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LFW Day 5
September 17, 2014
Tom Ford’s show on Monday night left us with a bit of an LFW hangover. Was I the only one who stomped to the office on Tuesday with ‘Addicted To Love’ playing over in my head? Monday was a sexless day at LFW: Burberry’s girl didn’t know what sex was; Issa’s wouldn’t dare speak about it; and Christopher Kane’s was too sad to even think about it. Tom Ford put a swift end to the drought. Never one to do anything any way other than his own, Tom settled his guests into sumptuous furnishings, plied them with Champagne, and then stunned them with the most glamorous peep-show they’d ever seen, or will again.
Black, silver and one blink of absolutely non-virginal white was the unseasonal palette. Garments were structured to accentuate everything: a glimpse of thigh towering above an eight-inch heel; dazzling pasties covering, but highlighting, otherwise exposed breasts; black, glittering straps created a censoring interest to dresses that were otherwise transparent; even when modesty was almost achieved – in a fringed leather jacket, trouser or full-length skirt – the only time it was allowed to stray from the body was when a hem would flare, dramatically, toward the floor.
The glam-rock models had matching fringes that covered heavy eyes and were more than reminiscent of his Gucci era. This was Tom Ford at his very, very best. As ‘Addicted To Love’ blasted back on, we eagerly awaited the finale. It didn’t come. Tom Ford’s woman only gives you one chance. Appearing from the darkness and taking his bow in his menswear line’s spring 2015 double-denim – symbolic perhaps of the comfort zone that this collection has placed him in – the nine-minute show’s climax was the man himself, and he left us whetted, addicted, and craving more.
Day Five seemed to be over in a flash, but wasn’t it fun. Osman Yousefzada was inspired by The Beach and Nineties bohemia, ticking all the boxes of the trends so far – sheer, foil, vivid pastels and fringe. Anya Hindmarch let the bags do the talking, literally, with faces and messages all over them – bringing the Eighties back with an ode to childhood stickers, and a confessional purse claiming “I shot J.R.”. Ashish went full-on with their signature sequins creating festooned looks of snakeskin, rainbows and slogans for both sexes. At Fashion East, the three young designers’ collections that collectively resembled the cast of Channel 5’s The Tribe (I loved The Tribe, I’m not being a bitch) was sadly disrupted and hence overshadowed when a man – believed to be a tradesman from a neighbouring building site – fell through a glass panel in the roof. The show carried on, which was perhaps the wrong decision and certainly unfair to the designers and their shocked audience, while the man received medical attention and he is now recovering in hospital.
Franco-British duo Meadham Kirchoff closed London Fashion Week with a show that epitomised just what separates LFW from NY, M or P – the ability and acceptance to just do whatever the hell you want! Their chaotic collection created a new New Romantic, and made us wonder if – take us back to the Eighties again – this is how we would have dressed to party with Gaultier or Galliano.
And then it was over. Again. So until January – when London Collections: Men shakes us out of our festive inertia – it’s over to you, Milano.