Everyone knows that New York Fashion Week is bad, or at least that's the consensus amongst the editors I not-so-subtly gossiped with during and after the shows. [REDACTED] is unserious, [REDACTED] isn't [REDACTED]-y enough, and CFDA favorite [REDACTED] is struggling to balance his vision of reimagined American basics with the imperative to sell clothes. These are all overly pessimistic viewpoints, reserved for those with the most access to, and influence over, the success of fashion shows. But in an era when even vintage clothing has become a tired trope thanks to TikTok trends, it's hard to feel excited about new collections, particularly when there are so many remarkably bad ones. Of course, it's easy to pretend something is good when it isn't, especially when you're the one writing the reviews. But after listening to a group of powerful Women In Fashion complain about the looks at one particularly ostentatious show, I couldn't help but wonder why we were all there in the first place.
There are, in fact, outliers, designers that demonstrate an actual Point of View on the runway while still managing to produce desirable clothes. These shows often become viral content, like the plethora of videos positively reviewing Galliano's recent Maison Margiela couture extravaganza. Yet this kind of attention, and where it's directed, is often confusing for the designers trying to emulate it. At newcomer [REDACTED], sequin-clad models seductively floated down a poorly lit runway doused in scented fog, while at Thom Browne, they dragged their heels (like the models at Margiela's lauded couture show) through fake snow. Yet only Browne managed to pull off the performance. Runway theatrics do not equate to strong collections, and while most of us appreciate a show, it's hard to justify poetics when one can hardly see the clothes.
I don't mean to compare small designers to moneyed corporations, but it doesn't necessarily take a big budget to make a splash. In fact, one of my favorite shows this season was an off-calendar event put on by Women's History Museum, an art-cum-fashion collective whose campy, vintage-inspired athleisure marked their first concerted effort to tap into ready-to-wear. Others, like LaQuan Smith, managed to create a fantasy without doing anything particularly novel at all. Instead, Alexander McQueen-inspired tailoring and deliciously slinky dresses contrasted with fur briefcases and pinstripe sets that transported the audience onto the set of a Hollywood heist. Meanwhile, at Sandy Liang, a sea of bow-adorned showgoers set the scene for a collection of casual princesswear, a departure from the brand's fluffier looks that read as a maturation rather than a reimagining.
The most pointed stunts, however, came in the form of protests, like when a PETA infiltrator almost pushed me onto a runway while I was stuck in the standing section of [REDACTED]. This sent me into a spiral, not necessarily because of the animals, or the fact that my vintage fur-clad body had tragically become part of the show, but because it reminded me that there are a lot more significant things happening outside of the world of fashion. These feelings were compounded when I heard about the [REDACTED] presentation, which was billed as a salon to celebrate the so-called complexities of the notoriously racist novel Gone With the Wind. As if there wasn't currently a war in the Middle East that could offer the designer a far more topical platform from which to present herself as a provocateur. Politics aside, at the very least, it may have inspired a more relevant conversation.
The biggest show landed on the eve of the final day of fashion week, when Raul Lopez of Luar dragged a congregation of whiney editors to Ridgewood to witness "Metrosexual," his provocative fall winter 2024 show. There, in the plastic panel lined basement adorned with rubber sculptures and phallic lighting designed by Rich Aybar, Beyoncé, Solange, and Tina Knowles shimmied through a crowd of photographers into their seats in the front row. Never mind the seductive cocoon cardigan, feather leggings, and the outsized wool dress best described as a sexy sci-fi rendition on Dior's New Look, as soon as Bey arrived decked out in sequins and a holographic Ana bag, we knew exactly why we had come.