Okay, its settled. When the shows rap up in Paris, I will dedicate several posts to this feeling of disappointment and vicarious embarrassment. Disappointment is nothing new to fashion followers, students, designers, sellers, or buyers. We funnel it into catty repartee. Disappointment pays bills for critics ( though not the blogging sort usually). However, when someone like Raf Simons shows you an unremarkable suit paired with a hideous sneaker something is fucked up. There is no amount of cynicism that can compete with the jarring images of these clothes. You feel the pinch.
I was going to share an elaborate illustration involving a suffocated kitten, then I thought perhaps a more apt description would point towards the haphazardness of the collection, but I think I'll save my energy and vitriol.
The sleeves are the only thing that carries visual impact and for the most part they didn't work as tacked on features. Much more salient was the two tone concept. Even in neon it looked clean and smart in a conventional slim sleeve but it was overpowering in the voluminous versions.
No comparison between this and that.