A Brief, Belated Fashion Month Post
I haven't mentioned the SS17 shows on here yet as I've already reported on them for various websites (as usual, mainly for the lovely people at Decoded and HTF) and I feel it's too late for me to write an original show round-up for the blog because runway reportage is the most ephemeral genre in the already-very-ephemeral world of fashion journalism. I have also been quite busy doing other things recently, including working on the launch of a new fashion website with some brilliant bloggy people and, on a deeper level, some work for Stylist Magazine about mental health. The latter has been difficult as it involves me talking in depth about my own mental health, which is an uncomfortable topic for me as the only people I can talk to about such issues are my closest friends and my boyfriend. It's particularly painful because I have some very conceited family members who treat me like a leper because I dropped out of uni and decided to finish my degree remotely while working two jobs – these people have no idea how I was feeling a couple of years ago because they weren't there to support me, so it feels weird to know that they will read my article, not say anything about it, continue to ignore me at Christmas dinner and then maybe ask me in June if they can come to my graduation (so they can boast to their friends about it). But, besides further ostracising myself from the family unit, I'm pleased with the piece – I'll share more about it when it goes to print.
Anyway, I only followed London Fashion Week properly this season, admittedly because the BFC made me feel obliged to do so, having sent me some shiny press passes. I usually check out the Milan and Paris shows too, because I enjoy Miuccia Prada's efforts to intellectualise t-shirts, and I'm always excited to see which 'cultural movement' Karl Lagerfeld has tapped in to to inspire his latest Chanel collection (this time the theme was the future, interpreted in an adorably facile way: think robot heads, computers and LEDs). However, I couldn't properly enjoy the shows because Style.com is now Vogue.com and, well, we all know that Vogue.com is shit.
I've picked out some of my favourite moments – note, 'moments', not entire collections, and not necessarily even entire looks – from the SS17 shows.
SHRIMPS'S presentation, which was an absolute dream of Pepto Bismol-hued fluffiness, as I captured above.
CHALAYAN's SS17 is proof that colour is not always our friend. But technology (specifically, that Intel Curie module again) is.
The above comment on the Chalayan collection which was, as usual, woefully overlooked by many on The Fashion Spot.
The paradox of working in fashion is that you rarely earn enough money to actually buy the clothes you salivate over for a living. This is how I feel about MARNI, whose SS17 collection was typically gorgeous. I really hope that Francesco Risso doesn't ruin the brand because it is perfect as it is. This is the brand that really makes me wish I'd tried harder in school and got a degree in law or something.
If you thought Chanel's heavy-handed interpretation of life in the ~future~ was ridiculous, MARC JACOBS put dreadlocks on the catwalk (and then dug a hole for himself online) and DOLCE AND GABBANA put a load of millennials in its front row and uploaded three pictures of them to Instagram with the sort of nauseating captions that make you not want to live on this planet any more. 'It's all about the millennials this season!' proclaims D&G's social media team, while everyone else looked at the tags in the pictures and wondered who the hell all these people were. Really, though, who are these people?
And, finally, PREEN deserves a mention because they put pressed flowers on their models' faces instead of contour or highlight.