A scrappy newcomer no more, Billy Reid delivered his most polished and heartfelt collection to date, finding new clarity after sitting out a season. His show’s intimate setting—akin to a modern-day speakeasy deep in the new Beekman Hotel, where guests huddled around small tables and swilled a sweet whiskey concoction—served as the CFDA-sanctioned kickoff to the Fall men’s collections. And it could hardly have been a better fit.
But first, backstory. Every year Billy Reid, embodying every bit of his well-groomed Southern hospitality, hosts his Shindig festival of music, food, and fashion down in Florence, Alabama. He dutifully ensures that his most loyal customers, the key staff of his 13 stores and counting, and his ever-widening tribe of pals—famous and not—are there in the flesh and having a bang-up time. This journo, having gone to Shindig last year, fondly remembers the folk concerts, lake parties, endless cookouts, and all-around good vibes.
That’s the spirit of down-home bonhomie with which Reid staged his mostly men’s runway show, set to a live acoustic arrangement. As models (all friends of his) strode out, a handful of performers did their thing: Blues musician and cool cat Cedric Burnside opened the show with a mellow hi-hat solo; model and singer-songwriter Karen Elson strummed a ditty from her new album; and Tony Award–winning actor Alex Sharp burst into spoken word halfway through, delivering lines of poetry by Frank O’Hara. The late poet is loosely associated with the Beat Generation, which Reid has found deeply inspirational since seeing a Centre Pompidou exhibition about the uniquely American movement last year. He was particularly moved by “the sense of community exhibited by those poets and artists, each bringing a unique talent to the table.” He paused to contemplate. “They were basically city boys who explored the country.”
While “country” still factors into Reid’s clothes, with their relaxed charm and rolled-up elegance, he’s been streamlining and distilling the aesthetic recently, in the reductive style of those Beat poets. “Everything is lighter now, lighter in weight and lighter in style,” he said, “almost to the point of a sack suit.” Meaning frivolous embellishments have been stripped away in what appears to be a total stylistic revamp. He’s ditched all remaining fuss and kitsch that may otherwise distract from the crisp glamour of a laser-cut leather duster on her or a shearling peacoat on him. Or how about a tobacco-hued cotton trench, tucked-in silk jacquard sweaters, and camel cashmere pants? Reid also introduced his first optical foray, a collaboration with eyewear startup Eponym. The Beats were nothing without their shades.
