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THE WONDERKID WHO WOKE UP NEW YORK
REPORT LAURA ANTON IA JORDAN
IT DIDN’T MAKE for an auspicious start to last week’s New York Fashion Week that there was more chatter about who wouldn’t be there than who would. With Calvin Klein sitting out the season (following Raf Simons’ departure in November) and Rodarte the latest hot ticket to skip town (the Mulleavy sisters showed in Los Angeles), it felt like the city that never sleeps might hardly be worth getting out of bed for.
But, steady on. This is a city with grit; you’d be silly to count it out. And so, NYFW delivered its big twist in the first act, served up in the form of Tomo
Koizumi. Not heard of him? That’s understandable. The Japanese costume designer was plucked from relative obscurity just a month ago by super-stylist Katie Grand, who discovered his work via her friend Giles Deacon. Grand offered to help Koizumi put on his first show, and duly assembled an all-star team to pull it off: Pat Mcgrath on make-up, Guido on hair, Marc Jacobs’ Madison Avenue store providing the standing-room only venue. Mega models including Bella Hadid walked in Koizumi’s extravagant candy confections, whipped up from metres of Japanese organza. But I hardly need tell you that – by now, you’ve no doubt seen it all over Instagram. If curiosity got people through the door, the clothes kept them talking about it – for days. Definitely a moment.
Koizumi wasn’t the only new talent shaking up the week. ‘I guess I feel like there’s more room to be noticed,’ said the designer Batsheva Hay, ahead of her show in her West Broadway pop up, where models read Courtney Love lyrics (she was in the audience) and wore the subversively frumpy designs Batsheva’s become synonymous with. ‘ There aren’t that many established brands – it’s a free-for-all.’
Case in point: Edwin Mohney. The Buffalo-based, Central St Martins graduate who’s designed costumes for Beyoncé and Lady Gaga, decided to set up shop ( literally) on a non-descript, unfashionable stretch of Canal Street. ‘I felt such FOMO,’ laughed the designer in the empty store-front he’d hired and filled with his theatrical, outlandishly funny pieces. ‘ You can’t complain about not being up to much and not actually put yourself out there.’ Take note of these names now, too: Caroline Hu and Puppets and Puppets.
The baggy schedule has given some of New York’s most exciting young talent room to breathe. Brands like Telfar, Area and Vaquera feel less like interesting punctuation points and more like mustsees. Eckhaus Latta, which can get even the most high-maintenance editors to decamp to Bushwick, are really raising their game. Their collaboration with Ugg is indicative of a brand with commercial savvy as well as creative might (and trust me, heeled Uggs are much more desirable than they sound).
A world away from their downtown contemporaries, there was also young talent shaking up established houses. Laura Kim and Fernando Garcia presented their best Oscar de la Renta collection to date; Nicole Glass continued to build a collection of peppy ready-to-wear at Kate Spade, a brand known more for its accessories. And Carolina Herrera’s Wes Gordon made a play for the daughters and granddaughters of the immaculate women who already patronise the house. ‘I think for a long time there’s been a misunderstanding that elegance has to be uptight and boring and stiff and oldfashioned,’ he said backstage. ‘But it can be fun and colourful and fabulous and joyful.’
There’s also a quiet joy and power to be found in wearability – just look at the Democratic women of Congress. New York has an impressive set of female designers who are producing confident, considered clothes that – gasp! – you can actually imagine wearing in the real world ( honorary mention to Tommy Ton, the
street-style photographer-turned-creative director of Deveaux, whose excellent collection was, ironically, the antithesis of the flash street style he has become known for). Women like Khaite’s Catherine Holstein, who made a play for the #Oldcéline woman with her debut catwalk collection of luxe American classics, and Gabriela Hearst, who is building a sophisticated brand on the solid foundations of sustainability she knows her socially attuned, intellectually rigorous and excellently dressed woman wants. Or women like Rosetta Getty, Tibi’s Amy Smilovic, Longchamp’s Sophie Delafontaine and Zadig & Voltaire’s Cecilia Bönström, all of whom produced pieces your best self ’s wardrobe might need, be that a crepe back satin shirtdress (Getty) or a reworked basketball tee (Bönström).
‘ Women are individuals now,’ said Tory Burch backstage after her collection inspired by Black Mountain College, the liberal arts college founded in 1933, known for helping shape the trajectory of modern American art. If the progressive ethos of the college is a pertinent message for now, so was Burch’s collection in its eclecticism. A puffer thrown over a printed maxidress, a silk blouse with denim, excellent patchwork boots just because – this is how women want to dress now: instinctively rather than prescriptively.
Burch is one of American fashion’s headliners, and there was still plenty of space for the big names. Ralph Lauren showcased an elegant collection of forever pieces over breakfast at Ralph’s. Boss developed its collection of desirably spare separates for a working life in the city. At Coach, Stuart Vevers joined forces with the decorative artist Kaffe Fassett, renowned for his use of pattern and colour in the ’60s and ’70s to put a psychedelic stamp on the Americana he’s made his own. Tom Ford, meanwhile, stripped back ( his version of it, admittedly) with a collection of sleek, sexy, ’90s-inspired tailoring. He can still do showstopping, of course; an order has already been placed for the lavish crystalencrusted gown that closed the show. And then there was Michael Kors’ love letter to Studio 54, a much-needed shot of optimism times like these call for, complete with boas, patchwork metallic coats and slinky sequin dresses worthy of Diana Ross. Patti Hansen closed the show, before Barry Manilow appeared on stage performing Copacabana. You wondered if you’d been up all night.
And so to Marc Jacobs, a big ticket designer who still possesses an alluringly provocative spirit. In his usual, vast Park Avenue Armory venue, Jacobs stripped right back. A smaller, more intimate audience, less looks than usual, the show soundtracked by a string quartet off in the distance. The collection was lyrically beautiful, moving in its combination of the theatrical and the restrained. In a black feather gown, Christy Turlington closed the show, the first catwalk the super has walked since the ’90s. It was another moment. This was the season the city that never sleeps woke up.