Held in the satisfyingly louche 1898-built revue bar La Nouvelle Eve in the foothills of Montmartre, this Andreas Kronthaler for Vivienne Westwood show attracted the usual woozy constituency of house faithful and featured a surprise front-row cameo from Rick Owens and Tyrone Dylan Susman. On the way in, Owens explained: “There’s a Vivienne Westwood show on today, and Tyrone and I were thinking, ‘Where should we go?’” After the smoky celluloid tearjerker Owens gave us the other night, he deserved this busman’s holiday.
Westwood’s right hand, and hand in marriage, Kronthaler delivered a bracingly engaging collection that was loaded with character, theater, and harpsichord-heavy lounge tunes. A tightly packed terrine of art references, archival gestures, and possibly new departures—those great ringed boots looked fresh to me, but unless you are an Encyclopedia Westwood you can never be sure—it was an entertaining and family-feeling affair. Kronthaler said in his discursive notes that he’d wanted to pay tribute to the world of theater, plus express lightness, and also had worked “to find the muse in me.” One distinctly Andreas touch was the angular gentleman in the severe checked loden-cut coat—so too were the handsome boys in silky ruched dresses. Staying away from theater criticism—although Lindsey Wixson was my nominee for best actor—once you got into the rhythm of nomadic troubadour multiethnic–art printed variousness, there were a few recurring themes in clothing to note.
Caped hoodies and ruche-backed tracksuits provoked the jotting “medieval athleisure.” Crystal-fringed, ’70s-style silver sports shorts and vaguely Buddhist monkish sneaker socks were the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of the show—recurring characters whose minor roles belied their greater impact. A corseted strumpet dress and track pants decorated in a rough-edged harlequin diamond pattern seemed to require curly-toed velvet slippers as costars.
Westwood herself was hauled onstage as the curtain drew back and Kronthaler’s cast took in the lengthy applause. Flowers were thrown and bouquets exchanged. Then, Westwood did some hauling of her own, pulling granddaughter Cora Corré out of the crowd. This was a boisterous performance by troupe Westwood, led with anarchic panache by Kronthaler. Bravo.
