Ten Looks: Maison Margiela
There’s something rather 1970s about this. Something quite lounge bar, or just bar on the wrong side of the tracks. It’s not sleazy, but there’s something a little “corrupt officer of the law” to the Maison Margiela collection. Maybe it’s the leather trench coat in petrol blue, or the shirts worn almost carelessly over polo necks, or simply the cuban heels, but there’s a sense of Saturday Night Fever gone wrong. You’re not dancing the night away at a discotheque. It’s not entirely comfortable. It’s warm leatherette. Shiny vinyls, dirty florals, knits shot through with latex, almost matted-looking fuzzy collars, all in range of muted shades, save for a bright moment of primary red or marigold yellow. The colours, the choice of bright highlights, almost cinematic in their tones. It’s Christiane F dancing to David Bowie at Sound, the most modern discotheque in Europe. It’s Bowie during his Berlin years. It’s there in the shape of the wide, pleated trouser, in the billowing shirt, the play with oversized proportions. It’s a little gritty, a little off, it makes you look twice – the way good fashion should. It refocuses the eye.