for mor e stimulation from meeting new people,” Crawford said. At 14, Kaia was waiting for her turn on the catwalk. “I want to when I’m old enough,” she said. In the meantime, she was soaking in the vivid set. “It’s so inspiring to see that,” she said. “I wish I was that creative.” For his part, Scott was the most relaxed he’s ever been pre-show. “It’s so much fun for me to show at home. First of all, I drove myself here in my own car, and I was just doing my fittings at Milk Studio, like, seven minutes from my house. It was so wonderful and peaceful for me to be able to work here.” He also noted that it was a pleasure to welcome not only his famous and fashion friends, but also “neighbors and my favorite SoulCycle instructor. It feels very loving and familiar.” He mined his surroundings for design inspiration. “I was thinking of all the different vibes I love here, from the hippie-dippy Sixties look to the multiple cultures and how we all coexist,” he said.

That was evident in the Summer of Love, psychedelic colors and silhouettes — flared pants, midriff-baring tops, maxidresses — and the multiple ethnic embellishments such as Shisha-inspired mirror and Sangallo embroideries. Even in the contemporary sportswear, sexy swimwear and sophisticated suiting, there was a riot of color and texture: fine-gauge knits, patchwork crochet, holographic floral appliqués. “I like the idea of all those different hand techniques and cultural things. I even did Pop Goths in all black with sunny embroidery or appliqués. I was tr ying to play with different archetypes like the cool girls who would be, like heading down Melrose totally done up in the daytime. I just played with wha t I think about L.A. Maybe it’s my heightened-volume, turned-up version of it, but it’s how I see it and what I love about it.” Scott also incorporated his own way of dressing, such as the multilayered beaded necklaces he’s been wearing lately, into the collection. “I hope people enjoy the show but also just enjoy the whole atmosphere.” “Empire” starlet Serayah McNeill was impressed by the lengths that Moschino went to stage the show. “I was just talking to Christina about it,” she said, glancing around for Milian, who scooted away after their photo opp together. “I’ve never been to anything so big here.” An exuberant Soko summed it up by saying, “I loved Jeremy’s show because he brings all the freaks out, all these different people whom people can rela te to. It’s such an achievement, it’s a great f—ing moment for L.A. fashion.” Editorialist Nobody is having more fun these days than Jeremy Scott at Moschino. And why shouldn’t he? With each passing season it seems as if his ideas only get zanier and his productions bigger – a fact that was made all the more evident at the designer’s buzzed-about Resort ‘17 runway show on Friday night. Held in Los Angeles at the impressive L.A Live Event Deck space, the star-studded event – Katy Perry, Cindy Crawford and Caitlyn Jenner were among those in attendance – served as an ode to the psychedelic ‘60s, fearlessly blending flower power references with elements of retro Cali culture and classic hippy motifs. Aided by an army of including Miranda Kerr, Alessandra Ambrosio, Jourdan Dunn and Devon Aoki, Scott presented a cheeky lineup that featured all of the kitschy hallmarks of the decade: i.e. groovy bra tops, flared trousers, trippy floral prints and oversized mod pageboy hats. Elsewhere, the theme manifested itself into a riot of color and texture -- among the more memorable looks, a pair of swingy pantsuits printed with psychedelic daisies and a crocheted teamed with flared mirror-embroidered pants. As is the case with every one of Scott’s collections, these were certainly not clothes for the faint of heart. Nor were the accessories. Much like his previous McDonalds and Barbie-inspired offerings, this season’s add-ons drew from Scott’s wacky sense of humor – designs that seem almost ready-made for Instagram fame. On the feet, that meant flatform sneakers in colorful animal prints, mirror sequinned go-go boots, and for the men, bright floral printed smoking slippers that could just as easily work for the women if so desired. Elsewhere, there was also a plethora of plastic leis and papier-mâché bangles, embroidered versions of the iconic Moschino moto jacket bag, little crocheted purses that looked charmingly homespun, and a recurring motif of cartoon tigers, cobras, teddy bears, monkeys, and at least one heavily bejeweled pink elephant. At the time of print, a number of those quirky had already garnered well over 20,000 likes a piece, proving that for Scott, the fun has only just begun. Personal Review

Just like other Moschino shows, this collection was filled with vibrant color and exciting prints. Moschino combined the menswear and womenswear this season; the number of women’s pieces greatly outnumbered the number of men’s pieces. I loved the overall psychedelic 60’s feel to the collection, though. NEIL BARRETT Vogue.com

Retailers repeatedly informally report that Neil Barrett is hot-to-trot on the rails right now, but it that hot air? Apparently not: “It’s been our best year since we started,” this softly spoken, deeply consistent designer confirmed backstage before this evening’s show. Squinting at the collection that ensued, you could kind of see the intersections of broader taste across Barrett’s own unwavering practice: He incorporates elements of sport and so-called modernist graphics in luxurious fabrications that have a little overlap with the ironic reclamation of early sportswear. But Barrett doesn’t need Cyrillic, and he isn’t a mimic.

Today’s brown-heavy, blue and orange–strafed offering was, Barrett winningly revealed, informed by the clothes worn in the American TV shows he’d watched in the UK as a kid. So the opening group of brown blousons and chore coats in calf and suede tipped a wink to the mighty wardrobes of Starsky & Hutch and Knight Rider. Military shirting with sideways-obtuse buttoning details on the arms and a slightly boxy cut seemed more ’80s navy blockbuster—Top Gun, of course. The sources also dug deep into ’80s sportswear in the knit graphics.

So that was the backdrop. Barrett’s processing of it—“always reinterpreted and reinvented, but never revived”—was to take his seriously masculine templates and apply that reinvention via intarsia inserts and marquetry that traced out a variation of his oft touched-on diagonal graphics. The forensic exactitude to Barrett’s delivery generates a warming friction with the putatively relaxed genre of clothing he tends to examine. Said Barrett: “I take it step by step. I don’t really hype myself. I let other people talk.” As we all should. WWD

Never one to hem and haw in fashion, Neil Barrett went whole hog for Seventies Americana, as if seen from the windows of a Winnebago in Yosemite National Park.

This was a repetitive show. Gosh knows how many leather blousons passed by, most of them in sickly thrift-shop browns with contrasting strips inserted in chevron formation around the ribcage and fanning out over the sleeves. Ditto for the tapered double-knit pants ending in low- cut leather sneakers.

But after a few dozen of those looks passed by in the blinding show space, something funny happened: Barrett won you over with his insistence, and the sly ways he tickles your nostalgia bone.

The button-up short sleeves on camp shirts and T-shirts brought to mind park wardens; Leisure suits in sky-blue denim evoked camera-toting dads at Grand Canyon. He gave everything a boyish charm and a modernist gloss, enhanced by the crisp fabrics and a consistent silhouette. Most exits were voluminous on top and tapering to the bottom, as tempting as a cone of soft serve. Achtung

Mining the past but being very much in the present, Neil Barrett unveiled a powerful collection of contemporary menswear, which was a defiant counter blast to the maximalist, hyper embroidered clothes seen last weekend in London and at many of today’s Italian fashion labels.

Few people combine street with chic as successfully as Barrett who took a simple idea – intarsia – but brilliantly employed it in a whole series of revamped Sixties looks. A little like an early Beatles cover or a couple of characters from cult TV show Get Smart decided to go clubbing in Mykonos. “A little bit vintage to create some modern ideas,” smiled Barrett backstage.

Intarsia zigzags cut into nylon car coats; or laid down in pyramid shape on army shirts. While bold stripes cut diagonally across the chest of trim tops; or marquetry style slashes of bitter orange slid down neat knit sweaters. Frequently used as bold embellishment in haute couture, intarsia can get messy when used in ready-to-wear, but Barrett’s take was full of zest and energy. Staged in a bold neo-classical colonnaded courtyard – again modernized intelligently with a triple runway in minimalist white covered with see-through roof – this was a punchy statement of Milan hipster ready-to-wear at its best. Personal Review

Barrett stuck primarily to a brown and blue color scheme this season. While I don’t typically like those colors together, it looked really good in this collection. The clothing was somewhat simplistic, but had interesting geometric shapes that popped out to give it a little more flair. OFF-WHITE Vogue.com For all the scaling up that Virgil Abloh has achieved in three short years—his men’s collection was granted the penultimate spot on the official calendar, and stores in Soho, Tokyo, and Toronto are forthcoming—Off-White doesn’t yet qualify as established. For now, this works in Abloh’s favor; he can take bigger risks, fine-tune the brand identity, and exist as an outsider-insider. Titled Mirror Mirror, his Spring collection was represented by an imposing image of Parisian architecture—except this wasn’t the actual building, but rather the trompe l’oeil scenography that often conceals construction projects around the city. “A brand can be 100 years old; but the outward facade versus what’s behind it can be totally different,” he explained. So what’s behind Off-White? Essentially, Abloh’s random access theories on representation and authenticity, which speak to a perspective far broader than fashion. And they percolate outward more clearly with his menswear than his women’s, either because he relates better or because it’s ultimately a stricter realm. The screen-printed concert T-shirts and that form his brand’s genetic code have evolved to knitwear with openwork holes and sheer enough to look sweat-drenched. The imagery mixed macabre with symbolic: A W-shaped serpent nailed to a cross that opened the show, followed by a ghoulish hand puncturing a trio of Fs as if someone had just yelled the only expletive that requires “off.” The scorpions seemed significant; as sequin appliques handcrafted in India and patched onto trousers, they were equally gratuitous and glamorous. The ample, high-waisted pants, along with the long coats, suggested liberal sampling; but then Abloh’s strength as a designer still largely comes from the fact that he is an unapologetic fan. Hence a collection rife with riffs on memorabilia: a knitted portrait of Liam and Noel Gallagher, an appropriated WWII A-2 in pliant leather, and soccer scarves heralding his brand. Abloh gave certain guests disposable “cameras" (like all things Off- White, they were packaged and branded in quotation marks) to document the moment from multiple perspectives. These “photographers” were then asked to return the cameras. As a clever mirror-mirror twist, Abloh conceived his own crowd-sourced souvenir. WWD Virgil Abloh has often spoken about his desire to make fashion more inclusive. By posting an open invitation on Instagram to his Off-White men’s show he proved it was not empty talk — even if it meant flouting the guidelines set out by organizers of Paris Fashion Week in light of the state of emergency in France. Luckily, there was no mob scene and no repeat of the fight that broke out between rapper Theophilus London and stylist Ian Connor at Abloh’s book signing a few days earlier. More than 100 kids watched the show standing and later joined the party backstage. Abloh titled the collection “Mirror Mirror,” saying it was all about appearances. “The whole premise of the collection is facade. There’s a facade of every brand, whether it’s a monogram or a logo – something you know,” he said during a preview. In Off-White’s case, that would be its signature diagonal stripe motif, which appears on everything from sweatshirts to sneakers and socks. He expanded the repertoire this season with a series of intarsia knits and sheer white logo T-shirts, which were paired with tweed basketball shorts or overlong plaid pants. Abloh name-checked Oasis frontman Liam Gallagher, who inspired his collaboration with Umbro on items including a patchwork plaid top. He brought in artist Brendan Fowler, who created fabric replicas of his stacked photographs that were pinned to the front of a hoodie or the back of a coat. The designer and his contemporaries — among them Demna Gvasalia and Gosha Rubchinskiy — are taking on the establishment by operating in a pack and some crossover between the various lines was apparent in this collection. The kids who thronged the show can’t get enough. Hype Beast

OFF-WHITE’s capsule with football brand Umbro brought forth an interesting array of sportswear staples, including jerseys and shorts, fused with punk-inspired patchwork and graphic heavy pieces for the brand’s 2017 spring/summer collection. Classic patterns dominated the runway as plaid, gingham and pinstripes were seen on baggy trousers and elongated outerwear, topped off with a scorpion motif. Hints of religious iconography were also seen as a cross coupled with a serpent, along with skeletons were strewn across distressed tees and white mesh tops. The color palette further evoked a darker ambiance as a sea of black, navy and red hues took center stage. A few standout items from the lineup included an all-white collaborative sneaker, leather bombers with bold visuals, and a red tartan training jacket bearing both OFF-WHITE and Umbro logos. Personal Review

This was a really interesting collection. Each piece was unique, but the collection flowed together well. Virgil Abloh used a lot of plaids and cool graphics on his clothes. The main three colors used were red, white, and black. This collection was characterized by long coats and sweaters. OFFICINE GENERALE Vogue.com

The guesswork that frequently arises when viewing a fashion show is not an issue at Officine Générale, largely because Pierre Mahéo writes a personal statement providing a window into his life over the course of his creation process. This season, he candidly shared that inspiration was not coming easily through the spring when Paris felt inescapably glum. Only upon returning from a getaway to the Hotel Il Pellicano, an Italian oasis with a rich cinematic history, did the collection gel. “When you’re out of your context, that’s when you can be the best sponge,” Mahéo said post- show. Accordingly, the lineup progressed from a sharp spirit defined by a technical trench and a new bomber style made from his “Storm System” water-repellant material (both unquestionably desirable to anyone fed up with dressing for days of rain), to an assortment of sophisticated sportswear featuring indigo seersucker, Japanese jersey, and a nautical accord of navy, red, and yellow. The penultimate look—a white shirt artfully untucked and slightly frayed at its non-collar, slacks the shade of wet sand, and crisscrossed leather sandals—made the point that the Left Bank and Tuscany actually aren’t so far apart.

