By Tim Blanks
There is no one who can touch Slimane for this kind of fanboy completism in fashion. He can gloss the garage band-iness of it all with a sophisticated son-et-lumière presentation, but his spirit is with the kids who sat on the floor at tonight’s show.
He’s their Pied Piper. His clothes speak to them. Whose legs will ever be that stovepipe-y again? Still, Slimane is a businessman as well as a designer. Tonight, he broadened his constituency with a collection that sized the tailoring up a notch, Teddy Boy rather than speed-riven punk, drape jackets rather than shrunken bumfreezers. Plus a selection of coats so gorgeous they came from outerwear heaven: digital tweed, micro-leopard print, maxi-houndstooth mohair, a stripey thing, and best of all, a herringbone that sparkled like it had been paved with sequins.
It was a moment to reflect on how Slimane throws you a drape in green Lurex, a jacket in gold lamé leopard, a black leather blazer alive with silver studs, and all of it just fits into his steamroller design ethos. A Froth lyric intoned, “Anything you read is so easy to believe.” But critics carp. Clothes speak.