Simon Ekrelius S/S 2011, illustrated by Antonia Parker
After a terrible morning trying to fix my sodding bike, giving up, taking it to Evans Cycles, regretting that because the employee was an arse and then persuading him to eventually fix it, I cycled precariously to Victoria House with one brake and the other attached with Blu-Tack to catch Simon Ekrelius‘ show. I didn’t know anything of Ekrelius until today but whenever I mentioned his name people would practically fall at my feet (perhaps wishing they were falling at his).
Well, it turns out the hype my small circle of friends had built was deserved. I decided to stand with the macho photographers in the pit this time to experiment with a different angle for images. If only I had known the following three facts.
1. Photographers are nasty
2. I was standing in the front of the world’s loudest speaker
3. Simon Ekrelius had chosen shot gun noises to launch his show.
Imagine my surprise when the crowd were shushed, the lights fell low, and the BANG BANG BANG started up behind me. Jesus Christ. My entire self moved three feet across the room, at which point the whole of the photographer’s pit descended into cackles of laughter. And who can blame them? I was as red as a peach.
Illustration by Antonia Parker
As the first model strutted down the catwalk, I desperately tried to pull myself together, which didn’t take too long as the attention was quickly diverted to what the models had on offer. These girls were not shy. They had clearly been directed to march to the front in the normal fashion, but then as they made their way back, to walk in a zig-zag pattern and stop periodically to pose. And pose they did, rather fabulously. It was HILARIOUS, particularly when we got to the nudity part of the show and front rowers were subjected to bare arses in their face…
I should probably say something about the fashion by now. Well, it was grand. Pretty much everything was translucent or transparent in some way, hence the abundance of gratuitous arse and tit. There were some fabulous monochrome numbers inspired by graphic art, which were split directly down the middle or by the use of geometric shapes – this worked best on all-in-one catsuit numbers, which were teamed with huge brimmed hats that had the front row bloggers throwing their cameras in the air in unison.
Illustration by Antonia Parker
The use of such shiny materials with oodles of aesthetic appeal made a sometimes basic collection of cropped separates and halter-neck playsuits into a more futuristic one. Exaggarated shoulders and high waistlines were delivered with masculine tailoring, creating a dominative silhouette. Accessorised with blue-rinse hair piled on top of heads, huge sunglasses and coral lips, the styling was superb.
The show continued with more dramatic silhouettes, lots more monochrome (which worked SO well, I have to say) and then it got a little sillier with these transparent numbers I was speaking of. I mean, they were actually amazing in terms of conception and craftsmanship, but nobody’s going to leave the house like that, are they? That would be arrestable, surely? I bet they’d look great with a modest vest or something underneath. I’d imagine. But all that flesh was a little too much for me (thank god I hadn’t taken my allocated seat on the front row, or I might have ended up with an arse in my face like so many onlookers.)
All in all, though, a fab outing for Mr Ekrelius. Less tit next time, please. Right, next up, Charlie le Mindu and those vaginas. Good heavens.
All photography by Matt Bramford
Categories ,Antonia Parker, ,Arse, ,BFC, ,catwalk, ,London Fashion Week, ,onoff, ,Plastics, ,review, ,S/S 2011, ,show, ,Simon Ekrelius, ,Tit, ,Transparent, ,Womenswear
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