For a swan song, it was entirely anticlimactic. In January, Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren announced that they would be exiting the ready-to-wear business to focus on haute couture. And they made the decision with such finality that they presented their final collection without any grand good-bye gesture—heck, they were absent altogether. Instead, Jamie Bochert and Linn Arvidsson were photographed in a studio, alternating 23 looks against a dimly lit backdrop of draped gray felt, a house trademark. The press notes pointed out that the models were making their exit—a wry acknowledgement of the moment.
Even accounting for all the cutaway panels and asymmetries, the clothes felt proper and minimally offbeat. Viktor & Rolf have taken their ready-to-wear to some far-off realms—whether in volume or concept; this time, their starting point seemed to be a collection that, when revisited years from now, will prove cringe-free. The material mix felt particularly timeless and true to the brand: crisp white poplin, gilded brocade, and a papery metallic fabric that looked like lustrous felt. Ascribing meaning to the crenellated edges might risk sentimentality; it's not as if the designers are closing down the atelier and packing up the pinking shears. Then again, the trails of fabric, whether or not they could be tacked up or removed completely, seemed an unmistakable metaphor.
But go one layer deeper than the double-faced baby-doll dresses and modulated menswear, and you realized the collection still smacked of nonconformist Viktor & Rolf. Most designers would have taken an opportunity to express their feelings; these two could not have been more detached. So here's to them, for what it's worth.
