Dear Shaded Viewers and Diane,
In London’s Freemasons’ Hall on Sunday, Dr. Hogg put the claws back into the catsuit. To the notes of her own cover version of The Velvet Underground’s Venus in Furs, Night Porter-esque dominatrices in shiny shiny boots and undies, black or gold, were walking in clicking their riding crops to the music’s beat. Others wore Pam Hogg’s signature sheer bodysuits with minimal, strategically placed opaque squares, spelling VENUS in capitals and topped at times with matching dressing gowns, trimmed with generous tufts of tulle. They were parallel visions of female sexuality, opposite fantasies easing into one another. The regulation clothing, often one of the brand’s points of reference, was kicked up a notch this season. in addition to the peaked caps came spiked vinyl trenches and flares, harnesses and silver rings and beads. The belt that does await you. But the sweet, sugary side of Pam Hogg’s muse wouldn’t let herself be tamed, either: chewing bubblegum in Barbie pink and blue full skirts fit for the red carpet, pussybow blouses and ribbons in her hair. She’s a woman on a pheromonal metamorphosis that never along the way is any less in charge. The collection’s piece de resistance, what drew the crowd’s wows, would have to be a skintight transparent catsuit gussied up with the titular fur. But my personal favourite from the show, was Dr. Hogg’s foray into a bridal piece – with lace embroideries at the neck and shoulders, breasts and cuffs, gauzy and assertive as one would have to be to walk into church in this.
Photos by Simon Armstrong.
Later,
Silvia
