The language of Yohji Yamamoto is like none other. It comprises his fashion language built upon dark and poetic draping and deconstruction. It comprises his musical language of wistful electric-guitar improvisations and highly personal lyrics. It comprises his actual language, which is obviously Japanese but has come to include French and English—all delivered with extreme economy of words and drawn-out contemplation. It is a language of multitudes that one longs to understand in its entirety, not in guesswork.
But with each new collection, his language doesn’t become more knowable. For even when a few moments are spent in conversation with the designer backstage, the real takeaway is that this is a language of feeling. And Yamamoto is feeling tired. It’s not the first time he has expressed as much. It’s concerning on an empathetic level, and yet there was nothing about today’s show that betrayed exhaustion and no portion that could be deemed monotonous. Looks were layered with highly considered indifference and were imbued with certain dissident details. Officer coats with atypically imperfect embellishments, unmatched patterns unevenly patchworked, sprays of assorted chains fulfilling no function, and too many berets to ignore all kept the eye in a satisfied state of stimulation. Inexplicable swaths of printed silk floating alongside a few silhouettes were demonstrably soothing. Certainly a coat adorned with Naughty Yohji in dimensional lettering does not give the impression of a designer pulling back.
If anything, his idea to develop these figures as “Partisans” sends the message that he remains a true nonconformist. “I used to explain my spirit as anti-trend, anti-fashion. I kept saying I’m an outsider. Now the vocabulary is not enough. And I’m angry about what’s going on in fashion, so I have become partisan.” It’s a word that people today assume is political. “Or dangerous,” Yamamoto offered.
Given, however, that his language has never been aggressive, the biggest threat he poses might simply be that he reaches new relevance over and over again without any propping up from the industry’s behemoths. The designer is now 76; just imagine every designer today under 40 suddenly deciding to operate in a similar manner. Whether dressed in veritably humble togs or a high-end fraying sweater that gives the verisimilitude of humbleness, a partisan remains engaged. But does Yamamoto still want to be doing this? “I’m putting the same question to myself every day,” he revealed, adding that the answer eludes him. “No answer is terrible.” Or the saving grace for all those who hope he continues designing—and sharing his language with us—for as long as possible.
