"dirty habits, that's what my clothing is all about. " "you don't have to worry about messing it up yourself – I mess it up for you." _ Rick Owens
Dear Shaded Viewers,
Yesterday morning Rick Owens' monumental volume, designed by Rick himself and edited by Rizzoli New York, came to Headquarters in all its shameless, appropriate, well-deserved size, immediately taking our breaths away with its steady alluring glory.
The anthology follows at the same time the stretched chronological order of memories and a designer trained, accurate sensitivity; guiding us through dusty, dappled, intensely dark photographs from his native and seedy LA to the delivery of two elephant skulls at his latest Parisian address. It features correspondence and conversations with renowned bright minds, mildly obscene material and its massive wax mould, quiet places and empty spaces and blurred movements of backstage racing hearts, Kembra Pfahler, Wanda The Man and Mistress Antoinette, and the distinctive wit and honest care of the man behind and all those beautiful seasons before him.
Treasuring his Californian roots, Rick Owens harmonizes in his designs American blunt pragmatism and European restrained romance, managing to refine the former and unclench the latter to dress his timeless, familiar, elongated silhouettes in crafted capes and furs, overcoats and frocks, discreet resoluteness and elusive dignity.
An almost holy, stubborn abstinence defines his muted palette, enhancing the perfection of draperies and sharp angles in Rick Owens' collections since 1994, and spreading now to his rising furniture line. (
