Last season, Steven Cox and Daniel Silver spun the hands of time backward, opening with the restrained control of their most recent collections, closing with the fabulous delirium of their early days. After that career overview in reverse, they opted for consolidation with their latest. The first look—a straitjacket knit with asymmetrically wrapped trousers—suggested the like-me-if-you-dare quality that has been both blessing and bane throughout the Duckie saga. It was mercifully followed by a short but sweet series of immaculately realized items, as straightforward as a black cashmere Crombie, as inventive as a canvas peacoat digitally printed with an image of crumpled knitwear. There were none of the usual Duckie distractions: no scarves or gloves. No shirts, either. Just twisted knitwear under jackets and coats.
Cox described the collection as "our most beautiful." It was easy to see why he would feel like that. The guy is a born tailor, which he proved with his mastery of the difficult eight-pleated trousers that were the keynote of this outing. They made a striking partner to the trim three-button jacket with high armholes. Charlie Chaplin might be one reference point. And how's Chanel for another? A coat, a jacket, a sweatshirt in something the designers called "a bruised tweed" had distant whispers of la vraie Coco. The fact that they were anchored by Duckie Brown's reworking of the Ludgate boot—a chunky style dating back to 1909 from the Florsheim archives—only enhanced the typically skewed nature of the collection.
That skewed quality has been obvious from day one in Cox and Silver's strange allegiance to Barbra Streisand, whom they like to reference in their show titles. Here, it was Duckie People. Let's indulge them for one mad moment. People who need—and can find—Duckie Brown are the luckiest people in the world.