But to describe the collection in strictly narrative terms would be to overlook how Mahéo turns refined materials into straightforward clothes—an imperative driven, he said, by designing exactly what he wants to wear. He explained the pleated pants with a respectably dropped crotch as “a big recipe” that was specific to summer-weight fabrics, and noted how a shadowed palm tree–patterned shirt straddled day and night. Slippers in Venetian velvet conveyed this notion, too. The takeaway was that Mahéo had adapted his circumstances to an adaptable offering. “It’s an effort to be true,” he said, adding that he encouraged the fresh-faced models to smile if they wished. Many did. WWD

Quintessential Parisian style is often summed up with the phrase “je ne sais pas quoi,” which essentially refers to an attitude of carelessness paired with subtly calculated risk. It’s a paradox, but a fascinating one, and Pierre Mahéo, himself a Left Bank resident, usually captures it in his collections. But the designer admitted that, for spring, he needed a little boost from a friendly neighboring country. “I had a hard time putting myself in the summer mood. Go figure why,” he wrote in his show notes, adding how the somber mood in Paris following the city’s tragic events and the constant threats “left a bitter taste in my mouth.” In April, voluntarily exiled himself “to a little piece of heaven in Tuscany” to find inspiration.

The cuts were clearly in Officine Generale’s territory — charming pleats over loose hips as seen on cropped carrot trousers, fitted suede jackets with a workwear zest, and no-nonsense knits. But the fabrics took cues from the Italian sun. Among the standouts were beautiful, indigo-washed seersucker used for light summer tailoring; a few palm-tree prints on sheer, open shirts, and striped pajama tops, which Mahéo assured would be equally at home on the beach and the street.

Elsewhere, the designer stuck to his formula of transseasonal dressing, sending out outerwear pieces that were done up in ’s water-repellent storm system, such as a lean, tailored trench in silk-wool, styled with black velvet slippers from Venice. Travels inspire, without a doubt. Merino

In the wake of the terror attacks on Paris, it’s no doubt that Left Bank resident Pierre Mahéo had a sombre taste in his mouth. The Officine Générale designer self-exiled himself in April “to a little piece of heaven in Tuscany” to find inspiration. “I had a hard time putting myself in the summer mood. Go figure why,” he wrote in his show notes.

Drawing inspiration from the Tuscan sun for Officine Générale spring 2017 Paris men’s show, lightweight shirts adorned with palm trees matched with a cropped tailored pant could easily find their place on a beach promenade or any urban street. But this is no regular bright Hawaiian shirt: subtly printed in a charcoal grey the palette reflects Mahéo’s mood as he temporarily departs his beloved Paris.

Elsewhere, lightweight knits in red added a pop of colour, with blue and black sweaters also finding their rightful place in the collection. Perhaps the most interesting use of wool was in the outerwear pieces, made up in Loro Piana’s Storm System® fabric. This innovative wool blend water and wind repellent fabric was crafted into a tailored trench with protection against the elements. Personal Review

The colors of this collection are mainly black and white with pops of primary colors. This show was not very exciting. The clothes looked nice, but there was no wow factor to this collection in my opinion. PAUL & JOE Vogue.com

The Paul & Joe show took place on a barge-cum-nightclub, where the models also disembarked to the adjacent embankment, expanding the runway into public space on a Friday at dusk. It was a friendly gesture—somewhat akin to Givenchy’s Spring ’16 dockside defilé—that wouldn’t have been possible three weeks ago when this stretch of the city was submerged under a swollen Seine. But last night, Sophie Mechaly, ever upbeat, said she believed all would return to normal in time to present a refreshed vision. The men’s and Resort collections were near mirrors of each other, with the opening looks showcasing a grayscale floral print inspired by Robert Mapplethorpe (loosely, no sexual charge) that suggested a more relevant look than seasons past. And indeed, as the show continued, a grouping of crisp khakis, patchwork denim, and deconstructed pinstripe pieces confirmed as much.

Mechaly, who hinted at working with a new creative sidekick, said she realized it was time to move past the ’70s spirit, leaving the cutesy shtick behind for something sharper but equally youthful. Guys dressed in sweater-to-sneaker pink, and girls wearing toned down tops with slouchy trousers picked up on trends set elsewhere without feeling entirely déjà-vu. A statement more zeitgeist than fashion was made with a T-shirt that appeared to read “Available” underneath a light wool blazer; later in the lineup, a sweatshirt boasted “Unavailable” in a banner, as if a point of pride. Either or both will sell well in the age of Tinder. But catching up is not the same as forging ahead, so it will be interesting to watch how Paul & Joe progresses from this moment. For now, Mechaly’s franglais description of “une bonne vibe” will do. Vanity Teen

Inspired by the artwork Flowers from Robert Mapplethorpe (him again), Paul & Joe introduced its SS17’s collection on a boat floating on the Seine. Personal Review

This was another collection that combined the menswear with the womenswear. The use of florals was prevalent. The colors in this show were neutral with hints of light pink and light blue. PHILIPP PLEIN Vogue.com

“Sorry we are running late”—said Philipp Plein, breezily addressing a bank of TV reporters 13 minutes after his show was due to start at 9 p.m. last night—“but this is fashion!”

At 9:39 p.m., as we sat in the bleachers of Plein’s impressive basketball set, we noticed a countdown time on a suspended scoreboard read 21 minutes, and declining. For heaven’s sake, this isn’t Prada: He wouldn’t, would he?

Well this is Philipp Plein, so of course he would. We sat listening to a loop recording of “Philipp Plein radio,” whose blandishments to buy Plein were funny the first time round but less so the fifth. Then, at last, action. A honey-voiced, sharp-suited MC came out and urged each bleacher—nominally supporters of various fictional basketball teams invented for the collection—to cheer. They piped in the cheering. Then Plein himself came out as a second warmup act to introduce @mrplutus, the masked “designer” of Billionaire Couture, the brand he recently invested in. We were all invited to come along to the presentation on Monday, he said, adding: “We are going to have a lot of fun and have a big party afterwards.” Yes, Philipp, but what about this party? There were a thousand o r so post- show guests waiting outside, and we were now on the wrong side of 10 p.m.

Having just been treated like I was here to rob the place by a moronically aggressive member of the security team, it was all too tempting to let any last reserves of a sense of humor evaporate to the wind. But Plein tends to be worth sticking with. Suddenly this show blossomed, after a slightly fatuous segment featuring two mascots, into something properly fun. First the Harlem Globetr otters came out and did their thing with a basketball delivered via drone. Dunks were slammed, and they were great. Then Busta Rhymes followed and, unlike Lil Wayne at a previous Plein show, he had clearly been briefed that even if you are a world famous rapper, when you exhort a fashion audience to “Raise your hands,” they will cross their arms. Not because we’re not fun, but, you know, we ’re kinda working here—and spontaneous expressions of enthusiasm are pretty rare in this milieu. Still, Busta stuck it out with great humor and hands were duly raised—and not just when they were holding smartphones. Hats off, Busta. Then there were some dancers in tulle-boosted sports and UV body paint who were pretty good.

Then—Woo Hah!!—the clothes! Naturally, at this point the lights were lowered and it was quite hard to make them out. Plus ça change, Philipp. But the baseline was basketball-inspired pieces imprinted with the logos of Plein’s made-up teams in Swarovski. There was black tailoring with orange seam details. The sneakers had those light-up soles and massive straps featuring Plein’s name in gothic-font gold. One motif in Swarowski looked just like the NBA logo. Even through the gloom it was impossible to miss a yellow python bomber. Near the end there was a suit and a basketball outfit patterned with pressed gold rococo whirls and a curly -tailed tiger.

Then, to finish things off, a shedload of silver ticker tape was dumped from the roof as the mascots and the Harlem Globetrot ters and the dancers and Busta Rhymes and of course the models hit the court. And them Plein ran through it all. Without wishing to encourage further lateness and tempt further abuse at the hairy-knuckled hands of security goons, Plein’s total chutzpah is endlessly fascinating, and his spectacles are a mixed delight. It’s the theatre of the absurd. So what basketball team does Plein support? “I’ve never seen a game!” WWD Philipp Plein chose American basketball as the theme for his latest fashion extravaganza. The designer re-created an indoor arena complete with Harlem Globetrotters, mascots, cheerleaders and rapper Busta Rhymes. Before each model arrived on the catwalk, he was projected on a maxi screen to mimic the arrival of NBA players. In keeping with the theme, the collection was focused on luxurious sportswear staples such as shorts pants, bomber jackets, hoodies and oversize knits, crafted from upscale materials such as leather and snakeskin, and embellished with colorful crystal embroideries. These also added some sparkle to distressed denim, while patches were stitched on jackets. The contemporary, street-wise feel of the collection was enhanced by the accessories, including leather backpacks and LED light-up sneakers. Footwear News

Philipp Plein may be a lot of things — fun, a great entertainer, a master maximalist — but a serious designer he is, frankly, not.

His spring ’17 men’s collection chose to go balls-out with its sports theme. Shown at a mock sports stadium — popcorn, cheerleaders and foam fingers and all — the presentation was so wildly over the top that one could barely take in the clothes. Throw an impromptu Busta Rhymes performance into the mix, and we’ve got ourselves a show where fashion is just the afterthought.

Luckily, Plein’s light-up sneaker soles drew the eye immediately. The childish throwback style at least fell in line with the show’s fun, flashy theme. Other shoes in the collection included printed sneakers with oversized tongues, worn with sporty looks that ranged from motorcycle jackets and pants to baseball jackets embellished with crystal skulls — his signature.

Though lightheartedness is appreciated in the jam-packed, intense calendar that is fashion week, we wish the designer would focus more time on, well, designing. The collection relied heavily on its styling choices — sweaters tied around the waist, models holding basketballs as accessories — but didn’t focus on creating memorable individual pieces. And yet, there were some his fans in the crowd, wearing his heavy studded jackets and throwing their foam fingers in the air. Personal Review

This was another collection with quite a few looks to it. The looks were exciting, but some tended to look the same to me. For the most part, each look was unique, though. Overall the collection was sporty, punk, and relaxed. This was a very masculine line. PRADA Vogue.com

Miuccia Prada has often been fascinated with otherness, with the idea of the different, the alien, the unfamiliar. A curiosity inform s her work—a curiosity about people. How they live, what they like, what they may want to wear. It’s not always the foundation of her collections, but it is telling that after a Fall show obsessed with the vagabond and the voyager, Prada returned to travel as her theme for Spring 2017.

That in itself is worth remarking upon. Prada is the queen of the volte-face, after all, wiping the slate clean and reinventing herself, her clothes, sometimes even her label, season after season. For Prada to riff on an idea for two consecutive exits means there’s something deep and meaningful going on. And of course, there is: Migrants are still fleeing war-torn Syria for the European Union, with governments and countries showing deep rifts in their varying responses to a crisis that shows no signs of abating. It was happening in January; it’s continuing today. Prada is reacting to the time in which she is living. “The past is over,” she said backstage—perhaps alluding to the poignant, poetic, and period response of that Fall collection. “I only want to think about the present.”

It’s tough, sometimes, to ally fashion with themes like these without falling into the trap of a patronizing high fashion rehash—Zoolander without the punchline. Nevertheless, fashion has a duty to be a testament to the time in which it is created. And these are troubled, uncertain times—even for Prada, whose turnover has been buffeted by the uncertain global economic situation. This season, Prada’s travelers were marching along a slanted incline—an uphill struggle—to their ultimate goal. And they seemed to be carrying the world on their shoulders, via backpacks bulging with clothes and dangling a pristine pair of brogues. That was a template for every look, a silhouette of skinny trousers—occasionally supplanted by leggings—and slender torso, with a hulking bulk in back.

The Prada nylon backpack is the foundation of the label’s success. Its launch in 1984 catapulted the Prada label from staid Italian luggage manufacturer to the name that set the fashion pulse, resetting the notion of luxury, subverting the idea of status. It was, above all else, utilitarian. And that’s emerging as an underlying theme of the Spring 2017 season. Miuccia Prada not only staked her claim, but underlined her role in inventing it as a postmodern fashion concept.

However, this collection looked far wider than Prada and its storied past. “The goal is to share with other people, other cultures,” said the designer, surrounded by models sporting clothes jokingly printed with Buddhas, elephants, sombreros, or watermelons. She even threw out a mention of Google, as if underlining the simplistic nature of these representations of disparate corners of the world. They were printed onto nylon and zipped up into pac-a-macs.

As befits a collection obsessed with otherness, there was lots here that didn’t feel the same. How to connect a color-pumped and knitted cycle pants with a chunky ribbed sweater and printed shirt, or the fluttering nylon blousons with the slimline suits? You couldn’t. The disparity of this collection was a reflection of its overall theme, as Mrs. Prada traveled constantly from idea to idea, garment to garment. It sometimes even seemed frenzied, so fast was the ideological scramble. The utility notion was evident throughout, though—a lynchpin to hold the whole thing together: The suit, after all, is a utilitarian garment of sorts, as suited for its purpose as a hiking or a windcheater.

