Designers with big brains are unfortunately confined to small screens, budgets, and their time slots on the show schedule. But what if we could take Thom Browne’s tweeds into a majestic hayfield in upstate New York, or into the mud and brambles for which these Anglo-Irish fabrics were originally intended? And, equally, we could join the evocative Raul Lopez in a Dominican bar in Brooklyn and then watch his guys and girls parade in their hot boots and feathers into the street?
That’s my dream — to see fashion placed in a native landscape, given more context and heroic meaning than is possible in the lobby of a Wall Street office building (Lopez’s venue for his brand Luar) or a black box at the Shed, in Hudson Yards, where Browne presented his collection. As it is, a number of big-budget houses, like Chanel and Gucci, put on road shows once or twice a year around the world, but they’re typically linked with an architectural or cultural treasure, and the models might as well be walking in Milan for all the energy they convey. With few exceptions, fashion is in lockstep and losing meaning. And the system itself is largely to blame.
Lopez called his collection “El Pato,” which means “duck,” but it’s also a homophobic slur. “It’s a term I’m reclaiming,” Lopez said. “Especially now, and not because of what’s happening politically, but just generally. I just want to love it and be it. I’m fully el pato. I don’t give a shit.” A couple of knitted showpieces were engineered to keep the models’ forearms partially aloft, with fingers pointing down — a gesture that Lopez remembers among gay boys.
This collection seemed to me a more simplified and direct Luar, but no less forceful, with the best looks being barrel-cut pants with a molded, face-framing bustier, a tough-looking ’80s-style dress in either denim or black leather with strong shoulders, and a draped minidress in brown jersey worn by Paloma Elsesser. Much of Luar strikes me as resistance — resistance to the tame and ordinary, in the form of a bomber covered extravagantly with glossy black feathers or a white version made of faux feathers sheathed in clear plastic. There’s both joy and darkness in Lopez’s work: in those high, stiff, protective collars and glasses, in the strut of his elaborate thigh-high boots. As he said, with a laugh, of the boots, “You don’t have to wear anything, and the boot just does the job.”
A small flock of origami birds, about 2,000 on the floor at the Shed, were Browne’s emblems of nature and freedom. In this colorful, touching show, the designer featured bird motifs on some of the mostly tailored clothes. He said, “I feel, especially nowadays, that designers sometimes aren’t appreciated as much and they seem so disposable. I wanted to make a story about the freedom to to be really true to yourself and express things exactly as you want to express them.”
There must be a small irony in the fact that in the United Kingdom, tweeds have traditionally — but not exclusively — been worn for shooting pheasants and other game birds. Still, nothing about Browne’s spree of tweeds and repp tie silks (used to break up pleated tweed skirts) was quite conventional. He used 30 different tweeds from the English mills of Fox Brothers and Linton and from an Irish supplier, and the range of colors and patterns was visually positive. The traditional can always be transformed and made new again.
I also loved the breadth of shapes and proportions, nearly all within the tailoring tradition, including an ankle-length, straight-line skirt; fitted dresses with bands of colored silk set on the bias; and jackets and dresses with small bird appliqués or patches finished with blanket stitching. No single hemline was repeated. And the candy-colored gingham shirts made a nice, irreverent contrast with the tweeds. Perhaps more than in the past, Browne offered many, many ways for someone to enter his world.
Although the fall collections were pretty weak, Michael Kors helped to make a strong finish. Timing matters in fashion, and he delivered a sense of ease and tailored polish, with suits and coats that were oversize but not drowning. Among the best bets were lightly paper-bagged trousers, including a dark pair worn simply with a white silk blouse, and suits and separates in shades of gray ranging from purplish dawn to slate.
Also noteworthy was Ashlynn Park’s collection, with its rounded shapes — for her softer, more flattering version of barrel-cut pants and semi-fitted tops with a moderate peplum — and a cool range of neutrals spiced up with a bit of red. Park, whose label is called Ashlyn, made a leap forward this season with her designs.
And Maria McManus, now in her fifth year, presented a small but individual-looking collection in a Tribeca apartment, with tops finished with French lace, well-done pants suits, and a not-too-voluminous black coat with a detachable matching scarf. Some of her looks have changed little. She said, “We’ve just been making them better and better.”
