Fashion week comes to a halt

Call it Freeze Fashion Week: With Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral in September right in the middle of the official London Fashion Week, many designers have decided to take a different approach to this week, with London opening, instead of rushing to the crowded venues in the previous days. The annual art exhibition.

With more than 60,000 visitors expected, and several million pounds to be exchanged, there’s a natural link between Frieze and fashion – if you spend a lot on painting, you’ll probably spend a lot on clothes too. London-based luxury retailer MatchesFashion.com has been present at Frieze shows since 2018, including fair pop-up shops. “It’s definitely a business for us,” said Jess Christie, chief brand and content officer of MatchesFashion.com. “Our main goal is to find a customer.”

Alexander McQueen planned to show the day before the official opening of the frieze before the Queen’s passing. It’s a brand that has done more than most to blur the line between art and fashion in the collective consciousness – founder Lee Alexander McQueen knowingly references the work of artists such as Rebecca Horn and Joel-Peter Witkin in his shows. They are not the usual fashion fodder.

The label’s creative director, Sarah Burton, is more functional in her designs, less theatrical – there was no hint of Witkin’s cadaver on her spring/summer 2023 catwalk, instead intricate embroideries and giant eye prints inspired by Hieronymus Bosch’s “Paradise of Earthly Delights”, eyeing viewers with intensity. That dressing was a strong point of this show, including a revival of McQueen’s coccyx-baring “Bumster” pants with Gen Z’s proclivities for ’90s hip-hugger waistlines.

Overall, the lines seemed sleeker and less romantic than Burton’s earlier offerings—gone, generally, were ball gowns, with sculpted leather bodices and asymmetric skirts in a stark modern palette of black, hazy orange or Yves Klein blue. “Our clothes are designed to inspire,” said Burton, who used the word “distinguished” for those pieces that were actually lasers. But, backstage, Burton was handcuffed to her wrist – a reminder that McQueen’s clothes are the product of humans rather than machines. They are also not clinical when they appear to be skinned.

Roksanda Ilincic’s show had not only art but also heart. She dedicated it to her father, who passed away this year, and performed the Black Chapel at the Gates Monument, which Ilincic explained was the cause of the artist’s father’s death. Ilincic’s show was originally planned to take place at Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral, but the move to Frieze Week allowed her to play with the art forms that often draw audiences to her clothes – Tetteh director Maria Balshaw and the Serpentine’s Hans Ulrich Obrist attended alongside artists and writers.

Gates’ space allowed reflection, but Ilincic’s talent for color — this time inspired by the estate of artist Pipilotti — allowed him to sing. This collection was bolder, bolder than her last few offerings. His most successful outings weren’t wacky tailoring — a quilted wool jacket color-blocked in four different colors seemed like a tough sell — but a series of riotous, fun, and multi-nightwear inspired by roses. “There’s the symbolism of roses — you take them to someone when a baby is born or at a wedding — and there’s a rose you put on a grave,” she said.

It was a simple idea – and the shapes of these dresses had a gentle beauty – but they packed a big impact, bursting from the bodies of the models, sometimes inserting them into the fabric. In some cases, they became more sculpture than costume—indeed, this was for the audience to see. It was a perfect blend of fantasy and reality – that voice, over white green pants and green taffeta. It comes to life like Leek, but more fun.

A day before his spring/summer 2023 show, Raf Simons was browsing the art fair’s kiosks. He is a collector and conservator – the latter often expressed through his clothing, which has featured collaborations with Sterling Ruby and the Robert Mapthorpe Foundation.

During this period, he worked with the less famous Philip Vandenberg. Occasionally, Vandenberg’s paper works appear to be wrapped around the bodies of Simmons’ models, sometimes hanging free when ripped straight from the wall.

There was rawness in this set and performance, at London dance venue Printworks, a former newspaper printing facility in Southwark due to close for refurbishment next year. Simmons threw a tantrum, interrupted halfway through as the open bar cleared and models strutted the length to a standing audience.

Escaping the traditional seat of power from fashion shows, it was a Darwinian battle in front of the crowd to see the clothes, meaning you had the chance to be cheeky and cheeky with young Simone fans, as well as Valentino’s creative director Pierpaolo Piccioli. Stylist Olivier Rizzo or photographers Willie Vanderpere and David Sims were all present.

“I didn’t want to make Blitz a kid’s show,” Simmons told me a few days ago. “London for me is tradition and classicism.” Hence the presence of refined tailoring alongside body-hugging pieces inspired by modern and classical dance.

The idea of ​​dance was expressed through leotards with a variety of creations – poplin shirting, fishnet and mohair, as well as the more common fine woolen sweater – and a strong body consciousness that signaled excessive shapes from the Siemens influence.

“What do I always have to give up in order to come to something new” was the question he asked himself – but there was no anger, but rather the joy of new dimensions that seemed fresh and exciting.

Vintage gloves were placed on the elbows and backs of jackets – they reflected the V sign for victory or peace. Simmons accomplished both. As he took off, half-way down the bar-runway, he simply leapt into the waiting crowd, like a rock star. Less wise, more party.

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