There’s something endless-slay engaging about a bit of drama at a fashion show. I’m not talking about clashes between activists and designers (those, frankly, leave me feeling conflicted in the tender heart of my inner teenage punk), nor celebrity spats over who’s been seated in the front row. Actually, I’m talking lighting, sound, story, dramaturgy on the catwalk.
Specifically, I’m thinking about how these elements can carve out images of what the future might look like and embed them unequivocally in the now.
Refer to the Spring/Summer 19 RTW shows. Take, for example, that of Balenciaga – a vivid rendering of cinematic futurism in 360 degree high fidelity. How about Givenchy’s more restrained, moodier vision of a neo-retro-future? Or perhaps Loewe’s earthy take on the vibe?
What about Courrèges’ lighter riff on the theme, going by way of office casual? And, seriously, don’t even get me started on Rick Owens’ typically stately, sculptural interpretation, masterfully marrying the new futurism to a medieval throwback aesthetic (I die).
I spy a trend that touches the deeper recesses of my imagination, a rarity these days. The future is now, and it’s not Blade Runner or The Fifth Element. It’s our reality, and it has officially landed.
I have to ask, though… where’s my hoverboard?