Two Of A Kind: Strap Something Onto The Left Torso

It’s no longer enough to carry a messenger bag across the body. You’d also want a “harness bag” or what could be half a garment


Yuki Hashimoto vs Dior.jpgLeft: Yuki Hashimoto’s biker jacket half added to a trench coat. Photo: Yuki Hashimoto. Right: A Dior “harness bag” worn over a suit jacket. Photo: Isidore Montag/

Fashion brands are constantly finding something other than what they already make to sell to you. Extra revenue streams do not only come from tempting you with useful wares such as a satchel, but also from creating newness with either former successes or, sometimes, with, frankly, use-limited items to seduce you.

Some bags, of late, fall in the latter category, such as this one-sided front-pack from Dior (right), featured in its recent, still talked-about presentation in Miami. It looks like a Japanese one-shoulder bag, popular with the less fashion-oriented: a flat,single strap (in the case of Dior, and extra one to wear around the waist) case usually worn across the bag until recently, in front. Dior calls its version a “harness bag”, and it’s co-designed with Matthew Williams, the guy behind Alyx and the chest rig craze.

The bag nearly obscures the house’s new-classic “oblique jacket” and is worn almost like half-a-vest. It is hard to imagine how much one can store in it or how much weight one might wish to carry on one side of the torso. Surely, no that much can be carried even by the looks of it, a notebook can sit comfortably in it.

Designers, it seems, are constantly finding newer ways to wear or carry a bag. The bum-bag has its place across the chest and under the belly button. The supermarket bag, now used as a tote, is carried under the arm. The sacoche, inspired by the chest rig, is hung from the neck to rest right on the solar plexus.

Unconventional bag placement on the body could have started—on a smaller scale—with the holster bag that appeared in the first Virgil Abloh men’s collection for Louis Vuitton, designed for Insta-likes than utilitarian value. After all, why does anyone want to wear something that feels like a pistol is within reach?

Perhaps, more compelling is Yuki Hashimoto’s one side of a bike jacket (left) from the autumn/winter 2019 season. It caught our attention because the garment feels more authentic and less a bag trying to be something else. We also like the pairing of what’s essentially an item of rebellion with an article of elegance, even when the trench has roots in the military—a sum which captures Japanese fashion’s predilection for the unexpected, not just the new.

Mr Hashimoto, although a fresh name in the Japanese design scene (the eponymous brand debuted with the spring/summer 2019 collection) has an impressive résumé. He did his overseas studies at the Antwerp Royal Academy of Fine Art after graduating from Kyoto University of Fine Art and Design, and served as design assistant to Raf Simons, Kris Van Ascche, and at Maison Margiela before striking out on his own. His label seems poised to follow compatriots such as Junya Watanabe and Jun Takahashi in leading men’s wear innovation further into the new decade.

For that, we’re looking for creativity beyond carrying bags across every part of the body until there’s none left to explore. Our body deserves better.

Walk Like A Skeleton

To be transparent, wear your X-Ray results


Skeletal AW 2010

By Ray Zhang

Halloween is over, but that does not mean we can’t wear a stark reminder of our mortality as if it’s a Rick Owens leather jacket. I know I can. But would I? The thing is, I have an irrational fear of the macabre and I am not sure wearing an outfit that reveals my skeletal whole is particularly appealing when I am already known among my friends as a broomstick. As they say, state not the obvious. Or, embrace not bad fengshui.

Yet, despite its place in Halloween celebrations and in the proverbial closet, skeletons are a bit of a fashion fave right now. First, it was Nike that dropped an Air Force 1 sporting the side view of a skeletal foot complete with tarsals, metatarsals, and phalanges that will make sense to (or even delight) an orthopedist, not the many of us. But unless its worn in a dark space illuminated by UV lights, the fright that it might inspire would be a mere boo from behind Teddy, Mr Bean’s BFF-bear.

Not to be outdone, Loewe, too, has up their sleeves, rather than one body part, a full skeleton, split into a sweater and a pair of shorts. It is as if designer Jonathan Anderson knew there would be Nike kicks to match. But as the house explains it, this is homage to the British tile designer (also potter and novelist) William de Morgan, whose works, including stained glass and furniture, featured fantastical birds—among them the Dodo, and were sold through Morris and Co, the design firm of his friend, the textile designer (and similar multi-hyphenate), William Morris, leader of the British arts and crafts movement of the Victorian era, who was just as known for his poetry and novels.

