Junichi Abe summarized this women’s lineup as “messy hybrids,” which sounded catchy but didn’t do justice to his efforts. For one thing, the construction of a varsity jacket housed within a Perfecto couldn’t possibly qualify as such; it was flawlessly made. Other exciting patchwork combinations could only have resulted from similarly precise workmanship. Look how seamlessly the cluster of circles extend from a sweaterdress like an abstracted border of lace—no trace of messy anywhere.
But there was some truth to certain looks appearing offhand and random, which the designer explained as a “maybe not too mature” attitude. Probed a little further, Abe admitted that this proved freeing—as though he gave himself permission to be more naive, less deliberate in creation. “It’s sometimes very strange but very inspiring to me,” he said of the way young people dress today. Ample trousers that combined check suiting and chinos felt like a teenager had spent a Saturday reconstructing her dad’s pants in lieu of shopping for new ones. By Sunday, she had studded the collar of her mother’s expensive car coat. On the subject of weekends, the Weeknd messaging in block letters on various tops had no connection with the music artist of the same name and spelling; Abe had never even heard of him.
The strength of this collection was how all Abe’s reimagining and reconstructing pre-empted additional styling. Wear one of the jackets with its bricolage of fake fur, quilting, tweed, and knitwear and you would have all the statement you’d need. Striped socks married to a patent stiletto set atop a ridged rubber sole would meet your daily quota of quirk. And those jeans with the pleated chiffon overskirt were a great expression of boy-girl cool—they can’t arrive in stores soon enough. In the meantime, you could try to re-create them yourself, but chances are they’d turn out messy.
