Womanswear FW 13/14 Part IV: Sci-Fi Occultism, Homely Hookers, and Cyborg Bikers

Somehow, I had a feeling that London Fashion Week would turn up some really hideous and heinous pieces of clothes. While there were some less-than-wearable pieces shown in New York City, for the most part it was a week of very safe collections that had me forgetting what I looked at by the time I closed the window. Not necessarily ugly, just unremarkable. “It’s okay Shannon,” I told myself, “just make it to London. Things are different there, taste is different, standards are different. Things are fun.” I was not wrong. My friends and readers, we’ve hit a veritable goldmine of repugnant and fabulous fashion.


House of Holland

While I admittedly don’t understand the aesthetic of House of Holland during a good season, I can sort-of see where this collection was going. It’s very Macklemore Thrift Shop  and we’ve been seeing the seventies being forcefully rebirthed all season, and yet I can’t with this line. The makeup makes the models look like they have black eyes and the clothes look like the rejected wardrobe of a live action Scooby Doo film.



Know what? This was a solid collection. It looked very board meeting, like some high power chick in London is tromping down the streets in her black business stiletto boots—minus, maybe, the horrible floral prints that Miss Marple would call dated, and then it happened. The boob pockets. Look at that shit. Even the models, who are paid to make it look enviable, are internally saying that they look like the biggest dweebs ever. The only entities who would ever find this okay would be unfashionable t-rexs, and they wouldn’t dare, because they already find it hard to make friends due to their inability to hug—they really wouldn’t want more attention drawn to their wittle arms.


KTZ Kokon To Zai

I appreciate the obvious plugging for University of Oregon, which was totally intentional but, perhaps, not the whole point of the line. So, lemme take a stab in the dark…Amish dark magic practitioners inspired by the works of M. Night Shyamalan. Did I get it right?


Sister by Sibling


WHY DOES THIS COLLECTION EXIST? No. Seriously, how can something this bad have ever made it to the sewing tables? I don’t know where to start. Hold on, give me a second to compose myself. This is one of the most repugnant collections of clothes I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve already reviewed Rodarte’s hotmess express. Sea green knit capes. Red leopard print. Flowers. Sweater bikinis. Leather sneakers. Fur. Fur everywhere. Fur bikinis. That sweater dress that looks like intestines that were barfed up by an animal and sewn together and trimmed with fur. How do you make this collection trashier than it is? Take away the undergarments and make the gals look like wooly cableknit grandmother sweater hookers.


Jean-Pierre Braganza

DESIGNERS TAKE NOTE: this is how you do futuristic bondage occult membership and make it work.


David Koma

While I’m having issues trying to envision this off the runway or a near-future red carpet event, this collection is one part video game, a dash of cyborgs, a massive dose of biker, another part Fifth Element, a huge helping of Mad Max, and together they add up to something really cool and bizarre. I can just see Tina Turner (and her legs) convulsing fiercely on the stage in one of these get-ups and I feel so touched.



Mary Katrantzou

This is a designer that is always taking things to the next level with patterns and shapes, and this collection is no different. I’ve got nothing negative to say, not even the abstract, harsh unwearableness of it, because this is just so pretty. Just looking at it makes me feel like a melancholic geisha who has fallen in love with someone she shouldn’t have, and not even in a bad way.


Preen by Thornton Bregazzi


This is so gorgeous. The unique collars, the insanely deep v-necks that I could never wear with my cowardice but wish I could, the pixilated patterns, the floral embroidery and embellishments, sheer floral appliqués, the shapes that seem so wearable—I just, I…




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