Day two is over and I’ve got that Blur song in my head. No, the other Blur song. You know: “girls who like boys who like boys who like girls…”
That’s because London boyswear darling J.W. Anderson is doing girlswear now, and London girlswear darling Jonathan Saunders just debuted boyswear. It’s all very confusing and probably illegal in Arizona.
First up: Mr. J.W. Anderson. I snuck a glimpse at his presentation in the beautiful, balconied Portico Rooms at Somerset House, after taking one look at the never-ending line for ISSA London. That’s what happens when Kate Middleton wears your dress when she gets engaged…
Jonathan Anderson is a proper East Londoner with a prep’s tailoring skills and a punk sensibility that never comes off as contrived. The guys here love him. And girls everywhere? Just wait. The collection, shown on tomboys and teddy boys alike, screams “collegiate forever.” It handily mixes up the dandy tailoring of the ‘60s with the mohair and Doc Martens of the ‘90s and the inventive colour and material mash-ups of the now. You think you won’t, but you will want to wear pleats over pants come fall.
Jonathan Saunders, a perennial fave of Vogue and such, needs less exposition. His clothes are easy to like because they’re so easy to wear: clean lines, great colours, and minimal, athletic influences. I’ve never found as much to love as tonight though, when he debuted a few good mens looks to go with the utterly gorgeous womens collection.
I don’t say “gorgeous” lightly. Gone were Saunders’ typical little pleated skirts, replaced by wriggly calf-length ones, banded at the waist with thick velvet. There was velvet, too, on the cut-out-wedge mary jane Louboutins. Blouses were silken and collared. There were geometric and floral prints applied all over or in blocks. (Is printblocking the new colourblocking?) And such colours: persimmon and rust red, frond green and peacock teal. It felt like a slow dance in the ballroom of a colonial hotel, deep in some cloistered tropics.
As for that menswear, it was plucked like a rib from this womanly body of work, as if roles had been reversed in the Garden of Eden (If only). Favourite: the mismatched printed sweater sets. They’re for guys who aren’t afraid to be bright. It looked like the start of a beautiful, gender bending, friendship.
That’s because London boyswear darling J.W. Anderson is doing girlswear now, and London girlswear darling Jonathan Saunders just debuted boyswear. It’s all very confusing and probably illegal in Arizona.
First up: Mr. J.W. Anderson. I snuck a glimpse at his presentation in the beautiful, balconied Portico Rooms at Somerset House, after taking one look at the never-ending line for ISSA London. That’s what happens when Kate Middleton wears your dress when she gets engaged…
Jonathan Anderson is a proper East Londoner with a prep’s tailoring skills and a punk sensibility that never comes off as contrived. The guys here love him. And girls everywhere? Just wait. The collection, shown on tomboys and teddy boys alike, screams “collegiate forever.” It handily mixes up the dandy tailoring of the ‘60s with the mohair and Doc Martens of the ‘90s and the inventive colour and material mash-ups of the now. You think you won’t, but you will want to wear pleats over pants come fall.
Jonathan Saunders, a perennial fave of Vogue and such, needs less exposition. His clothes are easy to like because they’re so easy to wear: clean lines, great colours, and minimal, athletic influences. I’ve never found as much to love as tonight though, when he debuted a few good mens looks to go with the utterly gorgeous womens collection.
I don’t say “gorgeous” lightly. Gone were Saunders’ typical little pleated skirts, replaced by wriggly calf-length ones, banded at the waist with thick velvet. There was velvet, too, on the cut-out-wedge mary jane Louboutins. Blouses were silken and collared. There were geometric and floral prints applied all over or in blocks. (Is printblocking the new colourblocking?) And such colours: persimmon and rust red, frond green and peacock teal. It felt like a slow dance in the ballroom of a colonial hotel, deep in some cloistered tropics.
As for that menswear, it was plucked like a rib from this womanly body of work, as if roles had been reversed in the Garden of Eden (If only). Favourite: the mismatched printed sweater sets. They’re for guys who aren’t afraid to be bright. It looked like the start of a beautiful, gender bending, friendship.
