In 2001 two young students, one Canadian, one Swiss, became fellow tenants of a shared Florence apartment. Something flowered. Tonight, Luke and Lucie Meier returned to the city to show the professional fruit of their creative union: Jil Sander.
Since its adoption by the Meiers in 2017, Sander has effectively reclaimed its core identity—tailored minimalism—and here in the ancient refectory of Santa Maria Novella, the couple served a collection concocted to meet the tastes of the label’s faithful devotees. There were lots of high-volume suiting and outerwear in stark colorways and luxurious materials, with certain details planed away (revers, pocket flaps) and others emphasized (turn-ups, bicolor epaulettes). Chunky molded-sole leather shoes were the pediment.
During their time together, the Meiers have also nurtured a sophisticated system practice that reflects their own studiedly ascetic aesthetic. Their design, like their manner, is at first sight undemonstrative to the point of seeming withdrawn but this is something they, and their audience, appear to like: Their clothes challenge you to dig for detail and excavate your own conclusions.
Personally, mine were totally wrong. I pretty confidently surmised during the show that the three huge heaps of marigolds, the mirrored pearlescent beading, the beaten silver necklaces, and the woven, fringed panels applied to color-drained Shetland knitwear, plus the mention in the wan press release of “echoes of traditional Western and Eastern handicraft,” amounted to a Sander-isedly dyspeptic “echo” of Indian craft. “No,” said Luke of this theory when asked, before generously adding: “but I like that, I like that idea, although it was not intended to be that.”
This reviewing game is all about sleuthing for an encapsulating narrative message that summates a collection and that isn’t utter phooey. So perhaps more on the money—starting again with the marigold clue—was nearby; in the complex of the Santa Maria Novella stands an ancient pharmacy dating back to the 13th century in which balms and salves have been concocted from calendula for generations. This created a connection to the fine silk tassels—confession box Catholic, but here mostly in monochrome—that sparked thoughts of local historical attire, as did a carefully roughened white habit/throw that passed us late in the collection.
But scrap all that, because maybe the true source of the reference doesn’t matter. Another approach is that the inscrutability of this collection—and the Meiers’ method more broadly—is key to its appeal. These were clothes that didn’t provide answers, but prompted questions. Lucie spoke of wanting to make garments with lifetime appeal—“cherishable clothes”—and what could be more cherishable than a life partner that is never completely understood?
