It’s quite challenging to review some clothes, good as they are, when you’re transfixed by a paragon of cymbal-clashing, life-affirming, rhythm-begetting, totally free gorgeousness. Sadly (not really!), that task today fell to me.
Sébastien Meunier, in all his feather-strewn naïveté, recruited the band Warhaus, of which he is a fan, to play at this relocated (thank God), changed-up (thank Him or Her again) Demeulemeester show. Warhaus—of which I shamefully had not a previous inkling—drifted up to play. And, jeez, they were good. Especially Sylvie Kreusch, in Meunier-fashioned thigh-highs and a long white T-shirt and black silky overshirt, moving like a spring tide–affected swell.
For the collection, we had reverted to menswear’s Robert Mapplethorpe x Patti Smith dialectic. Really, though, it was just feathered Gothic semi-stripped lush existentialism à la Meunier. We glimpsed disassembled suiting. Crooned to feathered headdresses. Sung along to stenciled messages that reflected the creative potential, if not the naivety, of the designer’s muse. If you are into this, you’ll be pleased, and may have ordered it already. If not, look up Warhaus and revel in Kreusch’s fireworks.
