Sir Paul Smith is known to take his party hosting very seriously, busying about and hovering over shoulders to make sure his guests have all they need for a proper frolic. The same meticulous pursuit of leisurely perfection seeped through his Spring men’s collection, staged under the soaring glass dome of the Bourse de Commerce, where a site-specific garden of potted cacti and succulents had been installed, replacing the piles of Oriental rugs in the same space last season.

He explained the plants backstage. “My young designers, who are only 20 to 25, are so interested in cultivating their own gardens,” he said. “I think it’s so delightful that the young generation wants to do that. The news is so full of horror. When people ask my advice, I think of them and say, ‘Just relax. Tend a garden.'”

The greenery, which made it into the collection as a fern print, was but one facet of the sprawling show. Smith typically melds eclectic cultural sources with idiosyncratic colors and textures, creating a well-traveled, well-informed Pop sensibility. He did the same here in a disparate assemblage of near-louche scarves, desert shades, friendship rings, subtle paisley (if paisley can be subtle), at least two kinds of fringe, papery leather, a chevron motif, purplish plaids, and kitschy prints—all converging to create a lively and decidedly outré rejoinder to the chaos of the world.

The two pieces of a traditional suit—no vests here, somewhat surprisingly—had been pulled apart and paired with other, more casual items of the modern man’s wardrobe: pajamas, tunics, track pants, shorts, sweatshirts, Harrington jackets. The liquid loungewear aspect may not find its way into men’s wardrobes as easily as the humorous knits or the dusty dégradé. But it’s an option, should any of Smith’s customers be in the market for proper frolic attire. Besides, he says, “I was brought up on Pop Art and rock ‘n’ roll. I will always be irreverent.”
—Lee Carter
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Thom Browne‘s Fall scenario—the hunter and the hunted—could also be read as man against nature. And it had an ending that could be construed as happy. “The animals prevail,” said Browne at the time. This season, the elaborately staged competition was between man and machine. “They all lose in the end,” was Browne’s cheery summation this time round. That makes man a two-time loser. Has Browne got something against guys? Legions of the Unconvinced would cast their eyes over his designs and come to that conclusion, so…er…idiosyncratic is his approach to menswear. But connoisseurs of his oeuvre would see instead a radical, experimental revision of the male form. It’s almost as though Browne has been making a new man for himself. He’s fashion’s Dr. Frankenstein, with all the idealism and horror that implies.

Utopia and dystopia: Browne in a nutshell. Today, they came together in a collection that, he claimed, took inspiration from TRON, the 1982 sci-fi stinker that became a cult. Ahead of its time, actually, with its life-is-a-video-game story. Browne isn’t really a video game kind of guy. More likely little Thom was glued to the puppet fantasia Thunderbirds, with the young heroes of International Rescue thronging round Lady Penelope in her pink Rolls-Royce. The models with their perfectly sculpted plastic masks, articulated stiffness, and jaunty caps did indeed look eerily like International Rescue. Like puppets, in other words.

The scenario was this: Browne’s arena was filled with a field of human statuary, 23rd-century robots patrolled by guards bearing lightsabers. Around this compound paced two antagonistic tribes: one sculpted from human anatomy stripped to its elemental musculature, the other all points and spikes and pixilated definition (the ghost of Klaus Nomi hovering over the compound). The fun was, as usual, in plumbing Browne’s intent. Yes, he was enjoying molding classic American fabrics like seersucker, tweed, and cotton into anatomical show-and-tells. But how could he alchemize this obsessively realized, minutely detailed (sixty to eighty pattern pieces in each jacket!) compendium of all-but-couture techniques into a collection of clothes that would bring men to their hind legs in appreciation? Why bother? The robots who sat motionless for hours while the fancy-pants paraded around them were the ones wearing the classically cut and fabricated clothing that would most likely end up in stores. In the end, it felt a bit like we’d been snookered by a master magician. Magic relies on distraction. Color this crowd distracted.
—Tim Blanks
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Our review will be posted shortly. See the complete collection by clicking the image at left.
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Our review will be posted shortly. See the complete collection by clicking the image at left.
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Virgil Abloh, the multitalented ambassador of youth culture, has finally infiltrated the world of fashion. His brand Off-White started as a step in the evolution of his vision for elevated streetwear, and is now a fully developed collection with an atelier up and running in Milan. Abloh is, in his mind, a shepherd. His mission: To “carry kids down the path of more informed streetwear, a streetwear that is more sophisticated but still has the signifying details of classic.”

That is exactly what Abloh offered up for the Spring/Summer 2015 collection. The range is overflowing with ideas, mostly centered around the world of a street-savvy beach bum. Layering is key to the Off-White look: The collection’s high notes involve T-shirts and shorts as top layers; elongated mesh skirts; ponchos; and striking red, black, and white monochrome ensembles. The thicker plastisol screen-printing techniques that have been popular for the last few years—used for Abloh’s old Pyrex wears as well as previous Off-White collections—have been swapped out for softer, less perfect graphics, often appearing near hems on shirts and pants. Jeans were cut long and tapered, a fit reminiscent of Hedi Slimane’s coveted Dior Homme denim circa 2005. Rider jackets in black and ready leather and neoprene were cool enough to be must-haves for the season.

With this effort, Abloh has proven that he has an eye for color and a keen sense of how a full collection is put together, but he’s limited by his adherence to familiar ideas, relying on a few streetwear tropes that are ready to be retired—crotch prints, sweatpants, military patches. Paint splatters and fringe distressing aren’t quite convincing enough to portray the Baja-surf culture vibe Abloh’s attempting to capture.

Surely Abloh’s is a very active mind, with the potential to have influence greater than some of the very large, old fashion houses he now resides with in Milan. He made his name pushing the boundaries for what T-shirts and hoodies can be, but now that he’s in Milan bumping elbows with Prada and Gucci, he’ll have to start taking even bigger risks to stand out.
—Noah Johnson
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