Mr Anderson is similarly into arts and crafts, especially for the house of his Spanish employers. The skeleton, while an unusual subject for needlework and much that is made by hand, is given an unmistakable craft twist—yarn emerging randomly throughout the sweater that Loewe calls “loose fringes”. The skeleton is interestingly anatomically correct in the front and back. Only thing missing is a skull. Loewe would need a balaclava for that.

The skull was once a hot motif, but that’s now so last decade. Or Meghan McCain (she told The New York Times in 2011, “I have 10 of them”. And why have just the head when you can have the rest of the body? Regardless of what I said earlier, I know I like the look of Shaggy Rogers electrified! If the late Alexander McQueen is thought to be the trend-setter when it comes to the skull (even as far back as his 1992 graduate collection), perhaps Jonathon Anderson could be the leader of the skeletal pack.

Loewe Skeleton sweater and shorts are not in store yet. Call for release date and price. Nike Air Force 1 Skeleton Black, SGD209, is available at select Nike stores or online. Product photos: respective brands. Collage: Just So

Would You Wear Vogue?

The magazine may be a “fashion bible”, but when it comes to the Vogue-branded clothes, it’s a lot more pulp


The Kith jacket blessed by Vogue. Photo: Hypebeast

Is Vogue becoming a lifestyle brand? It isn’t certain yet. At the autumn/winter 2019 presentation of the New York sneaker retailer Kith shown two days ago, clothes bearing the Vogue logo in its distinctive font, said to be a “modified Didot”, were presented in a catwalk show for the store’s Kith Air collection. This is the second collaboration between retailer and magazine—whether Kith’s Ronnie Fieg and Vogue’s Anna Wintour met over this, no one could say.

It is possible that this is the work of the marketing arm of the title than the editorial’s since the output is not quite what Vogue might consider fashion, even if many show attendees and, later, influencers, consider them of note. Are these transformative threads that could result in the digital phenomenon known misleadingly as ‘trending’ (easily mistaken as ‘trendy’)? It’d be interesting to see if even one of the title’s editors would pick any of these pieces for the magazine’s fashion pages in the coming months.

Kith X Vogue 2019 G1.jpgUnremarkable clothes despite two storied names. Photos: Vogue/Alessandro Lucioni/Gorunway

It looks like the latest Vogue-branded apparel expands on the last pairing’s two-item offering by, well, another two. Still bearing the titular name, the current pieces include varsity jacket and track pants on top of the expected hoodies (minus the sweatshirt from the last). Formerly, the Vogue logo was placed in a box, a la Supreme. This time, in addition to that, it is emblazon on the front of the varsity jackets with the prominence of mastheads, with as much colour as Burberry’s Patpong hues of the recent representation of the British brand’s name. Even the track pants sport similar logo placement: down the leg of the pants, along the seam.

Mr Fieg is a shoe retail veteran and a much-lauded sneaker designer since the opening of his first store Kith in 2011. Despite having collaborated on many desired kicks in the past decade or so, as well as Kith-branded clothes, he has not enjoyed a consensus that leans on him being a good fashion designer. But that, in New York, is besides the point, especially since Supreme’s James Jebbia won menswear designer of the year at last year’s CFDA awards. In the U.S., business model is more crucial than fashion design, and Kith’s increasing clout proves the point already raised by store-first-than-fashion Supreme.

Kith X Vogue 2017.jpgThe surprisingly lame first offering of Kith X Vogue in 2017. Photo: Kith/Nolan Persons

Still, is it not possible to produce clothes that are not variations of the hoodie? And if, indeed, a hoodie is a must because the customers are telling you to produce more as they have been buying more, is Kith unable to offer those that are not meekly differentiated by a mere name, although a 127-year-old one? For Vogue’s 125th anniversary, the retailer created basically two styles of tops, a hoodie and a sweatshirt, each displaying a boxed logo that could have been Gap re-branded, and marketed via images that would not be out of place in Qoo10 or Shopee. Or, was that the plan and the point—Vogue can come down from its lofty perch?

