Backstage at Moschino’s combined Fall menswear and Pre-Fall womenswear show, Jeremy Scott was exasperated. Not because the collection was bad—it wasn’t—nor because of any in-the-moment snafus. No. He was, and will remain, mad as hell about our “global situation”—as he sees it, a Trump-tarred reality—and it was crystal clear in his temperament and on his runway. “My country is in the toilet. And when my country is in the toilet, the world is in the toilet,” he stated. “We have to fight for everything we believe in. That’s the expression I wanted to use.”
Galvanized, this was a strong outing from Scott. Think: far less of the slapsticky and the camp, far more of the barbed, and prickling at times with oily black humor. It reminded this writer of an old Moschino ad from 1993. The promo depicted a quadrant of visuals, one of which was a fresco painting overlaid with the words No to violence! Similar frescoes reappeared tonight in Milan, including on a fatigue suit and wartime rucksack worn by Jordan Barrett. Elsewhere, the imagery was covered with impassioned brush strokes, comparable in gist to redactions in declassified documents.
That implied the end—or at least, the irreparable damage—of past convention. There were other nods to event horizon, like iridescent “countdown clock” motifs on blazers and overcoats for men, and full ballgown skirts for women. A graphic opening series of Transformers battling in space was also in the mix, though this bit—and another consisting of all-over studded bric-a-brac on lapels and berets, made with help from Judy Blame—were weak points in Scott’s phalanx. The best—and most piercing—pieces he showed tonight were the relatively simplest. See camouflage trousers worn with a multi-colored marabou coat. The look was suggestive, and slyly very much do ask, do tell. Ditto an almost demure noir coat dress. Moschino in mourning? Flak jackets and cargo pants—some with those aforementioned paint swaths, some with a military green rose design—were also forceful.
Regardless of one’s political affiliation, it was exciting to see a version of Scott shed of silliness (okay, excluding the Transformer figures). In a season already rife with strife, this, admittedly, didn’t cut too deep—how deep can Moschino go, really?—but it did reveal a fire to the designer not often seen. Light it up, Jeremy.
