If you are an independent insider in the fashion industry you often find yourself thinking that most people working in this field must have memory issues. In a way, this is perfectly understandable: change the schedule of the shows, combine men and womenswear together, but fashion weeks still feature a lot of collections, often presented at inhuman rhythms. It is therefore not that difficult to be at a show in New York, but being temporary unable to instantly remember what happened six months ago (eons in the fashion industry...) on a runway in Paris. This memory loss doesn't allow you to realise you're not seeing something incredibly new, but a mere copy of something old. Except this is not true. Most people do remember (especially consumers...), but the rule in the industry remains shutting up, just in case you lose advertising money. This is the main reason why complete honesty when it comes to comment on Kanye West's Yeezy collections for Adidas Originals is almost impossible.
For what regarded the organisation of the runway that took place during New York Fashion Week, West actually improved his strategy: after making a mess on the lawn in Four Freedoms Park on Roosevelt Island, and organising a ridiculously majestic show at the Madison Square Garden, he resized himself and his ego and went for a darkened studio on Pier 59. He also dropped his collaborator, artist Vanessa Beecroft, maybe understanding that, if you have a strong collection to show (mind you, this is not his case...), you don't need a massive live installation. As a bonus, to avoid pissing off his guests or maybe in an attempt at humbleness (a new concept for him), this time he even started the show relatively on time.
Yet there was a bit of an arty gimmick: models stepped onto a platform backstage and their images were captured with a 360-degree camera that projected them onto the centre of the venue. The audience saw the models only at the very end, when they took a final (traditional) walk, that also allowed the guests to spot Somali-American Halima Aden in her hijab (maybe to reassure his fans that West had definitely stopped endorsing Donald Trump...).
As a whole the look of the clothes was less apocalyptic than in previous collections, verging more towards streetwear: West left behind his risible nude bodysuits that only his wife may want to wear, in favour of '90s stonewash jeans, denim work shirts and workwear jackets, cowboy boots, hoodies and varsity jackets, chenille tops, and full-length fur coats. The head-to-toe military camouflage wear, the oversized parkas and shearling seemed instead to reference Yeezy's previous collections.
The offer was completed by track pants and tops emblazoned with "Calabasas" (a Los Angeles reference, the suburb where West and his family live) or with "Lost Hills", the name of an album West is making with Drake.
There was one look, though, that revealed where West is currently taking his inspirations: a tracksuit worn tucked into leather thigh-high boots gave it all away bringing back memories of Vêtements' S/S 17 collection (that also featured oversized parkas, denim combos and chenille garments).
Now, you're right, celebrities are invited to do such collaborations not because they are incredibly innovative geniuses, but because they drive sales and companies want to sell. But West's "designs" have so far been an assemblage of old pieces from the Salvation Army.
Ripping off Vêtements, a label heavily indebted to Martin Margiela (their cult thigh-high boots are reinventions of Margiela's, remember the A/W 2001 collection?), seems even more depressing, and proves that in fashion you can do away with a lot of things, and borrowing, copying and plagiarising seem to be acceptable, especially if you're a celebrity (ask yourself, if you were a fashion lecturer, would you let one of your students get away with collections such as Kanye West's?).
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