Corporate Motherfuckers read the Yamamoto-Sharpied slogan on the back of a cotton baseball ring-neck shirt. Then, The only woman I know is my mother, and Help me I’m too hot. What did it all mean? Well, statements two and three were references to the overstuffed silhouettes that inhabited the first, long, section of looks—swathed at the neck by black, padded, blanketlike scarves and outfitted below in long padded fishtail parkas, they were topped with ringer tees and rib-jerseys that were just too tight. Innerwear as outerwear that created fabric muffin tops. WhaFa? “It’s a kind of joke,” said Yamamoto afterward. “The kid shouts, ‘Mother it’s cold! It’s cold!’ So she puts everything on. And at the last moment she puts a T-shirt over it, too.” Perhaps only Yamamoto could dedicate so much to such a quixotic thought.
The muffin section was crumbled by two color-tinted Fedora-wearing strutters in padded tank tops. Later, outside Van Noten, one in-a-fluster retail-biz Yamamoto veteran said, “I’ve been going to that show for years and I’ve never seen flesh like that—it was almost shocking.” It receded into bondage-strapped variations of Yamamoto’s exquisitely draped bohemian, before returning to tight-tee land. The soundtrack included dialogue samples from Stand By Me. Explain? “My theme is Stand By Me,” said YY. “Because the world is such a mess. So we Stand By Me. This is the scream of teenagers. I feel like all the world, breaking down.” Which explains statement one. This was an excellent and elusive Yamamoto collection, half-protest, half-inquest.