The show notes for John Richmond’s fall show read like a punk/Goth manifesto — and a thumb in the eye to safe minimalism or quiet luxury: “Nothing here is passive. Everything has an attitude.”
That includes many of the front-row guests — party animals with full-face tattoos, impressively long drags on their e-cigarettes, and sunglasses left on, despite the gloomy venue: the Crypt at St Martin-in-the-Fields.
Heads bobbed to various remixes of “Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode as models stalked the vaulted space in their after-dark finery, finished off with scrunch or slouch boots.
Richmond did some clever remixing, too, throwing in bondage straps, spikes, ribbons, industrial chains, capes, drainpipe trousers and poet shirts — signposts of various British subcultures which reverberate still.
He gave everything a dressy, upscale spin: spelling out Angel, Devil with mother-of-pearl buttons on the lapels of a velvet tuxedo jacket; adorning capes and capelets with leather straps and silvery grommets, and adding prim, white collars to sexy little LBDs.
In black, ivory and shots of shocking pink, these clothes could take a Goth girl to prom night or an awards banquet, and a Teddy Boy to all manner of gigs.
Highlights included a long, lean black leather trench for him, and bell-skirted party dresses for her.
