Jeremy Scott

Jeremy Scott must have some kind of perverse nostalgia for what we’ll fondly call the slutwear of Merry-Go-Round and Contempo Casuals. For his fall show, titled Hanger Appeal, he paraded a shameless sequence of their ilk to the kind of music associated with poppers and glory holes. (Appropriately, we found boxes of condoms, the fruits of his collaboration with Proper Attire, in our gift bags.) And that was just the beginning. Tops and mini-dresses bore gun-range target tits, a men’s sweater exposed serious barcode drama, overgrown rhinestones leeched off leather and lycra. We all laughed, with Jeremy, when models came out in black bodysuits with belts that had a five-foot-tall buckle of a glamazon silhouette. And then we got quiet when we realized that all the bedazzling referenced not ironic sweaters but stained-glass windows. Finally, when the crosses came out, we knew we were in Jeremy’s church.


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