Fashion is a cult. Nothing proves this point more than the seating chart at a fashion show. Front row, second row, third row (when possible), or no row at all. Yes, standing. Entry is free. Though the price to pay for a collective experience outside the internet is debatable. Being in fashion is a dopamine high, but when you’re out, it can feel like the worst rejection. Yet despite Walter Van Beirendonck’s enduring fandom, he proudly proclaims his outsider status.
Mostly because it allows him to approach his process with an unfiltered perspective, he says. A perspective best described as wonderfully absurd, but distinctly Walter. “I have called this collection scare the crow or scarecrow,” he said in the program. “Perhaps because a scarecrow stands alone, assembled from whatever is at hand, trying to look human.”
Yet much like his fans, his cast this season seemed to travel in packs. Mirroring the shared absurdity of being an outsider on the inside–travelling in pink plastic trousers and pigtails–Super Soakers and toy guns, Beirendonck’s usual campy take on politics, as well as an homage to the innocence of youth. “Youth, in its truest form, is something I want to hold onto forever,” said Beirendonck. Another inspiration: French artist André Robillard, who, fittingly, spent most of his life in and out of psychiatric hospitals making toy guns.
The Son of Man cotton candy-colored tailoring in British wools combined with nylon and plastic, and dandified bowler hats added dashes of tangibility to the collection, but safe is never on the menu at Walter Van Beirendonck. Each collection, undoubtedly, a pinky promise to stay weird.
words. Malcolm Thomas
