With model-actors hobnobbing in a household bar set-up, Saunders presented clothes as costumes. Everything was cut on an angle, with seemingly quotidian garments – woollen overcoats, office shirts, technical parkas – crumpled with signs of wear. Banana-legged trousers were crafted from varnished paper bags, the collars were slashed off tuxedo jackets, and the plackets on wipe-clean macs ran excessive and flopped in on themselves. Elsewhere, fluid two pieces were made from illusory, vibration-raising swirls, some with Oliver’s own face magnified to abstract extremes.