Magazine mastheads that are fashion labels are not new. Elle has for a long time licensed its name for clothing lines, as well as homeware. Vogue itself was once associated with clothing too, in the form of published patterns (now part of McCall Pattern Company that, for trivia buffs, also owns Butterick), but, like most print media, has gone digital. Better known, perhaps, is Vogue Eyewear, launched in 1973 “under the same name as the famous fashion magazine”, according to Luxottica, who owns the brand. Interestingly, the sunglasses they are known for now sell under a different logotype to the magazine, presumably so that there is no direct linkage.

That Vogue is willing to allow its name to be used on such near-grassroots, very  Calabasas clothing is perhaps less to do with fashion than popularity—the need to remain visible in an era when the relevance of magazines has been called to question. Its pairing with Kith, not, say, Marc Jacobs, is commercially consistent with the much used strategy of employing the reach and cool associations of born-in-the-streets brands to stay prominent in the public’s eye.’s Runway happily noted that “Kith is a New York brand and a testament to New York–style business”. Notice there’s no mention of design. Or, fashion.

The Awful Feeling Of Feeling Nothing

Hedi Slimane’s first men’s wear collection for Celine is in store. Who’s excited?

By Ray Zhang

I did not want to dismiss the hottest debut this year. Not just like that, not prematurely, not without first seeing the clothes, close-up. You may want to know I am not an Hedi Slimane fan ( I don’t think any of us in SOTD are), never have been. What I feel about his Celine for men is not going to be, for his die-hard followers, fair, but this was what I saw. It was not a cursory glance, but a close examination, as close as it gets.

While I had expected Mr Slimane’s aesthetic repetition, I came away certain again that he was telling me what I’ve seen before is what I shall and should see again. Newness is not new, as he communicates through familiar “Teddy” jackets. Don’t expect change. By now you should know he isn’t giving any. If you thought this was a reprise of his Saint Laurent, which then divided fashion opinion, you did not think wrongly or unreasonably. In the Hedi Slimane l’opera mode, one note is the best note.

Even the interior of the store is a throw-back to the years before his current tenure. Now, somehow the rigidity seemed intimidating. The stone walls, the harsh lighting; the minimal metal-frames-as-racks, suspended from the bare ceiling; the floating shelves, protruding from walls; the sterile glass cabinets; the industrial boast; the deliberate coldness that hits you like a slap—they stubbornly told me, to hell with my expecting things to be different.

In the end, it was the first Celine men’s collection that I have come to view. A Web browser might be useful in seeing the clothes as they were shown—in full swagger, but it is in a retail setting, where the clothes do not gain from the deceptive art of styling and the bodies that match those of Mr Slimane’s rock world, that I get to see the collection as individual pieces. Do they hold up individually? Lest I am mistaken, these are not badly made clothes; they just don’t fall into a category I can confidently say ‘designed’. Reprise, yes. So, as shirts go, as jeans go, as blazers go, they hold up to Uniqlo.

This, of course, risks being called comparing apples to pears. But what crossed my mind when I saw a viscose Western shirt in shadow check (that I later learn is part of a “classic shirt” range) with nothing a design lecturer might be able to point out to her students as creative, was “Gap”! After what Raf Simons did to the Western shirt at Calvin Klein, you’d think the bar for such a chemise (if there’s still demand for it) was raised. Mr Slimane obviously does not care about raised bars, which, to me, still suggests an indolence of approach, more so if you concur that there’s considerably more effort at Levi’s Made & Crafted.

Even the T-shirts, today an important entry-level category, can’t evoke a hint of admiration; their graphics made Off-White’s arrows look exceedingly artistic. The one with the oversized Celine logo, printed wholesale—it could have been Converse! Surprising were the shape of tees, which appeared to be for those who have spent considerable time in the gym and need tops that can allow the fabric’s tensile strength to be tested. The sleeves were so abbreviated, they seemed capped—the better to emphasise biceps! Sure, Mr Slimane most likely did not intend for them to be worn as a muscle tee, but they look decidedly from a time when clothes needed to give extreme musculature definition.

It is understandable that during the time he was at Saint Laurent, doing clothes that sat just above the humdrum, customers were into ‘looks’ rather than designs. As separates, those pieces were simple and easy to wear, evoking a rock-cool sensibility that is understandably appealing. But don’t people tire of what in Thailand is called same-same? There is, of course, nothing wrong with doing simple. The offerings of Lemaire, Jil Sander, and OAMC are oftentimes the antithesis of complex, but they don’t cross into the spirit-dampening space of nothingness. Pick anything in the Celine store, hold it up, and you are likely to return it to the rack than bring it to the fitting room.

