Like many people who have worked in fashion for a long time it's hard not to question why anyone needs another dress or t-shirt or dare I say, another handbag. Fashion week seems to be happening all the time now and I'm starting to suffer from fashion-OCD, where either out of habit or responsibility to my career I am compelled to click through Every. Single. Show but at the same time, I absorb almost nothing. I guess you could say I have crossed the rubicon into fashion fatigue-dom.
But then through all the blog posts, instagram selfies, and street-style shots something genuine blasts through your jaded core and reminds you that even though fashion has become a relentlessly commercial, data-driven, and wasteful industry there are still moments of artistry, respect for craft, and magic.
There were two shows in particular that moved me this season:
Dries Van Noten and
Alexander McQueen. The former, who's purity of vision not only demonstrates how consistently true to himself he is after over 30 years of unfiltered, private ownership but who is also able to raise the bar season after season; the latter, who's legacy and genius has somehow been enhanced, if not improved, by his disciple and successor, Sarah Burton. McQueen, the house, has often had a way with knitwear that surprises and astounds; for me, this season did that yet again. I can't say the fairisle patchworks scream "Spring!" but climate change and fashion calendar chaos has made the conventional concept of seasons obsolete. Perhaps then the intricate gossamer lace dresses knitted from baby fine wool will appeal to one's breezier aspirations. Wearable? Well, that may be a trickier proposition but sometimes it's just plain nice to suspend practicality and sales figures and appreciate something beautiful.