When Prada mentioned activewear, I wound up thinking not of the active body, but rather the active mind—hers—darting between themes, constantly exercised, churning through thoughts. Moving Prada on, moving fashion on. Even though these clothes were undoubtedly founded in everyday attire, Miuccia Prada sought to push them onwards, upwards. Her personal travel—her relentless search for the fresh, the new, for exciting territories—is what makes her a great designer. WWD Ready for anything. And open to everything — except retro. Those were among the messages embedded in Miuccia Prada’s energetic parade of psychedelic trekkers, who ascended a metal-mesh ramp in burly socks and glossy sandals, lugging backpacks dangling luxury tchotchkes galore. Not since the launch of Prada Sport in the late Nineties has the Italian designer gone this deep into activewear, lighting up billowing parkas, Windbreakers and zippered rain pants with Stabilo colors, tropical prints, loud checks and graphic stripes. Her women’s resort collection, paraded alongside the men’s wear, was hinged on bubbly dresses with just as many drawstrings, plus sleek satin utility suits. For a dressy brand like Prada, it was unexpected, and felt startlingly new. “I’m kind of finished with vintage,” Prada declared, in her usual giddy post-show mood, a lustrous navy parka tied around her waist. “This idea of traveling, sharing, joining different cultures” is what interests her now. She name-checked Google Earth — along with Iceland, Mexico and India — and perhaps she had in mind the natural disasters increasingly unleashed by an angry planet for her laden models. (The migrant crisis could also be among current events still weighing on her, as she kept a portion of the set from her spellbinding castaway show six months ago.) “Bringing your life with you,” she said, flashing a sweet smile and raising a finger. “Just in case it’s needed.” There was arch humor in the way she dangled pink patent pumps and colorful handbags, as enticing as jelly beans, from the backpacks or tote bags lugged by the female models. “In case you want to have a beautiful evening,” she cooed, and — poof — the normally relentless press corps ran out of questions. For here was a straightforward theme, and an unmissable reminder that clever accessories are the bread and butter of the Italian megabrand, among the luxury players grappling with slower growth. The company also seems to be banking on its fragrance business, licensed to Spain’s Puig. Guests were funneled through a mirrored funhouse of smelling stations for La Femme Prada and L’Homme Prada, the new scents for women and men already hitting stores this week. Here was another not-so- subliminal message: Don’t leave home without a bottle. Business of Fashion Miuccia Prada insisted she’d never heard the word “wanderlust” before, but it lit a fire under her new collection, with its tribe of boys and girls carrying their lives in their backpacks as they trekked into the unknown in their sandals and socks. If travel was the inspiration for the last Prada collections, Mrs P saw those excursions as a journey through the past. Here, we were gazing into the gaping maw of an uncertain future. “I’m full of fear,” she said. “I’m optimistic on principle, but I see what is happening around, and my fear is mounting.” Still, she offered a fully formed testament to hope, or, at least, the hope that accompanies youthful idealism. The show’s rave-iness evoked the legendary, ecstasy-soaked summers of love in the late 1980s, Frederic Sanchez’s soundtrack mixing the electro splendour of Faithless with Bedtime Story, the song Bjork wrote for Madonna. “Travelling to the arms of unconsciousness,” sang Madonna. “The trip always has different meanings,” Miuccia added cryptically. For an incisive thinker like Miuccia Prada, it shouldn’t be difficult to put together a collection that repudiates all the bullshit that male-dominated constructs are spewing into the cultural mainstream. There was a sense here that she’s maybe just getting started. In the past, Prada’s collections for men have emphasized male vulnerability, ineffectuality even. What was shown today — a men’s collection for Spring 2017, a Resort collection for women — emphasised the commonality in diversity. The issue is no longer vulnerability; it’s survival, regardless of gender, race, colour or creed. So both collections were about ready-for-anything mobility. It was a fashion show so boys’ backpacks dangled a handy pair of dress shoes. The girls’ dangled heels. So did the last male model’s. (That’s ready for anything.) But the overriding message was The Mix. There was an element of customisation, with embroidery and doodads and ethnic flourishes, ways to individualise your stuff. Otherwise, there was just that reassuring sense of tribalism. Back in some much more secure day, Prada created a world around a black nylon backpack. There it was today, nestled in the middle of a riot of pattern and colour. Back to the source — you know we have no choice but to go there. Personal Review

This collection was very relaxed and was full of fun pops of color. Overall, I wasn’t in love with the collection, though. There were so many individual pieces and looks that I liked, but there were also quite a few that I didn’t care for as much. Prada showed womenswear along with its menswear this season. Prada is another label that is pushing a more unisex look. It was hard to tell sometimes if the look was for a male or female. Depending on how you view it, this could be a good thing or a bad thing. In my opinion Prada nailed the unisex look. Vogue.com

“I wanted to give Pringle a room with a view,” said Pringle of Scotland’s head of design, Massimo Nicosia. He said it against the blazing sunshine of , and below a frescoed ceiling (one of many) in the Palazzo Aldobrandini, a 16th-century mansion that’s played host to popes and looks out spectacularly on the Medici Chapels. So Nicosia got his wish.

Showing as part of frequently permits designers license to thrill with their venue choices. For Nicosia, however, the conversation between Britain and Florence was important: He was looking at A Room With a View—the Merchant Ivory film, rather than the E. M. Forster book, which made him ally 1908 with 1980s for Spring 2017. Add a few screen grabs of Daniel Day-Lewis looking dashing in sepia-toned tailoring and it all ties very neatly into justification for a collection that crossbred Edwardian dandyism (boating stripes, silky trenchcoats) with the sharp graphics characteristic of ’80s English style bibles like The Face and i-D. That notion came across in bright color contrasts, in combinations of argyles and punchy Neville Brody–ish slashes of color, a series of sweaters with intarsia “pins” knitted into the chest, and a fondness for Morrissey. Gladioli-embroidered jeans, anyone?

Where it perhaps doesn’t come across so well is in the lookbook pictures, shot instead of staging a formal runway show (something of a trend this season). The detail gets somewhat lost. Nicosia showed a portfolio of atmospheric images that resembled lost Smiths album covers that far better conveyed his theme. But actually, where the collection worked best was on the rail—specifically, when the rail was honed down to knitwear. The glad-clad jeans will be restricted to Mozza impersonators only, and while the dandy tailoring was fine, others do it better.

What Pringle does best is knit—here, crunchy cotton and cotton-silk mixes stood in for, say, Morrissey’s sweltering Shetland wool, and featherweight sweaters were knitted to be entirely seamless and to feel as soft and supple as a T- shirt. Ironically, considering the focus on the view, it was only when you got your hands on the pieces, felt the weight and texture, that they really sang. “I wanted something that feels honest for Pringle,” says Nicosia. While you understand his urge to build a range and show Pringle’s credentials as a fashion label, not just a knitwear go-to, it was the sweaters that stole the (non) show. No surprise: Pringle’s been doing them since 1815 and is one of the world’s leaders. If it’s honesty we’re after, those should be the focus. Play to your strengths. WWD

Pringle’s collection was inspired by a fusion of early 20th-century and Eighties dress, or as Massimo Nicosia put it: “The idea of watching ‘A Room with a View’ while flipping through a copy of ‘The Face.’”

What unites those two eras is a dandy-ish, romantic sensibility, which Pringle’s men’s wear design director channeled into his roughed-up denim, lightweight knits, textured cotton sweatshirts and soft military jackets.

He re-tooled some youthful staples — based on the wardrobes of bands like the New Romantics — working wilted and crushed flower embroideries onto blue jeans and scribbling on them with a black ballpoint pen.

There was a scruffy, youthful edge to the collection, which also featured an oversized sweater knitted from a caged paper yarn, and sweatshirts woven from coarse cotton. Softer , meanwhile, were knitted to make cropped military jackets or crocheted onto the collars of a twill trench.

Stripes were everywhere, from nautical sweaters to regatta jackets to shirts that were embellished with cutout flower patches made from the same, matching cotton poplin.

Pringle chose not to stage a show in London this season, opting instead to present at Pitti only. Fashionably Male

Pringle’s collection was inspired by a fusion of early 20th-century and Eighties dress, or as Massimo Nicosia put it: “The idea of watching ‘A Room with a View’ while flipping through a copy of ‘The Face.’”

What unites those two eras is a dandy-ish, romantic sensibility, which Pringle’s men’s wear design director channeled into his roughed-up denim, lightweight knits, textured cotton sweatshirts and soft military jackets.

He re-tooled some youthful staples — based on the wardrobes of bands like the New Romantics — working wilted and crushed flower embroideries onto blue jeans and scribbling on them with a black ballpoint pen.

There was a scruffy, youthful edge to the collection, which also featured an oversized sweater knitted from a caged paper yarn, and sweatshirts woven from coarse cotton. Softer yarns, meanwhile, were knitted to make cropped military jackets or crocheted onto the collars of a twill trench.

Stripes were everywhere, from nautical sweaters to regatta jackets to shirts that were embellished with cutout flower patches made from the same, matching cotton poplin.

Pringle chose not to stage a show in London this season, opting instead to present at Pitti only. Personal Review

This collection was sophisticated, and classy looking. Nicosia heavily incorporated stripes into the line. The polished collection appeared very youthful. RAF SIMONS Vogue.com

Earlier this year, the Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation contacted Raf Simons. They asked if he’d like to work with them on something. He said yes. That’s the shorthand version of the story behind the collection he presented at Pitti Immagine Uomo, perfectly chimed with a duo of Mapplethorpe exhibitions at LACMA and the Getty Museum, and the HBO documentary subtitled Look at the Pictures. It was the right time. And Simons is a Mapplethorpe fan, so it was the right artist. “I was honored,” Simons said after his show, his voice vibrating with emotion. Hence he shelved the idea he was working on for a collection (he wouldn’t reveal what it was; it may, he said, come out in a later show) and began his latest artist collaboration.

Normally, when Simons works with an artist, he approaches them. This time, the dynamic had somewhat shifted. The generosity of the Mapplethorpe Foundation’s offer is reflected in the generosity of Simons’s interpretation: There’s no outfit in Simons’s Spring 2017 show that doesn’t feature a photographic print of a Mapplethorpe. His curly-haired male models, with seductively slanted leather biker caps, often bore a striking resemblance to the photographer himself—though Simons stated that, rather than the artist’s doppelgängers, “every boy is a representation of a piece of work.” Each could be a Mapplethorpe sitter. The billowing shirts had shades of Mapplethorpe’s famous muse Patti Smith on her Horses album cover. Robert Sherman, a model whose alopecia made his skin approximate marble in his many portraits shot by Mapplethorpe, also attended the show. Simons had to clear third-party rights with all the sitters before reproducing their images. It began a dialogue that resulted in an immersion on Simons’s part in Mapplethorpe’s work.

That being said, the artist sat for himself a lot. Mapplethorpe was a fascinating character, and the art is inextricable from the man. “If you think about the work, it is so much about him,” said Simons, and, indeed, it was so much about the clothes he wore, too. On a voyage of sexual self-discovery, many of Mapplethorpe’s first pictures were Polaroid self-portraits, trussed up in leather gear, testing the limits of pleasure and pain. Later, he documented his own sexual fetishes; the leather scene and BDSM predominantly. Clothing was a vital component: At one point, Mapplethorpe began stretching his own (worn) underwear across wooden frames to form unconventional sculptures; later, he clad himself in black leather.

Simons knows all of that. Hence the fact his homage to Mapplethorpe felt so thoroughly rounded, so passionate and truthful. The subtlety of Simons’s multiple references gave the show depth—his palette of black; white; the bruised-flesh shades of crimson, pink, and purple; and the burgundy of coagulated blood; the leather dungarees glinting with metallic buckles. Simons spent two afternoons pawing through the Mapplethorpe archives of contact sheets. He struggled with the English terminology to describe those: He called them “maps,” which is a far more interesting and evocative notion when applied to Simons’s search, to find new territory for Mapplethorpe, to make him feel relevant and exciting to a new generation. That’s what he saw his role as.

I’m a Mapplethorpe fan too. I couldn’t help but ally this show to Mapplethorpe’s fascination with frames, with giving his imagery a three-dimensional element, a sculptural quality by framing and matting in velvets and exotic woods, attaching imagery to objects. Making his photogr aphs more than they may first appear. Simons framed Mapplethorpe’s images with cloth, but then further framed them on the body: an image printed on a tabard, say, surmounted by the curtains of jacket lapels, or revealed on a T-shirt under a loosely draped sweater. Simons gravitated towards Mapplethorpe’s sexualized images of flowers, his idealized portraits of famous subjects like Debbie Harry, caught in coronas of light, and of artists whom Simons also shares an admiration for, like Alice Neel, captured a week or so before her death in an extraordinary 1984 portrait. Sex was in there, too; Simons was insistent on that. A down-stuffed jacket memorably turned to reveal an image of an erect phallus.

He also used the phrase “curation” to describe this show: “I wanted to approach it like a museum show, or a gallery show. Which has been done very often when it comes to Mapplethorpe’s work. Cindy Sherman did it, David Hockney did it. But always in a gallery.” Simons frowned. “I am a fashion designer. I thought the biggest challenge would be to do it in my own environment.”

The curatorial aspect made for a fascinating notion, especially in a time when so many designers appropriate and reference without credit—and when so many people throw around the verb “curate.” It’s indicative of Simons’s nature—respectful, quiet, intellectually hefty—that he saw this collection not as his creations with Mapplethorpe’s imagery tacked on, but as a collaboration akin to a gallery show, where his role was, at least in part, to bes t showcase the works he was given. But it was also to use those works to tell a new, exciting, and provocative story. To show us something new from the well known, and much seen, archives of Mapplethorpe. Which he undoubtedly did. WWD

For his return to Pitti Uomo, Raf Simons transformed Florence’s Stazione Leopolda into a Nineties- inspired warehouse rave with colored spotlights and electronic music. Distressed old mannequins were installed to showcase a range of men’s pieces from the past collections of the label, which celebrates its 20th anniversary this year.

