If Alexander McQueen's Fall collection had an elegantly dying autumn in mind for Sarah Burton, she was thinking of Resort as "romance, beauty, positivity, flowers blooming." Sweet pea, hollyhocks, violets, butterflies flying around a garden in springtime…all of that was stitched onto extraordinary tulle evening dresses, sheaths of fragility.
The same idea was communicated in disheveled lace pieces, like something found in a trunk or an attic. The obvious reference was one of Lee McQueen's finest moments, the dance marathon collection from Spring 2004, which played into Burton's own feeling right now for "anti-fast fashion," something that is more permanent rather than seasonal. That's why there was what she called "a make-do and mend" mood. It was spectacularly realized in biker jackets patched with tweed, or the sleeves and body of an old Victorian jacket cut out of leather and cross-stitched like a sampler. That marriage of structured past and loosey-goosey present was quintessential McQueen.
Burton was loving the notion of heirloom pieces, of making things precious by giving them heritage. So there was a dress studded with jewels that looked like old brooches, and a necklace that was made up of charms—memories collected. The knuckle-duster handles on clutch bags were reconfigured as antique rings, and belt buckles might have been sourced in vintage shops.
And then there was that nipped-waist, flared-skirt, '40s silhouette that is classic McQueen, pleated here for maximum swing. The designer showed it with raffia brothel creepers, so the look was firmly grounded. But is that ever the case with this house? Burton dreams, and we dream right along with her.
