Let’s begin at the end of this most alluring Yohji Yamamoto collection, as the five women who appeared together veiled in black made for the show’s most curious and/or provocative statement. But if anyone’s mind went straight to the political—especially given this week’s scandal in France, when a sporting goods chain began offering a running hijab—the designer’s reference point was actually historical. Specifically, as a little Googling confirmed, women known as tampada limeña from 17th-century Spain who shrouded all but their left eye in black to entice men. Sure enough, one of these present-day runway coquettes pulled back her sheath, revealing it to be a skirt layer of a frontier-style dress.
For a designer who is constantly exploring seduction—though rarely in ways most of us recognize—this was a fitting finale to yet another permutation from Yamamoto’s darkly poetic playbook. It reinforced just how easily the layers of fabric within so many of his looks can be shifted around, repositioned, and adapted at will.
This was a lineup defined largely by its vertical thrust, from the beautiful column-like fluted pleating extending down coats to the long, slim sleeves and stand-alone upward collars. There was tufting and tacking, wrapping and tearing, draping and cape-ing—most of it controlled enough to wear. In some instances, there was colorful hand-painting—including Fauvist-style shapes across a ballooning back—that initially suggested a less somber outing than previous seasons.
Yet amid the sculpted fabric hands that sprung from a few different looks, there was an unambiguous sign that Yamamoto’s roguish side has not gone soft: one was giving the middle finger, front and center. For while Yamamoto has stayed true to himself, resisting the tidal forces of fashion, he’s now 75 and confronting the inevitability that he will not be designing forever. “I feel so lonely and struggling in Paris mode,” he said, using the French word for fashion. “I’m losing so many competitors.” He was, of course, referring to fellow masters (and friends) Azzedine Alaïa and Karl Lagerfeld. Which is why, rather than an expression of mourning, he wants to reassure us that this collection signaled a renewed spirit, an f-you to endings: “I was enjoying; I became like a young girl, and making clothing was deep fun—not like some great master of fashion.”