The music from the “King Arthur” opera suddenly introduced the runway show, which paid homage to Robert Mapplethorpe’s work.

“I was contacted by the foundation, usually it’s me contacting the artists,” Simons said right after the show. “They wanted to see if these could be transported to another field or medium.”

The designer had access to the photographer’s complete archive and selected images from different periods of his career — including portraits of Patti Smith, self portraits, still lives — which he translated into prints on oversize cotton shirts, tops and apron skirts layered over slim pants.

Everything exuded a New York underground mood, which continued with exaggerated, distressed knitted sweaters imbued with a certain sensual feel. Pictures of antique statues were juxtaposed with explicit sexual images that served to enhance the provocative attitude of a collection that, while being celebratory, also reflected Simons’ ultracool aesthetic.

With all the rumors on Simons’ possible move to New York to take the reins at Calvin Klein, this collection might be seen as a first step toward the Empire State. Financial Times

Two months ago, Raf Simons was contacted by the Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation. They wondered if he would be interested in using Mapplethorpe’s work in a collection. “They approached me,” he said backstage after his show as a guest of Pitti Uomo in Florence. “That was an instant yes from me. I am a huge fan. I think its very relevant work, very beautiful, emotional, liberating work.” Their response: “Can you start tomorrow?” And so this was the result, a moment of relative stillness and contemplation before the next stage in the career of Raf Simons. It is widely presumed that in a month’s time, he will be announced as the new creative director of Calvin Klein. It’s eight months since he quit the role of artistic director of Christian Dior, and his non-compete clause with LVMH reportedly expires end of July.Simons said the Foundation were interested in Mapplethorpe’s work being seen in a new context. This year there has already been an HBO documentary Mapplethorpe: Look at the Pictures, as well as a two part retrospective still on view at LACMA and The Getty in Los Angeles until 31 July.Simons visited the Mapplethorpe Foundation twice in New York, and looked at every single image in their collection. Each look contained at least one Mapplethorpe work. “I wanted to approach it like when you do an exhibition at a museum or a gallery, but of course the medium is so different. Which was a big challenge, because otherwise you have T-shirt with prints which is what most people do but which I don’t find very respectful.” The images were placed in their entirety on garments, most often as panels on shirts, which were oversized and usually crisp white. “I didn’t want to re-crop the photographs, I didn’t want to cut them,” he said. That meant no images split down the middle by shirt buttons, no all-over prints cut to make space for those annoying things like the neck. The word “curator” has become popular in fashion recently, used to describe designers such as JW Anderson who take a scattergun approach to creating their collections. Here, Simons was acting as curator in a truer sense. “I wanted to take a curatorial approach,” he said. “The only parameter I set myself was I wanted to cover everything he did in terms of category, so not only flowers, sex or famous people.” I saw the Mapplethorpe shows in LA a fortnight ago, and found them deeply affecting if familiar: most of the images selected were well known. Much chosen by Simons was also famous: calla lilies; a self-portrait of Mapplethorpe leering at the camera, or a work with the deadpan title “Man in Polyester Suit”. It is a close-up of Mapplethorpe’s lover Milton Moore in a suit, his penis hanging out of the fly. Simons printed it on the back of a white shirt.Most captivating were the images less often seen. “That was one of the things I was interested in, to try and also find work that is less familiar,” he said. “I think it’s interesting to make the audience understand how much work he made. The controversial images were just a few photographs, the percentage so small compared to everything that he did.” And so Simons created tension from showing both garments that would shock — like an erect penis on a striped lower half panel of a T-shirt — in the same show as a shirt with an unfamiliar image of an older woman’s ghostly face. I found it haunting. Later, a Google search revealed it was of the late artist Alice Neel. “I was very much in love with the image,” said Simons. “Some I knew, some I didn’t know, for example, [portraits of] Alice Neel, Robert Rauschenberg and Trisha Brown, Willem de Kooning.” Wait, was that the portrait of the older man wearing dungarees? Simons said it was. This was not a pulse quickener of a collection, nor was it meant to be. The look was cool in every sense, the white shirts an austere background for images that aimed for the elegiacal. Leather caps and pants brought the style of Mapplethorpe himself to the present day. If Mapplethorpe were alive now, he would be about to celebrate his 70th birthday. Fashion ideas from Simons were respectful to the work. Sometimes, accompanying garments were simple, like a black nylon city coat. Often they were a framing device, like oversized sweaters with a buttoned boatneck, which flopped open to reveal the print on a garment underneath: a young man staring straight at the camera, his hand raised in a vogueing pose; the bare breast of a woman pulling a top over her head. Much of the collection’s underlying power came afterwards. Images of many of the garments would not pass the censors of Instagram, an app that can’t even cope with the female nipple. On the reverse of a red sleeveless gilet was a close-up of a large erect penis hanging out of a trouser fly. It walks past you on the catwalk and you titter. A hard-on! Then you think about what it would take to wear such a garment in real life, the bravery of the act and the defiance. As has been his wont for the past few seasons, Simons had no seating. A catwalk was demarcated by tape on the floor, the audience left to guess the best standing vantage point. He took over a vast exhibition hall, and dotted around it mannequins wearing pieces from over twenty years of the Simons archive. I chose a spot near photographers, which meant good lighting and a clear unblocked view. Next to me was a mannequin sat on a storage trunk. It was wearing a striped knit with an image of Richie Edwards of the Manic Street Preachers, who had just cut open his arm. It seemed like good company. What happens next for Raf Simons? Unless the entire industry has been duped, it’s pretty certain he’s heading for Klein. What did it mean for him to show a retrospective of his work in such a comprehensive manner? Maybe it was just an example of the different kind of show possible in slower-paced, celebratory Florence. Or maybe it was the closing of one chapter before the beginning of another. Simons is a very personal designer, just as Mapplethorpe was a photographer whose work mirrored his life. Simons is now 48, six years older than Mapplethorpe when he died of Aids-related illness in 1989. It is the savouring of life and all that can be created within it. Personal Review

Simons partnered with the Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation for this collection. The line was full of boxy, cropped, oversized clothing. Simons used images from Mapplethorpe’s career and printed them onto the clothing. I think he did an excellent job portraying Mapplethorpe’s work onto his collection. Fashion is a form of art, and I love that Simons was able to transform Mapplethorpe’s photography art into a different medium of . RICK OWENS Vogue.com

The ever-implacable fashion industry is churning with change, which some hypothesize as its savior, and others as its demise. In fact, given how that chimes with the black/white, right/wrong politics dominating contemporary culture, maybe it’s symptomatic of the times in which we live. And perhaps that is why Rick Owens is rejecting it. He is a contrarian. “I don't have to do anything I don't want to,” Owens once told me, face inscrutable. “I could just burn the whole fucking place down."

Owens was talking, specifically, about his business operation, but it’s not difficult to imagine him razing fashion as a whole. That’s sometimes what it feels like watching Rick Owens’s shows, which are always remarkable. More and more, he distances himself from the rest of the industry by the rare quality that his clothes look entirely, frequently uncompromisingly new. New can mean alien, so barely do they adhere to the tenets of garment history. “They do look like something that isn’t finished,” Owens scoffed, sardonically, in his West Coast drawl, of his Spring 2017 collection. They did. But is that such a bad thing? A work in progress is better than no work at all.

That illuminated Owens’s offering, which bore some relation to fabric freely thrown around a mannequin, randomly captured, and suspended in motion. Owens cited the fine of Madame Grès to describe swags of fabric hurling their way around the body. It was a rare direct fashion reference, although look hard, and you can see echoes of Grès, Charles James, and Madeleine Vionnet in Owens’s oeuvre. I’m talking specifically about his menswear there. See what I mean about new?

Owens is the only one who would assert his clothes look incomplete. For the rest of us, the unity of Owens’ vision is one of its most arresting qualities - the entirety of the Owenscorp universe. Owens himself has compared its all-encompassing nature to the lifestyle philosophy espoused Ralph Lauren. But for Spring, Owens was preoccupied by his own mistakes - the wrong right, or the right wrong, as he put it. What that lead to were garments that thrashed their way around the body, wide-cut trousers pooling, sleeves dripping off wrists, until a silhouette emerged. It was firm—gazar and duchesse satin don’t make for light wearing—high-waisted and wide-legged, sometimes emphasized by swags and globules of fabric, like eviscerated entrails. It felt different. Exciting. Owens grounded that Grès reference by comparing the twisted and pleated fabrics to muscle and tendon, like a medical diagram sketched in jersey by the great couturière. This was, simply, a redesigning not of clothes, but of the human body. That’s par for the course for Owens.

Owens related the change in fashion not to cataclysmic, seismic quakes, but to evolution: slow, deliberate, ultimately for the better, and much much deeper. It’s the way you envisage his clothing transforming, season after season, perpetuating the species of Owens rather than just painting its facade every six months. The silhouette shifts, and our perceptions change. What Owens does is most persuasive, most extraordinary, in menswear. Maybe that’s because what Owens is doing is audacious, at the very best of times. Today, it often feels like the worst of times, when the landscape of contemporary masculine attire is dominated by banality. It’s simple Darwinism. Survival of the fittest. Owens—and cockroaches—will be around long after fashion’s perhaps inevitable apocalypse. It’s difficult to think of any designer who will revel in the creative possibilities of that to a greater extent. WWD

Neil Young singing his poignant and pointed “After the Goldrush” accompanied a Rick Owens collection that had been smoothed of the usual hard edges — yet still had a strong message.

“This season I got very soft,” the designer mused backstage as models traipsed around, hoisting their elephantine pant legs to reveal socklike sneakers in collaboration with Adidas. It was a new take on the Runner, its angular heels smoothed into a sleek wedge.

Owens carried over his big pants from last fall, also continuing with bloblike drapes and whorled volumes. Indeed, his opening looks in gauzy gray fabrics approximated the gargantuan folds of blubber of this season’s mascot — a walrus.

Yet there was something regal about the cone-shaped silhouettes and the elaborate, sashlike folds worked into T-shirts and tops. “The pageantry of all that fabric,” said Owens, whose mind went to a Hyacinthe Rigaud portrait of Louis XIV, resplendent in a huge fleur de lys cape.

As the show progressed, Owens capped his pyramid-shaped pants with tiny, taut bomber jackets and leather blousons that stopped at the ribcage. The effect is of “lifting the torso, and it looks as if it’s lifting the spirit,” he said, calling the look “more transcendent.”

One could also say ecclesiastical, especially when Owens added shiny embroideries with radiant lines, like depictions of the Sacred Heart, to loose black robes and sculpted tuxedo jackets. It’s a descriptor coming up more frequently as the Paris season picks up steam. Owens’ priestly take on black-tie was certainly divine. Business of Fashion Rick Owens’ invitation featured a lenticular image of a scrawny Wild Boy turning into a walrus. As mesmerizing as it was weird. “Walruses look like something unfinished, ugly but sleek,” said Owens before the show. “That’s my aesthetic too.” But there was more to this. A boy becomes a walrus: age after beauty, pearls before swine. The show was, Owens said, about change. Embrace it or resist it? “The best advice my dad ever gave me was hope for the best and plan for the worst,” he said. That pragmatic counsel had helped him “navigate life and conflict in the most graceful way." Which was evident in today’s presentation. Last season’s inspiration was the mastodon, emblem of species extinguished, with silhouettes echoing the solidity of the great beast’s legs. Same thing today, except the silhouettes soared skywards, the bulk below the waist, amplified by huge pannier-like swatches of fabric, captured by tiny jackets, some of them dense with a bugle-beaded starburst. From the earth to the stars, like walking pyramids. “It’s an illustration of lifting up the spirit,” said Owens. “Being expansive versus being defensive, being open-hearted, open to compromise, to listening.” The way he visualised this abstraction was in a softness that was new for him. Sheer tops will always say vulnerability, even more on a man. The volume of fabric compounded the impression, with great bandoliers of cloth draped across the body and trousers puddling on the floor. Rapid mobility in such ensembles would be extremely difficult. That too underscored vulnerability. And the fact that a capelet — superhero staple — was shown in also suggested destabilised conventional masculinity. Exactly the kind that would be inclined to an open-hearted attitude to life. Owens felt the best example of the “soft man” he had in mind was symbolised by his soundtrack, for the first time no challenging re-interpretation of a piece of hardcore techno, instead, a handful of versions of Neil Young’s After the Goldrush. “Look at Mother Nature on the run in the 1070s”, sang Young. “It’s like it was written for this show,” Owens rhapsodised. He’s our least likely environmentalist, but our most winning campaigner for change. Personal Review

I appreciate the artistic value to Rick Owens. The show is very eccentric and memorable, and Owens was able to incorporate the looks from the show into a ready to wear collection. Draping is difficult, but Owens mastered the technique. I’m not a huge fan of the colors, or draping clothes on men, but it did look put together, and I will definitely remember it. SACAI Vogue.com This was Chitose Abe’s first ever Sacai men’s runway show. That’s patently untrue in the wider scheme of things, but true in that it’s the first Abe has attended in person, to acknowledge the applause at the end. At a time when other designers are bowing out of doing menswear shows, it was interesting to see such a vehement commitment, both in terms of the designer’s presence on the runway and in her obvious involvement in the design studio. Abe’s clothes are by no means simple—they’re worked, complicated, and thought out. Often, when watching the show, it can take a minute or two to figure out exactly how it all works—where the pockets sit, where the buttonholes are, if that’s a sweater, or a shirt, or kind of both? That’s the conundrum of Sacai’s trademark hybrid garments. You’d never figure the quiet, cerebral Abe to be a fan of a bit of the old ultra-violence, though. Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange was a point of reference for her Spring 2017 collection, with low-pulled bowler-style hats, Nadsat terms like “oddy-knocky” and “horrowshow” [sic] printed across T-shirts. One look—dead-white bomber and skinny pants above heavy bovver boots—eerily channeled Kubrickian scenes. Those undertones gave a different context to the utilitarian bent of this outing. And, as opposed to the complexity of the dystopian linguistic gymnastics that characterized Anthony Burgess’s original novel, these clothes were relatively simple. Abe rinsed out some of the extraneous design tricksiness inherent in her sartorial crossbreeds, so a jacket did single-duty as just that. The collection was still broad and the looks multilayered, but it was easier to imagine yanking everything apart into individual pieces. Hanging onto the Clockwork Orange references, it was interesting how Abe made the familiar feel alien, just as Burgess did with language. The references were standard military gear and the then–forward thinking sportswear of the ’90s, which now feels a little retro, crossbred with textiles pillaged from across the world—paisleys, American lumber checks, Afghan belt detailing, Aloha flowers, and the thick woven stripes of Central and South American gauchos. Abe’s droogs get about. But in the end, you ditched the theme: Get out of your Gulliver, put the book down, buy a jacket that’s just a jacket. Good clothes, done well. Nothing more complicated than that needed. WWD

There were piles of gravel and pileups of not-always-summery garments at Sacai’s spring show held in an orangerie at the Jardins du Luxembourg. The dust the models kicked up was echoed in the dry, talcum texture of the fabrics and shades ranging from greige to peony pink.

