Dear Shaded Viewers,
In the shadowed enclave of St. Michael’s Church in Shoreditch, a place where the past whispers from every stone, Dilara Findikoglu orchestrated an evening that was less a fashion show and more a siren call from the future. The guests, enveloped in darkness save for the flicker of torches, found themselves not just attendees but participants in a ritual. The message on their seats, a clarion call to dismantle and transcend the toxic structures of conventional masculinity, set the tone for an evening of revelation and revolution.
Findikoglu’s Femme Vortex wasn’t just a collection; it was a manifesto. It was a declaration of independence from the hetero-patriarchal norms that have long dictated not just fashion, but the fabric of society itself. Each of the 37 looks, more a character in this narrative than mere attire, was a testament to the power of the divine feminine. Pat Boguslawski’s choreography added layers of depth, making each model not just a wearer of clothes but a storyteller, embodying the spirit of Findikoglu’s vision with every step.
Hari Nef, opening the show in Female Territory, didn’t just wear a suit; she redefined it. The corporate uniform, long a symbol of masculine power, was usurped—transformed into a battle standard for the femino-heroic narrative. This wasn’t fashion; it was armor, designed not just to adorn but to protect and empower.
The collection danced on the edges of the avant-garde and the accessible, mocking yet mastering the masculine tropes it sought to overturn. Soccer fans and corporate CEOs alike were reimagined, their symbols of power twisted into declarations of a new world order. The promise of a see now, buy now scarf hinted at a bridge between this ethereal world and our own, suggesting that the revolution Findikoglu is championing might soon spill over into the streets.
The queen of the grotesque, as Findikoglu has been dubbed, turned St. Luke Old Street into a cathedral of the future, a place where tragedy and beauty intermingle to create something wholly new. Her models, possessed by the spirits of the characters they portrayed, moved with an otherworldly grace, their contorted walks a visual echo of the show’s underlying message: the old ways are dying, and from their ashes, something new and beautiful will rise.
Later,
Leticia
