LONDON--In a fury of skirts and schoolyard angst, the show was over. Meadham Kirchhoff sent 24 looks flying down the catwalk en masse in a sharply choreographed show with real intensity. The corps of models amassed in the venue's backlit arches before powering down the runway. On reaching the end, individuals peeled off and stepped in a crisp-cornered formation around the sets. The result was a visual feast that felt more akin to performance art or a major Broadway production than a typical fashion show. But the convention-breaking format did make it difficult to really take anything in. What captured our attention were the pleated red silk and lace skirts, lace-up kitten heels worn over cable-knit socks, and puritannical pinafores. After, we were agog at the two catwalk installations. Chain-link fences heaving with wilted floral bouquets, hand-written letters, plastic-covered photgraphs of women, burnt candle stubs and cardboard signs bearing scrawled messages like “everything I am is borrowed,” they brought to mind the ad-hoc shrines that spring up at sites of stabbings (at least in London). Here, they served as memorials for the tortured girlhood of last season’s show. May it rest in peace.
**Photos by Imaxtree.