The light that shone through the tulle dresses at the Rick Owens
show brought a whimsical airiness to the vision of a designer better known for cultish figures stomping in hefty shoes.
There was still that heavy footwear – clogs with mammal claws, that were a cross between the historic Dutch kind and a sci-fi futuristic version.
But the clothes were as light as the proverbial feather, and in colours like seaweed and mossy ginger. The models’ loose hair seemed almost fairylike – the most unlikely word to associate with Owens.
“I thought, what is the most perverse thing I could do? Something light and fragile like tulle,” said Rick. “Then, how do I make that architectural, modern and Brutalist?”
The designer did just that with A-line dresses, some deliberately transparent, others worn in layers, maybe with a bunching of fabric at the side of a hemline. Occasionally the material had more body and stood up around the shoulders and neck.
Can it be only a year since the extraordinary sight of American sorority sisters ‘stepping’ on the Paris runway, their fierce movements showing off hefty gladiator leather and toga dresses?
This show was the diametric opposite in its fragility and gentleness. The music from Polish composer Wojciech Kilar, who died last year, was soft but haunting.
But this being Rick Owens, there was one weird touch: snakes embroidered on the tulle, ready to hiss at this incarnation of the designer’s fragile new woman.