Chitose Abe eased up on her cross-pollination of garments, most splicing knit panels into crispy Windbreakers, or as the waistband on a shirt in lumberjack plaid. Mexican fabrics and other folkloric patterns fed the collection’s jumbled, global wanderer feel. Abe used the former for toggle coats and slim pants that ended in wads of fringe. The surfeit of technical outerwear, a big trend this European season, carried over into the tailoring, done in ripstop nylon with a windowpane check.

The designer also paraded eight looks from her women’s pre-spring collection, and these were strong, bearing more of her handwriting. Abe carved handsome, color-flecked into off-kilter, apronlike skirts and a pert cape that morphed into a hooded from behind. No dryness here. Business of Fashion

The layers upon layers upon layers in the Sacai show crystallised why the label is one of fashion’s favourite cults. The soundtrack, courtesy of Clockwork Orange, helped. There were other oblique references to that movie: the boiler suit the droogs wore, the words horrorshow and oddy-knocky (Nadsat for “good” and “alone”) printed on tops. But that was only the beginning of Chitose Abe’s rich tapestry.

One outfit featured a pineapple print (Hawaii), paisley from the UK and patterned belts from Afghanistan collaged into a parka, the most classic item from the Mod wardrobe in early 1960s Britain. It was the sort of densely hybrid, wittily curatorial piece that is a Sacai signature. Another parka mixed Mexican patterns with English tweed. There were MA-1’s and other military items dyed a dense fuchsia pink, aggression turned peace and love. Traditional straight-tip boots had basketball laces. And almost everything had rasta mesh tanks as a foundation. Chitose showed her women’s pre-collection alongside her Spring 2017 menswear. The vocabulary was more or less the same, but it looked more familiar, and more polished. A tweed jacket doubled over a high performance sports jacket was a typically chic Sacai hybrid, while the menswear had a rough, rave-y edge.

But in both cases, there was that particular Japanese appreciation of Western pop culture which is able to feed back to us all that's familiar in gloriously unpredictable ways. There were badges, blank because, said Chitose’s lieutenant Daisuke Gemma, “there’s something on your mind but we don’t talk about it.” Remember that Chitose is Rei Kawakubo’s protégé. And accept that she is another face of Japan’s enduring ability to challenge, provoke, bemuse — and amuse. Personal Review

This was another show that had womenswear mixed in with the menswear. The menswear was very feminine looking in color and design. The designer used a lot of stripes and heavy layering for her clothes for this collection. SALVATORE FERRAGAMO Vogue.com The Russian painter Nicolas de Staël ’s oeuvre was on more than one mood board this season; not surprising, because he was loaded with some of the most attractive qualities that a fashion designer in search of inspiration can hope for. He was handsome, talented, an emigré aristocrat, a slightly depressed charmer, stylish as hell, and with that aura of ineffable insouciance that only a well-heeled, decadent upbringing can lend. He was also a displaced, doomed soul who traveled a great deal in his life. That’s more than enough to make any creative type trip hard on inspiration. The design team at Ferragamo, taking over from previous creative director Massimiliano Giornetti, who recently left the company, infused Ferragamo’s Spring collection with an artsy spirit peppered with the energetic vibe of a sophisticated explorer. Travel is a ubiquitous inspiration this season, probably reflecting a very real desire to escape to a better world, which seems to be the only place that no one has yet been able to discover. But at least the Ferragamo guy looked very well equipped for the task; creative yet practical, with a youthful, adventurous spirit firmly rooted in tradition, he looked elegantly agile in sahara silk jackets and loose, paper-light parkas. Suits were soft and comfortable, with a fresh take on tailoring and with functional, almost workwear-inspired proportions. A touch of the decorative was found on blousons encrusted with abstract motifs, which this time were intended as an homage to the French artist Jean Arp; they were also translated in colorful pins on lapels and on printed foulards, loosely worn with nonchalant attitude. Huge canvas backpacks were carried to highlight the irrepressible urge to get going: Obviously, they were of the hyper-luxe variety customarily associated with the label’s stellar level of quality. The Ferragamo guy might be a restless adventurer, even a little mad as only an artist can be, but because at heart he’s a well-bred enfant gâté, he will always be fond of luxe, the more extravagant and expensive the better. Case in point: a blouson made of more than 100,000 small papery leather triangles, meticulously stitched and assembled to produce a colorful archival foliage print, which achieved a spectacular 3-D effect: Making it took more than 290 hours of work. WWD

How to reinvent the suit? It’s a question that’s been hanging over the spring season and Salvatore Ferragamo offered multiple propositions. There was everything from belted, short-sleeved leisure suits and blousons to variations on safari and shirt jackets — all in typical tailoring fabrics, some a tad fussy. In general, these alternatives to the two-button standard looked better over trimmer trousers than billowing, lustrous Eighties pants.

This was the first men’s collection since the exit of creative director Massimiliano Giornetti, and the design team decided on a camping theme peppered with primitive art motifs, mostly brooches and scarf prints in colorful Jean Arp blobs.

The collection had its moments and a slightly younger spirit, with scout-leader ensembles laden with giant backpacks, some dangling a tin cup. Utility pockets knocked the preciousness out of trim two- button suits in silk, a ubiquitous fabric this Milan season, also employed for handsome shirts — another plausible alternative to a jacket.

The models whizzed trough the stock exchange venue so quickly that some of the craftsmanship was lost on the audience. Backstage, a member of the design team pointed to a blouson in a foliage print assembled from 100,000 hand-cut leather triangles. Each takes 290 hours to make. That’s almost two weeks of camping. Business of Fashion

Can a collection be designed by committee? It's an open question. recently declared that the era of superstar designers was over. Yet, a product without an author remains, well, just a product: lifeless and anonymous. It was apparent at the Salvatore Ferragamo show yesterday. The brand has been doing without a creative director since Massimiliano Giornetti's departure earlier in the spring. His team remained in place. But the resulting collection was lost in a middle ground between the past and the future.

The remains of Giornetti's thoughtful precision informed the strong line up of tailored safari jackets and demure blousons accessorised with sneakers and sneakers/sandals. But the effort lacked a twist, even a faint one: the touch of personality Giorgetti managed so subtly to infuse. That said, the collection will easily translate from catwalk to store, with no adjustment necessary. It was ok, but just so. As for quirk and true desirability, Ferragamo needs a creative director soon. Personal Review

This collection was characterized by loose fitting clothing and earthy tones. While the line is not overly exciting, it is very wearable. I could see a lot of men wearing these clothes. Considering the creative director, Massimiliano Giornetti, had recently left, I would say that overall the collection was a success. SANDRO Vogue.com

“The looks are destined to be worn; we can’t show unwearable clothes,” declared Ilan Chétrite, who oversees Sandro’s menswear. With the season’s key pieces styled on mannequins for an informal presentation in the brand’s Marais showroom, he explained how the latest collection focused nautical influences through a vintage 1970s filter. This was easily discernible from the marine insignia fronting a lightweight sweater, in addition to fine-gauge striped and webby knits; short- sleeved pajama in breezy silk; and pants cut wider, shorter, and occasionally flared. A single print waved, in an oceanic sense, to the classic prints of Japanese artist Hokusai. Front pleats and generous hems gave novelty to jeans; the result might confuse some men while enticing others. But a leather blouson in a warm shade of cognac will attract anyone who wants the ready- made lived-in look without the initial effort.

Indeed, Chétrite singled out the development that went into achieving the rusty patina spreading across the season’s statement lug-soled shoes to show how Sandro pursues differentiation, not experimentation. A slim , well-tailored double-breasted jackets, and dressier jogging pants (embedded with a new graphic logo at the hip) were proof that the brand pursues crowd- pleasers, too. WWD

Ilan Chetrite channeled a nautical vibe with his spring collection for Sandro, with wide ankle- length pants and striped short-sleeved sweaters that had a whiff of the Forties — think Gene Kelly in “Anchors Aweigh.”

The trouser cut carried through into high-waisted jeans with wide hems that were trend-conscious enough to stand out from the high street, without requiring a Ph.D. in fashion.

“Our job at Sandro is to offer clothes that are wearable, not too experimental,” Chetrite explained. “With this collection, we wanted to show a more dressed-up guy. He’s more mature.”

The vintage vibe carried through into a Fifties-style, red silk zip-up jacket with front pockets, and a brown leather in a distressed patina that was matched on chunky brogues. For a more casual look, the label offered cropped track pants with a signature “S” embroidered over one hip. Fashionisto

French brand Sandro channeled 70s style in a relaxed fashion as menswear designer Ilan Chétrite presented the label’s spring-summer 2017 collection during Paris Fashion Week. Juxtaposing a refined ease with a nautical motif, the range benefited from a focus on individual pieces, which started with flared pleated trousers. The staple was paired with cropped jackets, boxy short-sleeve shirts, roomy trench coats and summer tanks. While items like a brown leather jacket solidified the collection’s 70s nostalgia, stripes and a penchant for navy continued a welcomed maritime theme. Somehow, the diverse references resulted in a perfect marriage. Personal Review

This is a very wearable collection. It’s pretty basic, but everyone needs to have some solid staple pieces. While this collection is very simple, there are small details on each piece that set this line apart. THOM BROWNE Vogue.com

The grayscale world conjured up each season by Thom Browne is bizarre, twisted, sometimes unintentionally hilarious, and sometimes entirely intentionally so. The last is far more entrancing that the first—when you realize Browne is laughing with you, rather than you at him (or, perhaps, vice versa). And so it was for Spring, when Browne decided life was a beach and unleashed one of the wittiest, most memorable, and certainly most bizarre runway stagings of his entire career. Considering they’ve previously involved gilded fauns, menageries of animals and hyperinflated Elmer Fudd lookalikes, and male flappers in Maxim’s, that’s a tall order.

Here was the scene: a post-apocalyptic beach of black sand, gray palm tree, and a lounging sunbather in a tight zippered wet suit, like a black-and-white movie still. John Williams’s ominous Jaws theme began to play, and a model in a black suit—drop-crotch pants, jacket with a dorsal fin attached, head hidden under a leather shark mask—perambulated out and circled the set. No word of a lie. Then a bunch of shark-attack-ready models waddled out in Fatty Arbuckle onesies, plodding to take their place about the tree. A quick zip and, like a cheap infomercial before and after, the corpulence literally peeled right off, to reveal spangled short suits, tailcoats, and overcoats in brilliant, poolside cocktail shades of orange sorbet, cassata, and piña colada, in fur or tweed or hibiscus flower laces with embroideries of surfboards, and islands, and sharks.

Speaking of which, the aforementioned great white was still circling ominously (read: hilariously). At some point, a few seagulls joined him—men in feather- crusted shorts suits and beaked Stephen Jones headpieces, flapping their wings like angels in a preschool nativity play. You couldn’t help but grin, the models then stripping off for a second time, revealing each ensemble to be a fused trompe l’oeil, like a snug wet suit, a reveal worthy of a winning RuPaul’s Drag Race main-stage lip sync, and just as camp. Underneath each wore a retro-style bathing suit in an eye-popping Lilly Pulitzer–style print. Oh, at some point a couple of macaws joined in. Who knows when, or why. The damn shark was still circling.

The models marched off, grabbed a surfboard matching their print, and pitched their stake in the sand. Behind them, the of discarded gray fat-suits looked like a mountain of bird guano. The Beach Boys crooned.

As that extensive synopsis suggests, it made for delirious theater. It meant nothing, bar reappropriating picture-postcard scenes of Americana-at-sea, California Dreamin’ images of tanned mid-century surfer dudes dressed in aloha shirts and vacation shorts suits, and mutating them into something utterly surreal.

