omewhere in the neighborhood of 25 million tons of cardboard is discarded each year. Thinking on that is what got Jeremy Scott started on the cardboard couture day looks he opened his new collection with: double-breasted pant and skirt suits, camel coats, and one very cool moleskin-like trench covered in brand logos, fragile labels, and shipping tape. A cropped jacket with a do not crushwarning could come in handy at Milan Fashion Week, especially in the scrum outside the Moschino tent.cs.
Scott’s message for Fall was just as much about making do as it was about recycling. The show’s middle section featured collage prints of old Moschino editorials, “ripped from the pages ofVogue,” Scott said backstage. It was a clever, unobvious twist on the logo mania that has infiltrated the highest echelons of fashion. If you can’t buy the real thing, buy the magazine, and approximate the look yourself, he seemed to be saying. Can’t you just picture Scott as a Kansas City teenager, his bedroom walls plastered with tear sheets? And isn’t that relatability factor at least partly why the crowds surrounding Scott’s Milan shows are so well-stocked with non-jaded, non-industry types? Couture is an attitude, the front of his T-shirt read. The back: It’s not a price point.
In act three we got ball gowns and party dresses made from household detritus: shower curtains, a rug, bubble wrap, dry-cleaning packaging, gloves à la Margiela, and rats à la . . . well, nobody but Scott would do a stuffed rat stole. Also: Stephen Jones’s inspired chapeaux of feather dusters, candelabras, Kleenex boxes, bike wheels, and a trash can lid that nodded at one of Scott’s earliest collections. He’s celebrating the 20th anniversary of his independent eponymous label later this year. Then as now his winning formula was: a little thought-provoking, a lot of fun.
by Nicole Phelps (Vogue)