Sound is important at a fashion show – it gives the beat of a collection. Literally. The thumping, concrete-hard techno at Rick Owens was almost too much; too loud and too intense. Which equals too brilliant, obviously. It was threatening to blow out the speakers as it rattled both our seats and our ribcages.
The collection lived up to that, thankfully, both graphic and sculptural as it was. Back-to-front shirts with upturned collars were a bit ecclesiastical, a bit like a shard of glass to the throat and a bit, well, like you'd put your shirt on backwards. There were gloves with the fingers rendered in fur, elongating digits like a trickle-up version of the skeleton print knitwear you get for halloween. Then there was a jacket that looked like half a bin bag had been put over the models' head and shoulders, some sort of bondage/buried alive scenario gone wrong – 'Is that the operator? Police, please. I confess, he woke up stylish.'
Fantastic, this was total luxury in all senses of the word – the luxury of wicked humour; exotic fabrications and total idiosyncrasy that has defined a new generation chic. Which is why Owens has disciples, not just fans. #dazedmodelarmy's Jacob Bird, fresh from his appearance at Raf Simons the night before, was equally impressed, watching the show with us.