Yet each element of Browne’s big-top show was perfectly gauged, ridiculously well-realized. It could have gone horribly wrong, but, somehow, it entertained without ever dragging. Kudos to Sharky and the flock of seagulls for sterling fancy footwork with restricted views. And kudos to Browne, because when all the layers were peeled off these were wonderfully inventive, technically stunning clothes that can easily be chopped apart and infiltrated into garments that will make retail sense. Then again, if you’re a fan of the one-stop shop and zero outfit deliberations offered by a wardrobe fused into a , you’ve found your go- to collection.

The end of the Paris menswear shows is a time for bleary eyes and stony faces. But here the audience smiled. They laughed. And they even put down their smartphones and applauded, with all the glee of little kids. They also held their breath in a moment’s silence for the esteemed New York Times style photographer Bill Cunningham, whose death was announced yesterday. Browne himself requested the moment of silence. Watching the subsequent runway show unfold, a celebration of fashion’s power to transform, of unabashed exuberance in dress, and of superlative showmanship, you couldn’t help but feel Cunningham would have adored Browne’s audacity and absolute commitment to his crafts. That’s plural, please note: the craft of making clothes, and the craft of spectacle. Browne is an American master of both. WWD Thom Browne opened his show on a benevolent note. “Good evening everyone,” the designer’s voice resounded from backstage. “This is Thom Browne. Please take a moment of silence for the incomparable Bill Cunningham,” he asked in honor of the late New York Times photographer who died Saturday. Shortly after, the opening notes of “Jaws” marked the beginning of a well-rehearsed performance involving a shark (cue a model circling imaginary waters in a shark mask and an extra-extra-drop crotch suit with the predator’s fin attached to the back); a desert island, rendered in the brand’s signature grey hues (or perhaps it was just a volcanic island), and a whole bunch of models. They would change three times. The sartorial collection essentially riffed off a surfer’s wet suit, and if one thought the new Balenciaga power suits were boxy, think again. Browne’s made even the skinniest models look like professional sumo wrestlers. Surprisingly, they all turned out to be onesies. Later, a second layer revealed a flurry of formal men’s ensembles. Cue a lemon yellow Mackintosh with bold hibiscus embroideries; a white linen , also embroidered, and jacquard shorts, all adding up to one look. Elsewhere, the came in the shape of silk duchesse tailcoats; cashmere, seersucker or mink jackets; tweed and raffia overcoats, and rubber cardigans to name just a few of Browne’s witty combinations. With one pull of the zip, models took those off, too, to give full view of a series of colorful intarsia- knit , before they hit the waves with their custom-made Thom Browne surfboards. “Yes, they will be for sale,” the designer confirmed backstage, with the shark still looming in the shallow waters. Business of Fashion

In his previous incarnation, Thom Browne tried to make it as an actor in California. “It’s the most seductive place to do a lot of nothing,” he said after the West Coast fantasia he staged tonight. Meaning, the acting didn’t happen. But his career in fashion did.

“It’s the place where I became a designer,” he added. And that great big happy memory saturated his show. But this is Thom Browne we’re talking about, so the scenario was set with a shadow: a black palm tree set in a glittering black sandpit (Brian Wilson famously spent all his time in one as his mind disintegrated and the Californian dream soured).

The ominous theme from Jaws pulsed through the room as a suited dude in a shark’s head prowled the catwalk, looking for victims. “Not everyone in this room was alive when Jaws was released,” Browne pointed out. But he remembered. And that immediately established a personal tone for a presentation whose tightly choreographed scale would normally seem to be the very antithesis of intimate.

“I did a surfing show about eight years ago,” Browne mused. “This is how I’ve evolved.”i.e. massive technical accomplishment, peaking in the trompe l’oeil onesies that looked like complicated multi-faceted outfits but were actually a single unit. The grass-green mink jacket with the white twill shorts? One piece. The shark-embroidered tail coat with seersucker pants? Same thing. “I wanted to replicate a ,” said the designer.

The sheer sci-fi convenience of such a concept was almost laughable (you could imagine Woody Allen in Sleeper loving the look), but Browne had the models stripping onstage to show its efficacy. Aside from the onesies, there were also outfits that were held together by a single massive zip running down the spine, each individual piece immaculately worked — dyed, painted, embroidered, intarsia-ed — in Browne’s signature style. It was gobsmacking.

Going ga-ga for subtext, you might say that the shark and the circling seagulls (boys in feathered shorts suits) said something about the state of the world, greed, avarice and all that. That black palm tree and sand also. Dimming of an idealistic light? No way. “Black showed up the colours so much better,” Browne said. That’s the way he shoots down subtext. It was, after all, uplifting colour and fun and youth he wanted to emphasise. But all of that is a political statement in a world that is being ruined by old men. And even Browne had to concede, “The work is very serious.” Personal Review

This was a very bizarre and eccentric show; I absolutely loved it. Thom Browne reminds us that fashion should be fun. I loved the irony of the collection, too. The designer took the term swimsuits literally, and created colorful, waterproof suits, while the models wore swim caps, , and carried surfboards. TOD’S Vogue.com It always seems a shame that Tod’s illustrates its menswear collections via straight-up lookbook shots rather than reflecting the vignettes they pose their models into for the attention of the press. Lounging in room setups in the lush gardens of Tod’s adoptive Villa Necchi Campiglio, peppered with pricey bits of mid-century Italian furniture, those tableaux vivants are a reflection of the idealized life of the ideal Tod’s man. And while Andrea Incontri is clever not to pitch his Tod’s menswear collection down a runway, removing these clothes from that context—the context of everyday life, albeit a well-heeled one—does them a bit of a disservice. This season, alongside the lounging mod bods dressed in Tod’s signature treated leathers and soft-sole slip-ons, there was a gnarled wooden table, enshrined with some ceremony. That is Diego and Andrea Della Valle’s grandfather’s table, where the family leather goods tradition began—although it was only in the 1920s, with his son Dorino Della Valle, that it was turned into a bone fide business. Family ties always run deep in Italian fashion, and this was Tod’s reveling in theirs. Elsewhere, the rest of the collection stuck close to the Tod’s genealogy, to the family of product that customers know, love, and will presumably buy again. The link was craft: Thinking of that table, Incontri and the Tod’s team explored varied processes, namely “Pash,” a brushing-on of pigment that results in a velvet effect, applied to everything from Tod’s driving shoes and bags through to the Spring season’s ubiquitous field jacket. A series of footwear featured roughly brushed-on color over white, drawing inspiration from the technique of Mark Rothko paintings. That was the only arty touch in a collection that was otherwise resolutely down-to-earth: straightforward tailoring, leather jackets, those Gommino moccasins with knobbled soles. You wouldn’t realize quite how luxurious they were unless you were wearing them. That feels relevant in a crowded luxury market today, and it's evidently something consumers react to favorably as well. The Wild Swans

Tod’s Spring/Summer 2017 presentation held at the Tod’s family villa in the heart of Milano was a pure treat to the eye; models casually sitting on sofas next to maxi screens depicting beautiful pictures of Italy mixing with fashion photographs seriously made us all go “WOW”

The brand, which is mainly known for its shoe collection, also presented a RTW selection, with a range of beautifully tailored jackets and blazers matching perfectly the style of the iconic Tod’s driving shoes, leather waxed jackets and summery trench coats also made an appearance, which showed how classic and timeless can win over fashion statement pieces.

The focus, though, was always on the shoe collection, with different styles presented at the venue. We managed to see the more classic range featuring the classic driving shoes, penny loafers, but also the sportier and fashion-forward sneakers collection which all had an incredible effect on the shoes. This was a true Italian dream. Personal Review

This was another masculine collection characterized by earthy tones. The line was very relaxed looking. It was a very wearable collection, and I could see a lot of men wearing these clothes. TOPMAN Vogue.com How to explain traditional British seaside culture? Maybe imagine New York’s Fire Island entirely populated by flashy and occasionally filthy pleasure-seeking young Brits with no consideration for UV protection, but with a total commitment to sex, drugs, and hedonism. This morning, Topman’s Gordon Richardson—who was raised on the decidedly un- sybaritic Isle of Wight—directed a hard-partying compilation of whimsically remixed youth tribe uniforms. Over the decades, teddy boys, mods, rockers, casuals, soul boys, and then, finally, ravers (before they discovered Ibiza) have all washed up on the rugged Rivieras of Britain. Here, Richardson paid tribute to a soundtrack of penny arcade hubbub and The Streets’s “Weak Become Heroes.” There was slim-leg, long hem suiting in tutti-frutti pastels, Brit-motif Hawaiian shirting (hard-eyed seagulls and industrial ice cream cones instead of hibiscus blooms), tracksuit–souvenir jacket–Western shirt hybrids, and bold top-to-bottom terry-cloth short combos. Sweats celebrating some of the key weekender destinations—Torquay! Margate! Blackpool!—were cropped high, along with down jackets and fitted post-casual windbreakers. The sunburn makeup was a particularly good touch. Said Richardson: “I wanted it to look like they’d been out all night and slept on the beach.” Although the references were perhaps a bit too Brit- specific to resonate widely beyond these shores—which might become even more culturally insulated come June 23—this collection was a highly enjoyable pleasure-beach promenade for the initiated. Business of Fashion At the same time as the Queen’s 90th birthday celebration was beginning with maximum pomp and circumstance in St Paul’s Cathedral yesterday, Topman was celebrating a British institution of a different stripe: the seaside town. Penny arcades, funfairs and piers, holidays from hell, dirty weekends, drunken tattoos, mods, rockers and teddy boys heading to the coast for a riotous time… they were all mashed up in a cheap and cheerful collection that teetered along the knife edge of vulgarity that photographer Martin Parr captures so well in his pictures of the Great British Seaside. The models were even given a bit of colour to look like they’d passed out drunk in the sun. And the styling did a great job of capturing their gawkiness, right down to the VPL. For creative director Gordon Richardson, it was a trip down memory lane, kick-started by the popular referendum the UK will soon be taking to decide whether it remains tied to Europe or not. “It’s made me reflect on what I love about the UK,” said Richardson. But what came out in the collection was a peculiar British domesticization of Americana. As Mr Richardson pithily observed, “Seagulls are our eagles.” WWD Topman Design took its muse on a jaunt through Britain’s gritty seaside towns with a retro-tinged lineup. As in past seasons, the tongue-in-cheek collection drew heavily on elements from British culture — and the nation’s subcultures. Take a salmon-pink sweater appliquéd with an ice-cream-cone motif that spelled out “Margate” — an English seaside resort — paired with salmon-pink shorts. Or a Teddy Boy-style pale gray and cropped pants combo, worn with a black mesh tank top. There was also a Mod influence, seen in sharp silhouettes such as a boxy jacket and slim pantsuit in black-and-white houndstooth. While this outing didn’t stint on pattern, color or embellishment — with the extravagant animal motifs having an air of Alessandro Michele’s Gucci — its crisp shapes lent a grounding influence to the lineup. Flamboyant they may be, but these clothes had a fun, real-world appeal that’s been missing from some of the label’s past collections. Personal Review I loved the nostalgic, nautical feel of the collection and thought that the line looked sleek and put together. While the clothes were still fun and flamboyant, they still looked wearable. It was the perfect blend, in my opinion. TRUSSARDI Vogue.com The heaven and the hell. This Trussardi presentation was held on the terrace of the Pinacoteca di Brera and soundtracked to live and truly exquisite ivory-tinkling (Mozart, don’t you know) by a member of Milan’s conservatoire. So, heaven. The clothes, mostly, were 100 percent super-desirable boho iterations of softened Italianate artistic-aristo (but a bit bourgeois, too) menswear tropes. So, more heaven. The presentation, however, although passionately executed and sincerely curated by Gaia Trussardi— absolutely the chicest artistic director at Milan’s menswear Fashion Week—was of a murkier flavor. The nut graf of it was this: Between a series of mirrored walls on either side of the balconies a series of actors played out various archetype roles. The first fellow wore a beautiful raspberry deconstructed woven suit with a track pant above a vibrantly printed silk shirt and bellowed. The second stared at himself self-involvedly in a mirror while moaning about something. The third wore python jeggings and a long suede coat with a purple neckerchief and paced up and down, cackling. At this point Trussardi wafted over and explained: “It’s about the theme of identity, madness, split personality, narcissism. But not the theme of craziness. All of us. I wanted to create this performance of different stereotypes.” Patiently she educated this yahoo that she had been inspired by Luigi Pirandello’s examination of the mask, subjectivity and objectivity: It was about who we are and how we present ourselves. Frankly that was way over this head, which simply enjoyed the clothes while trying not to interact with the interactive performance. A preacher railed against capitalism in a coated linen -manteau. A boxer fought with himself, meaningfully, in a silk short suit printed with a masked face. A woman who was conflicted about her gender negotiated with a chair and the mirrors in a green linen pinstripe double- breasted suit. A narcissistic hip-hop artist—so like, totally unreal—yelled into a mirror about how fabulous he was in a blue and red Henley striped suit imprinted with that face. The next fellow was in a terrible state, curled up like a fetus and kissing the mirror, but his look was good in woven suiting with silver buttons and neoprene detailing and double-monk-strapped crocodile shoes. And so it went on. Harking back to that preacher though, it was tempting to throw Trussardi a curveball: Isn’t there irony in presenting an anticapitalist in a several-thousand-euro ensemble. “Ah,” she replied, “but it’s all about contradiction.” Brava to Trussardi for being such an accomplished author of her story. Less tortuously, some of the clothes were objectively worthy of being the subject of your attention. WWD

Trussardi once again held its presentation at the art gallery Pinacoteca di Brera and tapped a group of actors, complete with their stereotypes and quirks, to symbolize the modern man. They performed in front of a series of mirrors in roles that varied from the painter or the hippie to a drunkard and the motivator.

