The Virgin Suicides by Tim Burton. The collection was framed by a narrated tale of six sisters who live and dress together, taking pleasure in the rules of dress, a fairy tale about the invented logic of personal presentation. For example: "Mondays they start the week in tailoring." By the weekend, they're naked. And as charming as this story was, the real narrative depth comes through the clothes themselves (isn't that how it should be), which were embedded with intricacies of thread and collaged silk. Outrageous fascinators further illustrated the six-model sections (dresses for Thursday, for example). There's something eerie about these collections – even this one set in a garden with a whimsical tale of sorority, with no sisterly murders or menacing – with models emerging, teetering, truly as vessels for performative clothes.
The show's story was written by Thom Browne and narrated by Diane Keaton.
The set was a garden lined in roses (red, white and blue rows – could you guess?), full of models painted like weathered stone, some on stilts that made their seersucker lines look like they extended the height of the room. In the centre, one model sat with butterfly wings and a mask. They all remained statue still as the waves of sisters walked in the grassy pathway around them.