We travelled to Iceland and captured the explosive colour at the heart of the country's creative fightback
Last week, Dazed travelled to Iceland to shoot the second Reykjavik Fashion Festival, opened by the city's mayor Jon Gnarr with a famous letter from Lieutenant Colonel Mervin Willett Gonin. The officer was among the first soldiers to liberate concentration camp Bergen-Belsen in 1945, and he described how the arrival of hundreds of lipsticks at the camp began to give the prisoners back their humanity. It was an unusual speech to give on the catwalk but an effective one, reminding us that fashion can is about identity and escapism; individuality and expression... freedom.
We interviewed some of the key designers at the shows, such as the celebrated wunderkind Mundi Vondi and Lady Gaga favourite VERA, and captured the mania behind the scene, providing an interesting window into a culture unlike any other on the planet, and further confirming the creative fightback in country ravaged by the economic crisis we explored in our documentary Northern Light. But hey, rather than go on about it all, we'll just let you watch the film. In fact, the best way to introduce it, is perhaps the way it was introduced on the opening night, so below are reprinted the inspiring words with which the red-lipped mayor introduced Icelandic fashion to the international audience, a timely reminder why fashion at its best is an important staple of a free society:
I can give no adequate description of the Horror Camp in which my men and myself were to spend the next month of our lives. It was just a barren wilderness, as bare as a chicken run. Corpses lay everywhere, some in huge piles, sometimes they lay singly or in pairs where they had fallen.
It took a little time to get used to seeing men women and children collapse as you walked by them and to restrain oneself from going to their assistance. One had to get used early to the idea that the individual just did not count. One knew that five hundred a day were dying and that five hundred a day were going on dying for weeks before anything we could do would have the slightest effect. It was, however, not easy to watch a child choking to death from diptheria when you knew a tracheotomy and nursing would save it, one saw women drowning in their own vomit because they were too weak to turn over, and men eating worms as they clutched a half loaf of bread purely because they had to eat worms to live and now could scarcely tell the difference.
Piles of corpses, naked and obscene, with a woman too weak to stand proping herself against them as she cooked the food we had given her over an open fire; men and women crouching down just anywhere in the open relieving themselves of the dysentary which was scouring their bowels, a woman standing stark naked washing herself with some issue soap in water from a tank in which the remains of a child floated.
It was shortly after the British Red Cross arrived, though it may have no connection, that a very large quantity of lipstick arrived. This was not at all what we men wanted, we were screaming for hundreds and thousands of other things and I don’t know who asked for lipstick. I wish so much that I could discover who did it, it was the action of genius, sheer unadulterated brilliance. I believe nothing did more for these internees than the lipstick. Women lay in bed with no sheets and no nightie but with scarlet red lips, you saw them wandering about with nothing but a blanket over their shoulders, but with scarlet red lips. I saw a woman dead on the postmortem table and clutched in her hand was a piece of lipstick. At last someone had done something to make them individuals again, they were someone, no longer merely the number tattooed on the arm. At last they could take an interest in their appearance. That lipstick started to give them back their humanity.
Lieutenant Colonel Mervin Willett Gonin (this diary is archived at The Imperial War Museum, London)