Menswear has passed through such an accelerated period of change and growth that it’s hard to remember when newly minted terms like “gender-fluid,” “gender-neutral,” and “gender non-binary” became normalized fashion currency. A chunk of the credit—for the fact that, these days, it causes no sensation to see clothes that work on all genders—goes to Jonathan Anderson. That’s what he demonstrated in today’s show, which was designated menswear, and also included his womenswear Resort drop. But shape-sharing is nothing new for him.
Anderson was seemingly the first of his generation to traverse gendered-clothing boundaries when he put boys in frilled, neoprene shorts and bustiers in 2012. A whole questioning, creative queer culture has grown up in London men’s fashion since. A marker of progress is that interest has moved on to discussing the distinctive quality of the clothes each designer has to offer, rather than who’s wearing them—as it was with both Charles Jeffrey Loverboy and Art School at the recent London menswear shows.
So with JW Anderson. We know about his qualities: his belief in elevating craft, his experimental knitwear, the way he will transfer and apply silhouettes across women’s and menswear. He said this collection was “not about a styling exercise, but a design exercise.” Part of it was working on cutting away the sleeves of trench coats and tailored jackets to construct geometric wings and leave a drape in the back. He said he’d developed that silhouette after the “ideas about the ’40s and billowing shapes” that he’d shown in his womenswear collection. The thematic deconstruction of the framework of tuxedo dressing continued into lapel scarves and dress shirts with pique bibs. There’s no gendered distinction here. “All sizes can wear that,” he said.
“Craft goes machine” was a phrase he also dropped into the conversation. It’s a tagline he used right at the beginning of his career, when he was already obsessed with handmade techniques, highlighting the nostalgia for the human touch that had gone missing in the era of globalization and fast fashion. In this collection, he made the connection with “hand-knitty, do-it-yourself kits, which kind of look like they’ve been passed down.” The slashed effects came from a memory of his teenage sister Chloe, at home in Northern Ireland, working up shredded T-shirts and threading them with plastic beads. “But the raw edges have been taken away.”
Anderson’s talent for elevating craft has become ever-more relevant. It’s the key to the success he’s brought to the LVMH-owned label Loewe, where he is creative director. In his own collection, where it originated, it more than held its own.
