J.W. Anderson’s show was entitled “Semiology of the Self.” Now we don’t want to talk semantics, but this had us a little intrigued. The show notes were just as complex, describing the show as “an examination of cacophonic chemistry, reconciling opposites through textural bipolarness in order to achieve hypernormality, the new normal.”
As far as we could tell, on the surface this applied to his fabric technique–wool so thickly constructed it looked like neoprene, and leather ruched until it looked like plastic. It was genuinely hard to tell what fabric any piece was–a testament to his objective. The show had an institutional feel just as it did last season, with open-backed jackets held together like hospital gowns, and skirts that were dramatically shorter at the back than the front. Collars were tightly ruched around the neck, and the color palette was stark.
Anderson played with subversive details such as a panel strapping one arm to the body, a belt sewn to the side of a skirt so that it dangled down without a purpose, and tops with large holes in the side. These features, combined with the wow-factor crowd (Carine Roitfeld et al), suggests that J. W. Anderson really is the second coming of the Antwerp 6–the London 1, maybe?