But it was the fitting room that the sales staff was trying to persuade me to go to. When I stood before a plain white skinny shirt in an admittedly seductive cotton poplin, he asked me what my size was. When I took a tuxedo jacket in wool crepe to have a closer look and a surer touch, he pointed to the nearest mirror and told me I could slip it on. When I stroked a pair of dark denim jeans that looked totally linear from waist to hem, he said that “the store has only skinny”. Was that criticism of the old Ganryu jeans I was wearing? When I moved away from the clothes, he looked at me with what I thought were pupils of pity.

By then, I concluded that the sleek and stubbornly forbidding interior camouflaged the clothes’ total lack of warmth and allure. As quickly as I went in, I left. Not even a shirt cuff tugged at my interest. I didn’t feel a thing.

Photo: Galerie Gombak

The Trucker Gets A Major Makeover

Levi’s go modern with one its most recognisable jackets


By Ray Zhang

I have to admit; I have a weakness for denim jackets, especially those modelled after the Trucker, that unmistakable Levi’s top that, according to urban lore, was once called a “blouse”, and now a classic that has spawned as many competitor versions as there are 5-pocket jeans.

The first I bought was a Gap version from the 1969 line back in the early ’90s. When that no longer felt right to me (and, admittedly, when my disposable income became more disposable), I upgraded to an Helmut Lang version, which, at that time, felt terribly sleek, as it was cut slimmer and more ‘tailored’—admittedly an odd description for jeans wear of the era. This was way before Hedi Slimane was installed at Dior Homme.

I didn’t wear my denim jackets frequently enough as they were really too thick for our punishing weather. But some time during the mid-Nighties, I found what I consider the ultimate Trucker-style jacket: Levi’s X Junya Watanabe’s version made not with denim, but cotton poplin in pajama stripes! These were very light and wore like a shirt, which, to me, was a boon, considering how unfriendly our weather is to even the lightest layering.

I have not worn any of my Truckers of late since, these days, an extra piece of clothing will elicit “are you cold?”—a question that, more often than not, isn’t innocently asked. But my attraction to the Trucker has not not diminished. When I saw this version at Levi’s recently, I was, truth be told, quite smitten. This is not the classic Trucker. In fact, there is nothing classic about the Lej Knit Trucker. And therein lies the appeal.

Levi’s has made the latest iteration of their popular jacket in a technical knit that Levi’s calls “Engineered Knit”, which, I suppose is a more imaginative description (aligning, also, with the return of the Engineered jeans) than merely being technical. The jacket has a lot less seams than the original Trucker, yet it still sports the features of the old “blouse”, especially the V-shape panels that shoot down from the pocket flaps on the chest.

The knit version (62% cotton, 28% nylon, 10% elastane)—currently available in heather grey—has a semi-contrast knit pattern replacing the panel of the denim version. Together with flat snap buttons, the Lej Knit Trucker is a minimalist take that will no doubt go with anything from Lemaire that you have been acquiring. Okay, I have been!

Levi’s Lej Knit Trucker, SGD239.90, is available at select Levi’s store. Photo: Zhao Xiangji

Oh, Hedi!

What’s your point?

Celine M AW 2019.jpg

Is Celine Men designed for Hedi Slimane himself? If so, that shouldn’t surprise anyone. Our comments here then risk being redundant, but bear with us.

Recently, we looked, again, at Hedi Slimane’s last show for Yves Saint Laurent Homme (titled Black Tie), his first and last show at Dior Homme, and his first and last show at Saint Laurent and we came to the conclusion that having reshaped the silhouette of men’s wear as early as 2000 (that Black Tie collection at YSL was prelude to everything he did at Dior Homme later and further down the road), Mr Slimane probably has no desire to change what he was responsible for: that certain leanness and rock ‘n’ roll edge. That skinny jeans (even skinny track pants!!!) still dominate the male wardrobe is testament to his aesthetical influence.

Unsurprisingly, his first stand-alone Celine presentation for men could have been a Dior Homme show or Saint Laurent. The models walk similarly, if not look similar. The Celine collection is, we were told, called “Polaroids of British Youths”, but, to us, it really is Pete Doherty all over again. Or, even Liam Gallagher (sorry, chap!). Mr Slimane’s brand of indie-rock cool has always veered towards England, never mind if he himself lives in Los Angeles, and is known to be into the music scene there. The English just does it better.