“I was thinking of artists Ligabue and Vincent van Gogh, and the bold strokes they used to paint the clothes of the male figures in their paintings,” said creative director Gaia Trussardi. “I was looking for fabrics that would convey the idea of movement.” Case in point: a pinstripe suit where the irregular lines “break up the texture.”

The idea of role-playing also translated into a print that showed an antique chalk mask with a bold red brush stroke over it. Contradiction is further exemplified by formal jackets and vests juxtaposed with jogging pants and materials such as Neoprene and raw linen that contrasted with denim and suede. Trussardi also reworked python leather pants with a touch of Bohemian dandyism.

The installation worked as a backdrop for a collection that was in sync with Trussardi’s “pop ‘n’ roll” inclinations. Fashionisto

Gaia Trussardi explored madness for spring-summer 2017. Capturing the modern spirit of chaos and split personalities, the collection captured the multifaceted man of Trussardi. Creating the leisure suit, Trussardi dropped the lapel and adopted the elasticated waist of joggers for a relaxed look. Another easy option for suiting presented itself in the form of a printed pajama inspired number. Continuing the season’s relaxed quality, herringbone was applied to a chic bomber jacket that doubled as a blazer hybrid. Graphic sweaters, reptile patterned pants and long coats also contributed to Trussardi’s arresting spring collection. Personal Review

I love the colors Trussardi used in this collection. The different patterns are exciting and give the collection a youthful appeal. This line is very relaxed with a bohemian, chic feel to it. VALENTINO Vogue.com

With immigration top of the political agenda in Europe, Christophe Lemaire and Sarah-Linh Tran made a case for multiculturalism with their men’s collection for Lemaire, shown on the eve of Britain’s referendum on European Union membership.

They sprinkled the lineup with djellabas — in crisp cotton poplin or slightly weightier denim — worn over tailored wool pants that gave them a dressy edge. The melting-pot ethos was underlined by eclectic references ranging from Japanese-flavored black slippers to Fifties-style ducktail hairdos.

Earth tones and light layers — including billowing nylon parkas — gave the collection a travel- friendly feel, as did reporter’s jackets with voluminous pockets, including a sleeveless version layered over a formal jacket.

Lemaire said he cribbed the look from the older Arab men who live in the Belleville neighborhood of Paris, famously — and absurdly — described by Fox News as a Muslim-only “no-go” zone.

“That’s also what Paris, and Europe in general, is about. It’s the idea of cosmopolitanism and different influences,” Lemaire said backstage. “It’s terrible to see this hysteria, this kind of stupidity in the debates. It’s important to stay true to open-minded values and morals.”

Poignantly, the show was held across the road from La Belle Equipe, one of the bars targeted in the November terrorist attacks that killed 130 people. It proved that in fashion, at least, all cultures can happily coexist. WWD

Occasionally, fashion shows start late because the designer is still working on the collection. There are some persnickety types out there who would happily keep tinkering until it’s markdown time.

Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaolo Piccioli decided they would throw in the whenever they felt each item in their spring collection was finished just enough to reveal the beauty of the craftsmanship at the heart of a couture house like Valentino. They explained that they had borrowed the concept from the “Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible” exhibition at the Met Breuer in New York, which showcased some 500 years of paintings still in progress.

The highfalutin’ explanation had one searching for examples beyond the brogues with exposed staples and undyed edges they plucked off a table backstage. But apart from a bit of sagging lining here and a few dangling threads there, here was a collection with that familiar Valentino polish.

The camouflage coats and military-influenced ensembles had a sense of deja vu, too, albeit with more irregular splotches and -hewn embroideries. What felt newer were the monochromatic ensembles, layers of featherweight coats and zippered shirt jackets tucked into tapered trousers. They came in Army green, a deep blue or black — the latter peppered with silver grommets — and were chic from start to finish. Business of Fashion You like your fashion deep? Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaolo Piccioli can take you there… and beyond. The roots of their new menswear collection can be found in Unfinished:Thoughts Left Visible an exhibition currently running at the Met Breuer in New York. The duo’s moodboards reproduced dozens of works from the show — Schiele, El Greco, Lucien Freud and Elizabeth Peyton, all of them in a state of perfectly unfinished suspended animation. It wasn’t like you could see actual co-relatives in the clothes (some amoebic Picasso shapes reproduced in camo-like applique, perhaps), it was more the open-ended stance that Chiuri and Piccioli took with their creative process, the idea that everything they left unfinished would be completed when the end wearer imposed his personality on it. Which is actually a lovely little paradigm for the relationship between designer and customer. “More intimate, more human,” said Piccioli. So the exhibition inspired a feast of dangling threads, raw selvedge, not entirely finished shoes and hippie canvas clothing personalised with patches and mysterious insignia. A fierce utilitarianism imposed itself on worn, fitted denim shirts and jeans, or salt of the earth cotton workwear or camo jackets that were brutally patched together. The workmanship was exceptional, paradoxical in the service of something so raw. (And also in the price of the unfinished product.) At the heart of the renaissance of Valentino’s menswear has been a dark seam of Americana. Alongside the camo and denim were varsity jackets and knitwear with motifs of snarling jaguars. Go Jaguars! There was also a passage of unstructured but polished black tailoring, more classically Italian, less interesting in this context. Where Valentino’s womenswear is the apogee of a particular kind of obsessive feminine perfection, the menswear thrives on boyish funk. How diverting to picture Miss and Master Valentino on a date. Personal Review

This collection was characterized by a military theme. I love that the designer incorporated current events into his show. This is another example of how fashion is more than just clothes. Fashion is a way to show people who you are, and show them how you feel. VERSACE Vogue.com

Donatella Versace shot a movie before she designed her latest collection. No, the blonde bombshell hasn’t finally taken to the silver screen—alongside Bruce Weber she spent four days in Chicago, photographing her Fall 2016 Versace campaign and shooting a 20-odd-minute film to go with it. A shortened version of said film played at the start of her Spring 2017 show—another example of fashion scrambling perceptions of seasons right now. And, oddly, the experience of shooting the Fall campaign inspired Versace’s Spring menswear show. “The four most inspirational days,” was how Versace herself described it. “I brought almost all my design team to see—because they’d never be able to see this. We came back, and we designed the collection in five days!”

It’s probably difficult to hang around with Weber for that length of time and not produce a menswear show inspired, to some degree, by the vision of masculinity he has so decidedly fashioned over the past three decades. He’s contributed plenty to Versace’s own canon of male imagery, throbbing with sexuality, frequently undressed, rippling with muscle. Hunks in trunks. However, as opposed to Donatella’s frequent priapic predilections, it was the dancers of Weber’s film that inspired her—body-popping and gyrating in Versace workout gear, their mood translated to the runway in a focus on athletic shapes, featherweight fabrications, and plenty of movement. The billowing Versace silk shirts of yore were transposed to fluttering floor-length parkas—some slung over flesh-colored jerseys, some just slung over flesh. Old habits die hard. Look at those billowing coats long enough, rendered in the collection’s rich shades of blue, claret, jasper green, and Tyrian purple, and they began to resemble the airborne drapery in Renaissance paintings. Crossed with, maybe, a modern Olympian. They’re about to kick off in Rio after all. And Versace loves a Greek god—either on her clothes, or inside them.

When there was skin on show, it was below the waist as opposed to above. Meaning leg. Lots of leg, bared by shorts wide-cut or cycle pants cleaved to meaty thighs. They were part of a new line of Versace Active performance gear, alongside knit leggings that left little to the imagination. They were teamed with everything, from sweaters to tailored jackets to more of those blousy blousons.

It’s usually easy to pinpoint why a Versace show works—or, indeed, doesn’t. Sometimes it’s when Donatella goes troppo, layering on the ornament, the gilt, the razzmatazz with wanton disregard for traditional good taste. Those are usually great fun, and only fail to sate when they don’t go quite far enough. A memorable menswear outing starring studded a few seasons ago is a prime example of the former, even if you doubt any men would ever wear them.This show was different: It felt modern, relevant. It felt like it could actually have an impact on your wardrobe. Donatella used the word “Real” to describe the Weber film, and this felt real too. Not just because teaming activewear with ready-to-wear feels not like a modern suggestion of how to dress, but a modern way we do dress already, here offered in deluxe variations, teaming technical with silks, messenger-slung bags and lightweight sneakers and sandals. The lightness translated across everything—leathers were perforated, knits fine-gauge. A member of the design team told me that the coats were crafted using dressmaking techniques, rather than tailoring, to keep everything supple and pliant.

You know what feels modern? That. Not spiky metallic futurism or odd, post-modern mixes of eras and garments. But clothes that are soft to the touch and gentle on the body. Something sensuous, enjoyable to wear. Clothes that make you look good, but feel better. Versace coined the phrase “gentleman” when talking about this show—but it felt more like a gentle man.

It also felt decidedly Donatella—her best work is always personal, and this combined her twin loves of sports and fashion. Alongside a bit of sexiness. There was a more poignant personal touch too: Both the show and Weber’s film throbbed to a soundtrack of never-before-heard songs written and recorded as a gift to Donatella by the late, great Prince. A clutch of male and female models for evening emerged dressed in his hallmark , while Donatella took her final bow in trademark purple (empress, rather than emperor) as tribute. This collection, imbued with energy and the joy of movement, felt like another. WWD

Donatella Versace’s collection pulsated with fresh energy, from the Chicago hip-hop dancers who featured in Bruce Weber’s short film for the brand that debuted at the show to the fast-moving models who hustled across a vast triangular runway space to beats from original Prince tracks, recorded by the late artist as a gift to the designer. The designer said she loves change and that her aim is to push the brand forward. She’s certainly been true to her word, with a new chief executive officer, Jonathan Akeroyd, joining the team this month and a whole new — more ethereal — take on the Versace man. While there has always been an element of swagger and showmanship — often in the form of look- at-me prints and colors, gold buttons and Medusa heads — this collection was different. Although the men were still tough and confident they had a more athletic energy — and a fluidity of movement. Versace dressed them in roomy silhouettes, including long, billowing parkas done in parachute nylon; a black trench with sexy sheer sleeves; belted topcoats as languid as silk , and silk blouson shirts. The designer, who took her bow dressed in a deep purple frothy — an homage to her late pal Prince — also played with layering and proportion. She paired long shirts or hoodies with leggings and cycle shorts while silk sweaters were tied loosely around waists and worn with jackets and tops. Structure came in the form of tailored leather jackets, while bombers were slashed at the back into abstract diamond shapes and dotted with small, signature Versace studs. After all, what’s a Versace collection without a bit of twinkle? Business of Fashion The perks of being Donatella Versace: Bruce Weber makes the movie that goes with your new show, Prince records the soundtrack. Five months before he died, Prince sent Donatella the music she used in her menswear presentation today, revisiting classics — in his new Kiss, it was Desperate Housewives, not Dynasty, you didn’t have to watch to have an attitude — and dropping something unreleased. Irresistible Bitch sounded like a salient tribute to Donatella’s renaissance. She wore purple in tribute. But if she has carved herself new turf with the ballsiness of her women’s collections, Donatella went in the opposite direction with her latest menswear. It’s not the right moment to exalt hyper- masculinity. The world’s in the toilet because of it. Better to acknowledge the vulnerability of men, their insecurity and their powerlessness in the face of a world that has no future unless it’s a woman’s world. And how that yielded a strong fashion statement will probably be one of the paradoxes of the season. The key item in the collection was a billowing nylon wind coat, floating around the body like a nomad’s robe. The colours were nomadic too: khaki, sand, the purple and navy of a desert sky at night. And the clothes were simple to match — t-shirts, knits knotted at the waist, jackets worn shirtless, hiking sandals with everything. It was a fluid, sensuous collection, an of-the-minute revamp of the libertine sensibility that defined Gianni’s Versace in its heyday. The curious stabs at collar-and-tie formality looked well out of place. So did the creamy leather jacket, even with its slashes and studs. No, this was a suedecollection, soft, textured, elasticated. The sheer scale of the presentation was very much in the vein of Versace’s current confident grandiosity, but that is more an accurate reflection of how Donatella feels about women. Her shaven-headed boys are simply her servants. Personal Review

This show was characterized by loose fitting clothing and masculine silhouettes. Versace used darker colors for this collection. Donatella really focused on creating comfortable, beautiful clothes for men this season. WALES BONNER Vogue.com

Grace Wales Bonner’s work focuses on black male sexuality, masculine identity, and cultural experience. It makes for rich and unexplored terrain—because of the few black designers who have risen to international prominence (immediate examples being Andre Walker, Stephen Burrows, the late Patrick Kelly), all of whom predominantly design for women. Wales Bonner is designing from her own experience and memories, growing up in South East London with an English mother and a Jamaican father. Her paternal grandfather was a tailor. Her collections feel profoundly, poignantly personal—which is possibly why they resonate for so many.

Wales Bonner is 25, but has already received a British Fashion Award recognizing her emerging talent, and is nominated for the 2016 LVMH Prize, despite the fact that her Spring 2017 show was, technically, her first solo outing after a period at talent incubators Fashion East and MAN. That is indicative of London’s current menswear state of mind: Start them young, raise them high, and do it quick. She graduated two years ago.

