Thomas Tait

What do you do if you’re the Next Big Thing in London? You relish in it and take your show far away from the official tents and into the depths of East London’s abandoned warehouses.


The never-ending grassy catwalk, dimmed lights and Inspector Gadget on the soundtrack could only hint at what Thomas Tait had in mind for fall. Taking country-club colors of moss green, mustard, and chocolate brown, he cut them into peacoat, bomber, varsity jacket, carrot trousers and, unexpectedly, jeans. But on his strange lawn they were not plain basics, but honed with an athleticism that continues to pervade his cult aesthetic. Shoulders were dropped on voluminous wool and wet-look leather jackets, some quilted, with peeks of ribbed leather turtlenecks.

Once he sent out the classics, he let the show-stopping look come out: a sweeping, floor-grazing olive green wool cloak that was regal and modern at once, complete with a sturdy black leather cap that reappeared throughout. The accessories were just as off-kilter. While last season it was old-school white trainers, this time? Velour scrunchies on models’ sleek, curled ponytails.

With Tait, there’s always a certain detachment, more of a Parisian polish than London’s eccentric buoyancy. Perhaps the French capital beckons, but judging from the applause that roared throughout the vibrating finale, it’d be very sad if London lost this compelling talent.

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