The Moschino show, held on Thursday evening, began on bad footing. Firstly, there was the waiting. While we expect some sitting around in Milan (30 minutes is the norm), by the time it reached 50 minutes past the scheduled start time, we were beginning to question our existence. Eventually, Rita Ora arrived, but we didn’t care because it was the last show of the day and we wanted our dinner. But a fresh hell had yet to come. As the playlist of Rihanna and Lady Gaga continued to play on a loop to maddening effect, we continued to wait. Finally, Katy Perry arrived, almost an hour late, and everyone just kind of booed. It was probably not the arrival she was hoping for.
However, Jeremy Scott was exactly the kind of arrival we were hoping for. His full-collection debut at the fabled Italian brand was the complete opposite of a boo: It was a triumphant, high-kicking, supercharged show of pop culture and exuberance and history, all rolled into one SpongeBob SquarePants handbag.
Lily McMenamy opened the show, strutting down the catwalk like it was 1991, all hips and waving arms, complete with big yellow earrings to bling-out her cartoonishly cute skirt suit. (“Thank god somebody put on a show where people could have a bit of fun!” she told us later. “When I went out there, I felt like a rock star”).
What followed was a testament to the fact that the Moschino baton has now firmly been passed. The fashion gags of Franco Moschino (rubbish bags, witty slogans, beefeater hats) were re-told through the eyes of an American (McDonald’s handbags, popcorn dresses, nutrition-label ballgowns, SpongeBob SquarePants everything).
“I wanted to play with pop culture, as it’s part of my DNA and also part of the brand’s DNA,” explained Scott in the post-show melée. “Franco Moschino made dresses out of trash bags — we made them out of fast food. This is a global language — SpongeBob, Budweiser, McDonald’s — everyone recognizes these brands. This is about taking something trashy and making something that you’ll treasure forever.”
And even with all that wit and mirth, Scott really did create beautiful pieces: the bondage-style dress made entirely of Moschino belts; the neat, pale-washed denim skirt suits trimmed in gold chains; the cocktail dress made from Fruit Loops packaging; Jourdan Dunn’s glistening sequined tracksuit, which brought zealous applause.
It was a celebration of replenished and rejuvenated icons, danced out to the rapturous sounds of an extremely long orgasm over the sound system. If it was supposed to highlight that this was something worth waiting for, then I guess Scott got it down. We were ecstatic.