Wales Bonner’s ideas warrant the attention, as her small, well-formed Spring 2017 show proved. She dedicated it specifically to the 1930 crowning of Haile Selassie as emperor of Ethiopia, but in truth it was pan-African, merging ceremonial styles— military decoration, religious attire—with embellishments of crystals and shells and touches of handicraft, embroideries, and crochet. East Africa, West Africa, the Caribbean, and a European view of them all, then and now. A multitude of perceptions, blending into a new reality. The palette was austere and monochrome, polished Sunday best. The focus was tailoring, of the most formal kind—frock coats, tailcoats, brief capes, single-breasted jackets, buttoning high, with shallow vents over narrow trousers. Technically, they’re demanding styles—of any designer, especially one so young. They were adroitly realized.

Let’s savor that, for a moment. London’s new breed of designers has moved away from tailoring like this as a means to communicate new and engaging ideas. In fact, fashion as a whole has ditched the suit as a medium of creative expression. To see a designer so young grappling with both this medium and this message is really astounding. Not only that, but Wales Bonner has made these clothes feel both relevant, and desirable, to a new generation of men.

To a new generation of women, too. Some retailers have already purchased the elaborate, richly figured velvet garments from her Fall collection as womenswear, where they will be more readily digested by consumers. In reaction, the savvy Wales Bonner offered a few female-specific styles in this runway show. Yet gender is not just important but fundamental to Wales Bonner’s perception of her clothes—she doesn’t seem the sort to jump on bandwagons, let alone anything so trite as “gender fluidity.” It’s the flamboyance of the decorated male she’s really interested in. But rather than the flash offered by other names, Wales Bonner’s richness doesn’t end but rather begins with the surface. It’s what lies beneath that’s really fascinating.

And what’s yet to come. There was much promise in this debut. Business of Fashion To date, LVMH 2016 prize-winner Grace Wales Bonner’s collections have been defined by lush, elegant hybrids of Europe and Africa. For her first stand-alone presentation outside the Fashion East umbrella, she crossed the Atlantic to the Caribbean, a crucible that, in forcing cultures and faiths together in equatorial heat, offered an even more powerful trigger to her imagination. The scope of Wales Bonner’s vision was defined by the title she gave her latest collection: Ezekiel. His Old Testament prophecies played a part in the elevation of Haile Selassie, Emperor of Ethiopia, as a new black messiah. Selassie was famously regarded as such by Jamaica’s Rastafarians, which brings us back to the Caribbean. Worlds bridge, as Wales Bonner observed in her shownotes. But worlds also bridged in Selassie’s integration of formal Western dress and his own ceremonial traditions, and that was one of Wales Bonner’s touchstones for her actual designs. The clothes were a conversation between rigorous, linear tailoring, silken flou and artisanal handcrafts. If there was a sense of one kind of history in a priestly capelet or the line of a long, high-closing coat or the romance of a poet shirt, there was another in the crocheted collar on a black leather bomber, or the crocheted waistband on the trousers of the immaculately precise evening look with which Wales Bonner closed her show. Her subtle integration of these different vocabularies has been a signature from the start, and it’s kickstarted her career, still barely two years old since graduating from Central St. Martin’s, to a spectacular degree. Quietly intense, Wales Bonner insists the attention has made her feel more confident, rather than pressured. And there was at least one look in this new collection which illuminated her glittering future: a three- quarter-sleeved ivory silk shirt flowing over cropped leather motocross pants was a hybrid that so seductively bridged those cultures and faiths we were just talking about that it made you giddy with the heat of the crucible. WWD The mood of the show — Grace Wales Bonner’s first full outing of men’s and women’s wear — was eerily serene and a fitting backdrop for this spare, poetic collection that conjured the messianic figure of the late Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie. Men’s and women’s clothing appeared side by side, and it was often difficult to tell which was which in this collection that was filled with fine tailoring and narrow, nipped and elegantly elongated silhouettes. A palette of cream, white and black only added to the ecclesiastical air of this collection. There were frock coats with cropped sleeves showing off delicate wrists and arms, while a cream narrow-waisted suit was paired with slim trousers that grazed the models’ ankles. Separates came in the form of a starched and long white poet’s blouse that was layered over narrow dark trousers; a long knife-pleat kilt, and a lineup of black preacher’s coats, which were often paired with white, high-collared shirts or ones with sculpted ruffles or stiff cravats. Wales Bonner embellished judiciously — and, boy, what an impact it made. Embroidered trouser waistbands flashed from beneath slim and sober jackets, while tiny white seashells and beads were dotted across a short, dark cape. Colorful crocheted collars adorned a leather jacket or a crinkled, shiny black coat; while colored trinkets, meant to mimic ceremonial honors, dangled from the breast of an austere black . Wales Bonner said she wanted to put the marriage of European tailoring, Carribbean influences — such as the crocheting and homemade-looking handwork — and the spiritual figure of Selassie under the spotlight and explore “how you find some sense of identity.” Let’s hope this thought-provoking journey has only just begun. Personal Review

I loved that this collection was completely black and white. While there were pops of browns and reds in the stitching and accessories here and there, the black and white look made for a cohesive collection. I’m excited to see what else is to come from this young designer. YOHJI YAMAMOTO Vogue.com Parlaying with Yohji Yamamoto post-show is one of the great pleasures of the Paris menswear season. Today a reshuffled schedule, a perfect storm of traffic prompted by the UEFA Euro ’16 Football games and a demonstration (ah, the French), plus a serious chunk of distance between this show and the next precluded that possibility. The only compensation was that you could almost hear Yamamoto’s richly rascally, cigarette-raspy tones narrating the like-the-man archetypes who sidled up and down his runway. On strapped sneakers, slippers, or 12-hole Dr. Martens, Yamamoto’s men trod a fine line between heroic and derelict. Their heads, wrists, and ankles were bandaged with different colored dressings. Some had impressive augmented facial hair that seemed to have run as wild as a forgotten garden in midsummer. The silhouettes shifted between soft-shouldered long boxy jackets over wide high pants which sometimes had a half-apron front, and even longer jackets, coats really, over longer trousers changed at the angle. Shirts were long and loose. Pockets appeared in unconventional but still functional positions, rearranged by the suggestion of past violence like the nose of a boxer is altered by its reality. Yamamoto’s illustrations first manifested themselves in the emblem “Yohjis for hire” on the back of a pale loose canvas blazer. The next one, through the soft fold of its silky undulations, seemed to beseech: “Voulez vous coucher avec moi?” These tough guys looking for love—or hawking it—continued to stroll their patch. Yamamoto layered long- and short-sleeved collared shorts over each other, complemented by more bandages. At the end we got a series of long fluid overcoats that looked to be overprinted in the silhouette of YY brushstrokes. The bearded and battered men wore these to the photographers, paused three-quarters of the way backstage, then stopped to shrug off their coats and return to the pit. These were souvenir overcoats. On the inside (now outside) were more YY self portraits. The audience loved it. Were Yamamoto’s archetypes scarred by war or by love? By the end one suspected the latter. Business of Fashion

Attending a Yohji Yamamoto show is an exercise in reiteration. The Japanese master has long perfected his deconstructionist take on tailoring, each new show being the nth instalment of shapes and cuts that basically never change but basically nor need chase to charm. Because, you know, the older Yohji gets, the more he charms: there were funny slogans and even a couple of Yohji portraits painted on the back of fluid dusters which topped roomy jackets and cropped pants. It gave everything an ironic, cheerful twist. Strong nods to japanese workwear and looks that suggested a street gangster thing gave a punchy vibe to the proceedings, which made for a solid outing. WWD

When Yohji Yamamoto started his men’s collection in the Eighties, he was “against the standard business suit,” he explained backstage after his show.

For spring, he returned to the same impulse and that formative decade, yielding a strong collection rooted in loose, oversize layers and dovetailing with many of the emerging trends in Paris.

His languid duster coats had character to spare: many plain in meaty ; others in black silk blotted with deep purple. Some were hand-painted with oblique slogans that proved Yamamoto doesn’t take himself so seriously.

“I am slump” was a joke, the designer said with a sly smile, noting that the men’s business is “booming.” And “Yohji is for hire” was not a plea for a new job. “He is for hire, for fire, for rent, for sale,” he said with a laugh.

Even if some of the clothes lacked obvious youth appeal, they felt current as Yamamoto patched his long shirts and shirt jackets with safari and military pockets. And all the pants were cropped and wide, just the ticket this season.

Unusual for a men’s show, and so very Eighties, the finale models removed their coats and came back for a second photo, showing off fancy printed linings and elaborate painted motifs. This got a smattering of applause, also a rarity these days. Personal Review

This was another collection characterized by loose, comfortable fitting clothing. The clothes were heavily layered, and would be easy to pull apart to create endless looks. Stripes were a popular trend this season, and this designer incorporated a lot of stripes into the collection, too. 3.1 PHILLIP LIM Vogue.com

I don’t wanna lie. It’s a bit wtf reviewing a collection when it’s lumpenly on the rail and there’s no designer around to deliver his/her creative spiel. So props to Phillip Lim and his top team for making that hollow experience a pleasure in Paris today. Following last season’s closely curated mise-en-scène, Lim was sadly absent today, but his collection spoke strongly despite that. Fuchsia camo shirting, more truly tip-top reversible joggers and boxing shorts, spiffing wide-brimmed hats, seductive suede shorts and joggers were a few highlights. The “nightime floral” was an effective motif running through this collection. There is little point trying to extrapolate in the absence of the author, but what we had here was a rack of clothes that were cut for progressive, creative, and modern men of taste and verve. Meaning be damned—just charge it to credit and deliver it posthaste. WWD

Phillip Lim presented a confident collection, strong on unstructured, lightweight tailoring. Cue oversize Bermuda shorts and roomy trousers with turned-up cuffs, while denim bottoms followed the same aesthetic, evocative of the Fifties and bringing to mind James Dean in “Rebel Without a Cause.” Particularly strong silhouettes included double-breasted jackets and elongated tops paired with cropped carrot pants.

The sartorial numbers still let off a youthful air, as they were mixed with kimono-style shirting in cotton poplin and double-suede, as well as bowler tops. Visual change came through a mixed-media jacket, a graphic knit cardigan and pieces with vintage leopard prints – this season rendered in fuchsia.

Overall, the collection provided a spirited wardrobe for an athletic guy who doesn’t want to try too hard to dress up. Hype Beast

Eschewing the runway again in favor of a visually cohesive presentation, designer Phillip Lim unveiled his label’s spring/summer 2017 collection in a series of looks with a film noir-style context for Paris Fashion Week. Featuring loose-fitting suits, suede trousers, silk button-downs and utility vests, topped off with loafers and bold floral graphics, the overall aesthetic strikes a balance between classic menswear work staples and lighthearted, lounge-inspired elements. A larger narrative is displayed through the vacillation of color and black and white images setting a dramatic tone, while fusing classic and contemporary themes. Scroll through the image gallery above to view 3.1 Phillip Lim’s latest collection. Personal Review

This collection was very casual and sporty looking. The clothes were loose and allowed for a lot of movement. Men’s Fashion Week Trends Spring 2017 YELLOW

Thom Browne Bottega Veneta Hermes Alexander McQueen Pigalle

Gucci Boris Bidjan Saberi Rick Owens Topman Damir Doma STRIPES

Carven MSGM Bally Fendi Raf Simons

Salvatore Ferragamo A.P.C. Ami Trussardi Yohji Yamamoto TOTALLY WAISTED

Sacai Dries Van Noten Lemaire Balenciaga Wooyoungmi

Rick Owens Wales Bonner Topman Sandro Neil Barrett ONESIE UPON A TIME

Louis Vuitton Walter Van Beirendonck Valentino Sacai Ralph Lauren

Salvatore Ferragamo Y-3 Hermes Maison Margiela J.W. Anderson WHITE ON WHITE

Issey Miyake Diesel Black Gold Bottega Veneta Alexander McQueen Sandro

Damir Doma Junya Watanabe Trussardi A.P.C. Lemaire PLAID IS RAD

Christopher Kane J.W. Anderson Lanvin Coach Moncler Gamme Bleu

A.P.C. Junya Watanabe Louis Vuitton Missoni Off-White BEACH

Gucci McQ Paul & Joe Lou Dalton Fausto Puglisi

Missoni Moschino Thom Browne Topman Coach ARMY

Dries Van Noten Givenchy Bottega Veneta Facetasm Valentino

Faith Connexion Dsquared2 Belstaff Miharayasuhiro Emporio Armani LEOPARD

Dolce & Gabbana Marc Jacobs Alexander McQueen 3.1 Phillip Lim Faith Connexion

Sir Tom Baker Visvim Moschino Coach Roberto Cavalli SHEER

Walter Van Beirendonck Y/Project Ann Demeulemeester Off-White Comme des Garçons Homme

Dior Homme KTZ Dries Van Noten Versace Louis Vuitton FINAL THOUGHTS

A lot of designers did not focus on creating a masculine look for their line. Some designers purposefully created a line that with a more feminine look to it, blurring the lines between sexes and creating an overall unisex look. A handful of designers showed womenswear with the menswear this season, and even more are predicted to next season.

It appears that a lot of the designers drew inspiration for their collections from the past. Some focused on different decades, and some focused on childhood pasts.

A popular trend on the runway was loose fitting, comfortable clothes. A lot of the designers focused more on darker colors and less structured looks.