There’s a gleefully queasy perversity to Jonathan Anderson’s men’s line that’s absent from his womenswear. He once said he was inspired by mother-son incest and you could certainly believe that the slender milquetoast lads he sent down the runway this morning had raided the wardrobe of some stylish and overbearing matriarch.
Anderson gained column inches last season for putting his boys in lace-up platform heels. While the gender-bending was a little less overt this time around, he’s still the coolest, kinkiest member of the LVMH stable. His men’s collections have an unmistakably camp sensibility; they evoke a cloying, cloistered world of decadent momma’s boys. There’s a fascination with ‘bad taste’ here with almost kitschy, 70s flourishes — i.e. the postcard imagery on the carpet-like knits that opened the show — that is gloriously uncomfortable to behold.
Also on show were Margaret Thatcher-ish pussy-bow blouses paired with slouchy flared trousers in matching chevron print and richly textured cardigans that plunged to reveal non-existent cleavage and were imbued with an odd kind of sexuality. Naturally, for a designer who strives to disregard gender binaries there was a notable synergy with his womenswear, particularly seen in the slash necked shell tops that acquired volume and shape simply from large knots tied in the fabric — a nod to the Japanese conceptualists he frequently references.