On the one hand, we miss seeing Undercover on the runway, as Jun Takahashi has an innate ability to conjure the disparate elements of a show—music, lighting, and of course, the clothes—in such a way as to make the audience feel his intention acutely. On the other, a showroom visit encourages an up-close, un-rushed examination and appreciation of his designs. This season’s concept revolved around imbuing garments with different kinds of backstory: distressed treatments, most obviously, but also creating false evidence of clothes being lived in. A belt studded with “Trust your shadow, it remembers everything” articulated a shadow effect that recurred across shirts bearing traces of displaced pockets or when part of a garment fades from exposure, leaving an uncanny contrast. “Groupie” was embroidered in athletic script that might have appeared on a varsity jacket; a cap was simply rendered, embossed with stitched markings as though something had been meticulously removed.
But there were also ways in which Takahashi was recomposing: a summer-weight, fluid trench and several shirts boasted backs spliced with upside-down T-shirts or incrustations of lace. Tiers of eyelet poured out of shrunken menswear vests; panels of feathers that resembled wings were encased in the back of an everyday cotton jacket.
For every suggestion of disbelief from the designer—a button with the thought bubble, “This whole universe is completely insane”—there were counter-affirmations like a made-up clothing label randomly attached to outer seams that read, “but beautiful, a central philosophy.”
In the absence of speaking with Takahashi, there’s no way to know whether he was thinking along the lines of pentimenti, the details that an artist paints over that resurface, or whether this was a kind of elegy to clothes carrying our lived experience. Amidst these thought-provoking creations were some great fresh takes on vintage, such as a mint green fringed jacket that will eventually become actual vintage.
It was hard to miss the two full-length sheath dresses displayed on mannequins that had been conceived artistically, no commercial end goal in mind. From their well-worn bases in green jersey and burgundy velvet exploded gauzy, organza forms filled with padded organ shapes—basically, coiling, clustered guts contained at one shoulder and along the hip. As amazing as they were to gaze at and prod, they would have made an even stronger impression on the body.
