Dear Shaded Viewers and Diane,
Some have wondered if Craig Green may be playing it safe, but couldn’t it be instead that LCM has spoiled us for novelty a bit? No more than a handful of seasons ago, when a conversational tie was all the colour you’d expect to find in men’s wardrobes, to dip entire outfits in vivid, matte shades of orange or yellow would have been considered brave at best, reckless even. True, the styles are familiar, but Craig – whose solo debut lest we forget, was just last spring – is a perfectionist: the subtle updates to his silhouettes might not be the first thing you notice on the catwalk but reveal themselves clearly at a closer look. Take the flat, square, zipped pocket on the front of his quilted samurai looks, or the padded side panels now reaching down to the trousers’ hem. The breastbone hole in his winter knits resettles on lighter sheets, black, white or red, carried up high on banners, with a slit at eyelevel from which to see through – a showpiece perhaps, but also the simplest and most effective representation on cloth of the equilibrium between exposure and defence that the designer’s work revolves around. The modules of his aesthetic are not to be intended as seasonal trends, but here to stay, and the fact that they became instantly recognizable, while not drawing upon visible logos or branding, is testimony to Craig Green’s craft. Like the seams on his knitwear that part slightly at the waist and wrist, the swinging ribbons always left afloat give the impression of a process almost unfinished, with the possibility to be tied at will. Indeed, the delicate but tightly wrapped shirting may as well evoke some kind of sexless, kinbaku practice. Or rather, unisex – because this time, to the delight of the ladies in the audience, girls were seen on the runway modelling the exact same garments that boys did. But the playfulness of the season was not confined to its colour palette, Craig did train with Walter Van Beirendonck after all. There were nipple knots and two round gaps on the knits’ chest from which long slim scarves worn underneath came around again. And yet what elsewhere could appear as a bit of a comic relief, still retained its own brand of poetry at a Craig Green’s show – due perhaps to the violins in the soundtrack, but most likely to the impeccable execution of each and every detail.
Later,
Silvia
