Shipwrecked. That was Karen Walker’s overarching theme this season, the one into which she tucked a handful of her typically idiosyncratic references. Rimbaud and John Lydon, stranded together on a tropical island—as usual with Walker, the idea made zero sense, until you gave her collection a bit more consideration, at which point it made perfect sense. Haven’t rebels and renegades been feeling a bit marooned of late? Isn’t it tempting to imagine that the dream of another, better, more beautiful world could be nurtured in some offshore utopia?
That’s a romantic notion, but Walker gave it some gravitas by means of utilitarian silhouettes. Her key trouser this season was a baggy pant that she turned out in various fabrics—natty Prince of Wales check, punkish plaid laced with gold thread, a hammered satin-like material. And her dresses were similarly no fuss, offered in a variety of lank or blouson shapes. The romance was to be discovered in Walker’s touches of frill and distaff gestures like rough gathers, unexpected asymmetries, and unraveling hems and fringe, all of which got at the idea of civilized looks gone a bit feral. The most eye-catching pieces here, meanwhile, were the ones done in painted landscape prints. A head-to-toe ensemble conjuring a tropical vista seemed to say: If you can’t come to utopia, utopia will come to you. You just have to wear your dreams on your sleeve.