A spectral, slow-moving procession of milky-eyed, glam zombies filed toward a ritual ring of salt at the end of the Art School show. “The idea was that they were queer deities, archangels, witches,” said designer Eden Loweth. “We always want to present our models as if they are Naomi Campbell, but this season we wanted to echelon them even higher. This season we cast more transpeople than ever before, and we wanted to show each one, give them a voice.”
Loweth and codesigner Tom Barratt said they meant to “cut through the performance” this time, but they still managed to stir up theatrical sensations of otherworldly angst using minimal devices. Barratt, who walked—or rather, deliberately staggered—in kitten heels and a strapless dress, is a member the PlayStation generation who formed an affectionate fascination for plunging through Silent Hill, the Japanese horror game launched in the 2000s. “I think Silent Hill speaks a lot to the world today,” said Barratt. “For queer people it can often be a battle and scary, mentally intense and almost dystopian.”
Thus, the repulsion of the pupil-less contact lenses, the instructions to participants to slow down the pace, and the fact that Loweth’s childhood singer-songwriter idol, Anna Calvi, was playing her guitar live at the end of the runway, standing in the ritualistic circle of salt.
For all the creepsome emotional atmosphere, the staging was also a deliberately courageous act to cut out frenetic action and slow it down so that critical audience gaze had to linger on every individual and their look—the long silver shimmery coin-pailletted gowns, the button-through “nurse” dresses, the tight leopard-spotted painted leather cocktail minis, and the cut of the brown Lurex tailoring. It paid off: The collection was very together, well-edited, and as punctuated with tailoring (like sober jackets minimally knife-slashed in the back) as it was with sparkly party gowns.
Loweth and Barratt are a highly responsible pair who nurture and represent the nonbinary community of all ages and shapes in London through the public space of fashion shows. “We are voices for this community—that was bestowed on us; we didn’t seek it,” said Barratt. “But this is our work. We don’t constantly tweet about it—we’re too busy making.” Simultaneously, the designers also have a responsibility to each other and their employees to show they can improve their fabrics, quality, and focus of their collection, and that they are seriously motivated to be a credible fashion-making company rather than creators of costumes and performance organizers.
Nevertheless, their expertise in fitting trans bodies is a market opportunity in itself, Loweth says, picking out the example of bustier tops “which are cut on the bias, so a trans body can be comfortable.” The designers have also worked out grading systems in which an identical dress can be cut to fit a man or a woman—or whatever the customer identifies with in between.
