Boney-faced models looked as though they had been doused in slime and sent through a wind tunnel, their hair matted and spiked with some kind of thick black ectoplasm. The whole thing felt dark and aggressive, with trench coats and floor-length biker jackets haphazardly patchworked from belts and sleeves and rogue plackets. It was hard and fast, born from the darkest corners of a hypebeast’s mind.
Photography Cris Fragkou
