First things first: presentations are genius. No door hassle, no rushing, editors can gab, actually look at the clothes, talk to the designer, all while remaining composed and civilized. “It just depends on the mood you want to create,” said Lim, diplomatically, when I suggested this should become the industry standard.
As for his collection, sprawled over a Chelsea penthouse, it was a cinematic feast of forlorn boys taking a trip through the desert in rumpled Italian tailoring, like Death in Venice crossed with Casablanca (piano player included). “It’s also about Beatniks,” Lim added, attempting to explain the concept to a perplexed Japanese reporter, who kept repeating “beat-sticks.”
Ah, beautiful clothes and languorously beautiful boys—one in particular, possibly the most beautiful person I have ever seen (my date agreed). Another perk of presentations? Audience participation. One saucy model kept breaking character to flirt shamelessly with girls snapping photos of him. “How about I snap some of you? Or, maybe we can take some together?” he asked suggestively to one confused editor, who blushed and fumbled with her camera.