More from the American Pillars of fashion, here: Michael Kors, Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein.
The party comes after the show, or so they say, unless you’re Marc Jacobs — where the party is the show.
Last night, the energy that filled a room that forward-faced a huge white lacquer circle felt kind of exhausted, kind of delighted. It is so rare to leave the Marc Jacobs venue without feeling newly invigorated. Part of that is because you know you’ll never see the same thing twice — but even through that, you’ll recognize stuff; big painted buttons will come up, indigenous silhouettes that might harken back to archive pieces in your own closet will surface.
And if last season was a cerebral albeit ebulliently wacky homage to this country, this season — much darker, still wacky, was far more granular.
When you look at the above pictures, you see goth, right? A call to St. Mark’s place. Huge dusters, platforms that are probably near-impossible to walk in. Huge coats and skirts and sweatpants and crochet knit details that honest to blog make you wonder what spending time inside Marc Jacob’s head must feel like.
But beyond all of that literal stuff, there’s more. That’s the thing about Marc: Like with many of the collections that you see in Paris, the clothes are the conversation starter — an early talking point, the entry gates into a discussion, communication, or even round table about something else.
And last night? Last night I saw a celebration of the industry. The goth movement, a subculture that emerged in the 80s, derived some of its inspiration from the anti-establishmentarianism of punk. Of outsiders at large who refused to, by sheer virtue of their self-honesty, force themselves into the archetypical boxes already being served by culture. So they made their own by not making any at all and in doing that, generated a new movement.
What you find in fashion is an industry of people who were different. Misunderstood. Who never quite got to feel comfortable because their values didn’t run parallel to the people around them — to anyone, really. A group of outsiders desperate to understand what the inside felt and looked like. But then they found each other and built upon one another and shared inspiration and opinion and so it happened that thousands of people, whether actually present or not, emerged from a room at 6:15 last night to sing the song of acceptance.
We are all Marc Jacobs’ goth.
Photographs via Vogue Runway; collage by Elizabeth Tamkin.