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Hedi Slimane is not Hedi Slimane if he does not do slim—boyish to boot. To be fair, for Celine Men, the skinniness is not so extreme. The boys are still lean, maybe not quite skin-and-bones as before, but they are primarily boys, unlike the models at Junya Watnabe, who cast grown men, middle-aged and above, for his Silver Swagger collection. Mr Slimane has his signature down pat: the silhouette is compact (nothing oversized) and the line straight. As with his women’s wear, he is not partial to ample space between body and cloth.

On a whole, the clothes look rather basic despite their rock musician posturing. One duffel coat is so unspectacular that you are sure that if you wish to ape the look, a very similar version available at Uniqlo can be had for a song, pun intended. You sense, too, that you may have seen some of the items elsewhere. A couple of the leather jackets look like they have appeared at Saint Laurent during Mr Slimane’s tenure there, while others such as the trim blazers with narrow lapels, now already commonplace in TopMan.

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An unapologetic designer, Mr Slimane is not about to explain why he took the path he has with Celine Men. He dishes it, and fans will lap them all up. Some members of the media say he is firmly helping men to return to an elegant way of dressing; they point to the collection’s missing sneakers. We’re not sure that many guys will abandon their T-shirts and their joggers at Mr Slimane’s catwalk command. This does not sing of his Dior Homme moment. Additionally, other brands, too, are signalling the shift away from streetwear. What then will be his Celine’s allure?

It is hard to say. These days, fashion also includes the power of social media not just the dictates of the runway. Or, one trending shirt (yes, Jeff Goldblum’s!) We can’t be certain that those who educate themselves about fashion via the Net won’t say this is an uninspired variation of a theme. It’s been seen and if we didn’t do them then, we’re not going to do them now. Or next fall.

Photos: (top) Youtube/(runway)

All Stood Still

Kim Jones’s second presentation for Dior reminds us of the 1980 Ultravox song. “The turbine cracked up/The buildings froze up/The system choked up/What can we do?”


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What can we do? When it was released, Ultravox’s All Stood Still, the final track on the first Midgre Ure-fronted Vienna and no. 8 on the UK singles chart, could, by listening to it again, possibly be about paralysis as a result of the failure of things around you, including technology, which was, of course, not what it is today. Was Kim Jones then also saying something about a flop—the failure of fashion?—when he required no walking from the models of the show? Of course we’re speculating, but it is possible, no?

The glum-as-usual models of Dior’s autumn/winter 2019 show must be the envy of the rest not included. When was the last time you saw a fashion show when models need not flex a muscle to move in order to effect the action we know as walking? The travelator that brought each from point A to B could be something on loan from Changi Airport! Still and not being unique (such as strutting oddly), the guys’ immobility was good for those of us who want to look at the clothes closely and clearly. And we sure did.

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Kim Jones has always been a designer with a point of view informed by the things happening around him. When he held the reigns at Louis Vuitton (Men), he was mirroring the times rather than actually designing to put an aesthetic mark on the brand the way his predecessor at Dior, Kris Van Assche had. But Dior is a storied house, and, typical of legacy brands, it requires a better-defined look—to put it simply—that would encourage loyalty in shoppers. In this collection, Mr Jones has created something distinctive and appealing, with couture underscoring the supreme quality of the clothes and a discernible aesthetical sum that will score with those who stick to a brand that is uniquely identifiable. There seems to be a deliberate step away from mass/hypebeast appeal.

Alluring, too, is the tailoring. This season, a certain softness characterises the construction, with sashes to soften the suits and coats even further. We vaguely remember Mr Jones’s tailoring flair during his Dunhill days. Now his skill is even more evident as he puts the Dior’s tailleur facility to truly good use, creating silhouettes that have little semblance to professional garb (the play of matte and soft shine, for example), which may draw the younger set of Dior customers as the brand intended to when they reassigned Mr Van Assche (to Berluti).

