HatS oFF to raF
winter show was steeped in the “teen raF SimonS’S spirit”, a variation captured in the scrawled– on white lab coats of continental fresher hazings. The catwalk itself was raised up high, and there were no seats and no front row. People stood where they felt like it and the ambience was like a happening divorced from the usual pecking orders. The trousers swept the floor, too long for a growing teen body. The clothes looked patched together, unfinished, or in non–luxury fabrics, reeking of those dark, turbulent, untamed teen years.