Wow, things are really out of proportion. Inflation is everywhere.
That is often how life seems in the morning. On Monday evening, in the New York Public Library, Marc Jacobs simply gave some shape to the situation and put it on the runway.
In the third of what his show series of extreme silhouettes could be called, he formed tops so that they squeezed the shoulders and were hit at the back, and then cut them just above the waist. In combination with an oversized pants that protruded as if they had flying buttresses, they removed the hull and extended their legs. It seemed as if you were looking at the model from below, their small heads kilometers away.
Skirts continued to blown as storm clouds that were about to blow, jackets and jackets in leather and leopard looked on trompe l’Oil isolated vests of life, and party dresses covered with giant sequins were more related to festive clicks. Pumps were elongated in duck legs and platform boots appeared in rhino horns on the toes.
In the protective structures (let’s call them it), the models seemed like small dolls that wore larger doll clothes. The fact that many of them had a gigantic sequins on their mouths that looked like both a pacifier and a button was even more disturbing. It went with the soundtrack, Philip Glass’s hypnotic shocking ‘Einstein on the Beach’, which almost the theme song of Mr. Jacobs has become, he uses it so often.
Mr. Jacobs left the New York Fashion Week calendar about five years ago and is now treating his runway more like a laboratory than as a business company. No, he does not expect you to wear this stuff – it is only sold at Bergdorf Goodman – although guests such as Tracee Ellis Ross did, and she looked like she enjoyed it.
Instead, he investigated these ideas, which essentially take the American sportswear tradition and filter them through a heavy (sometimes too heavy) Rei Kawakubo-influenced lens. But while in the past his work had some kind of Betty Bop playing, it saw this time dystopically. You can understand it.
In his show notes, Mr. Jacobs called the collection ‘courage’ and wrote about the freedom to ‘imagine without restriction’. It was not exactly a clarion call, but three days before the start of the official ready-made shows, it can turn out to be a pacesetter.
Not to mention a useful memory of how much your perspective depends on exactly where you are.
