You don’t walk into the courtyard of a German cultural institute expecting ephebes in swim briefs, perched on giant dice, laughing among themselves. At the Goethe-Institut, Josef Lazo and Andreas Schmidl staged their collection as a summer afternoon that refuses to end. Hard to say whether the briefs or the boys were the main attraction, which is exactly how this House likes it. Everyone studied the clothes very seriously, in between glances at what wasn’t covering much.
Under the play sits real work. A swim brief only looks this easy once it has been cut to fit without a wrinkle. Florals are layered one against another on a single shirt, patches of different blooms joined until they read as one. A weightless jersey is set beside a thick towelling robe and somehow the two agree. The faded jeans ride low, left undone at the waist.
Some lounged across chairs, others sat on the ground, one rested his head on a friend’s shoulder, all of it slow and unforced. Nothing here strained to provoke. The sensuality was the warm kind, pleased with itself, more interested in pleasure than in shock. Lazoschmidl has long made the case for a softer masculinity, freed from the armour of the suit and the stiffness that comes with it, and in this courtyard it proved the point. A man could be tender, half-dressed, openly looked at, and entirely at ease.
The whole thing was built for the hours we rarely dress for, the slow morning, the errand to the corner shop, the evening that drifts on longer than planned. Underwear stops hiding and steps outside. You answer the door half ready, you cross the street in next to nothing, and the intimate turns into a way of being seen. Get (un)dressed, go out, stay in, and let body and clothes revel in each other.