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Apart from the tailoring, there’s a calculated minimalism about the overall styling that may be a deliberate reaction on the part of Mr Jones against our myopic focus on the increasing meretriciousness of streetwear. Sophisticated comes to our mind as we write this. You probably have a better word. But the point is, Dior this season looks decidedly grown up, without anything Kaw-ish as the brand’s likely quick-to-expire UPI. In that sense, it reminds us of the the excellent work of Luke Meier (one half of the duo currently behind Jil Sander) for his label OAMC. Sure, Mr Jones’s use of harnesses and straps may be gimmicky even if they are masculinity-affirming (as opposed to skirts), but it doesn’t detract from the compelling elegance that stood out.

Mr Jones’s first collection for Dior did not quite move us. This time, there is something we can’t quite put our finger on, something that has design heft and visual strength, something that, we hope, has staying power.

Photos: Dior

Welcome To The ’Hood

Virgil Abloh’s second collection for Louis Vuitton affirms that black/hip-hop aesthetic is here to stay


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It’s not only a street thing; its’s a black thing. And the street is not any one of them in the 7th or 8th arrondisement of Paris, but possibly somewhere in East Harlem. Louis Vuitton’s setting for the latest collection left no doubt as to which street culture it is paying homage to. Virgil Abloh may have earlier said that the collection would be inspired by Michael Jackson, but the gloved one enjoyed only hints. Yet, it is not a murky patina that Mr Abloh’s sophomore outing for LV is an expression of blackness.

This, to be sure, is not entirely about race. It is a cultural thing, an assertion of self, the visual preference of an increasingly visible group of people. Mr Abloh is going all the way with putting black aesthetic sensibility not just centre, but the entire length of the catwalk. The audience faced a section of a neighbourhood Mr Abloh may be familiar with, complete with a closed-for-the-day barber shop (from which he will later emerge to take his bow), but not, perhaps, for many of the attendees. Towards the end of the presentation, flags of different nations (apparently to reflect the nationalities of his design team) were attached haphazardly on bags and appeared as patchwork (print?) on outers and a skirt, but while they may sing We are the World, they offer little to score the plurality that Mr Abloh appears to propose. This is, and perhaps even more a black collection than his debut last year.

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Follow-ups are never easy. To be fair, this was more amiable than the first, a confident stride forward, but do skirts for men, even if pleated and of uneven hem, offer the difference that would make us gasp, whether in disgust or delight? This is our problem, if we can call it that, with the collection: it is not devastatingly good nor horribly bad. It straddles the banks of trying to be elegant on one side and maintaining street cred on the other. A pastiche of ideas put together to delight Mr Abloh’s circle of friends, the hip-hop moguls and artistes that support him, the bros of the ‘hood. Not to mention those sneakerheads who need shoes with parts identified in bold font. But this isn’t the hybrid styles that Japanese designers such as Kolor’s Jinichi Abe do so well. This is Fenty for men.

Admittedly, we have not entirely digested the onslaught of street wear into luxury fashion. And the continued push for tailoring at other houses—including, unmistakably, at LV and the LVMH-owned Dior—may be indication that the backlash is nigh. Yet, street style isn’t going away, not any time soon. Off-White and its ilk have set the ground work, LV is merely following, even if the brand’s two-season old designer is he pied piper. Mr Aboh is perhaps succeeding when Kanye West has not. Who remembers Yeezy now?

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There have, of course, been all-round rave for Mr Abloh’s work at LV, but we do wonder if it’s because this is the first time a black man is putting together (we resist the use of ‘design’ for the time being) a collection the way he does. Shades of Issey Miyake and Raf Simons aside, the aesthetical approach has not, as far as we can remember, been output by a black designer, particularly an American with deep ties to the country’s black cultural rise. There is no discriminatory intent here. Mr Abloh is expressing himself as a black man. And if the successes of Pyer Moss’s Kerby Jean-Raymond and born-againer Dapper Dan are any indication, black aesthetical vision, even if tempered by the styles of the ’80s/’90s avant-garde, is no mirage on the horizon.

Americana is alive too in this collection, but not in the same vein as Raf Simons’s interpretation for Calvin Klein that could be one of the many reasons his relationship with the brand’s owners, PVH Corp, had come to an end. Mr Abloh’s take is more inner city than cowboy country, more hip-hop charts than B-grade movies, more Jean-Michel Basquiat than Andy Warhol. This is American style infiltrating French fashion that former LV employee Marc Jacobs did not quite as successfully launch. And, it looks set to stay.

Photos: (top} Louis Vuitton/YouTube, (runway)