The set was amazing: a maybe 10-meter-high wall of water split in two to create the impression of a breaking wave. Its movement pushed an ozone-tinged breeze down a showspace floored in sand and benched in weathered wood. Carine Roitfeld, the coolest, went barefoot. Although surrounded by walls, we were in the open air. The show ran late because Future had not arrived. A chatter of parakeets flew overhead. Even after 9:30 p.m., it was hot enough to seem surreal that we were in Paris.
This almost Lagerfeldian set was shaped to express the theme of this Louis Vuitton menswear collection. The models emerged from the tube: each look shot forth from the barrel as a surf-inflected expression of Williams’s overarching aesthetic. Speaking pre-show, he said: “It’s all dandy: This guy’s dandy, he just likes surfing too.” That surfing element served to soften the previously much more structured definition of Williams’s tailoring silhouette. It also gave the Louis Vuitton menswear studio license to apply some wonderfully weathering treatments to surfaces and to build some embellishments that carried real visual depth.
Yes, there were surfboards, from thrusters to longboards, and wetsuits. The wetsuits had been made by a specialist company in the south of France and featured a new zip-in design at the neck. Near the end, one model came out carrying an LV-branded racing bike on his shoulder. There were, of course, also bags: the most amazing to behold were those built up with pins and beading to seem coral-crusted (LV announced its funding of a reef restoration project in French Polynesia in the show notes). The most amazing to hold, established during the preview, were the “marshmallow” effect bags lined in memory foam, and the broad new range of monogram pieces clad in a silkily light but sturdily robust fabric—“silk tech”—that materially changed the aspect of the house’s usual leather or canvas classics.
A choppy wave of similar coraline beading edged the hem and sleeves of a deep blue parka layered over a leather workwear shirt and washed leather 5-pocket pants, also blue. The look was topped by a stenciled logo-on-fade cap—one of many strong caps—in a faded mossy green. The classic M65 jacket was presented in leather and cord-collared denim, but flipped so that its chest pockets opened to the side, allowing the wearer to affect a kangaroo tuck. One jacket was built up from no fewer than 480 stitched-together LV patches, and then washed to give the salt-smacked effect the studio tried to apply across this collection. Almost as a response to this one piece, much of the denim featured darker areas of fabric as if patches once sewn there had been taken off.
Above the crash of the water this collection lightly jangled. Surfboard chains, crab-claw chains, charms, rock earrings, cactus keychains, flower pins, and miniature bags were all part of a densely assembled curation of small accessories. There was a great shell minaudière. Embroideries on monogram pieces delivered small drops of intense color from a collaboration Williams had overseen entitled Acid Rain.
A sea-moss croc hooded blouson was worn with black board shorts, tube socks, and sneakers, turning exotic shine into a surf-ready shell. A light taupe mink sweater coat, worn with A-line shorts and a lasered camp hat was obviously luxurious to the touch and apparently beach-worn to the eye. Perhaps the most overtly summery proposition was an embellished cashmere cardigan with palm trees worn with yellow, two-pleat striped trousers and accessorized by a “sea leopard” surfboard whose pattern was based on macro photos of shells. This look also seemed appealingly softened and scuffed. “I really do it with love,” said Williams.
