Yamamoto also explored austerity of design in a strong lineup that worked a snappy-gentle dichotomy, even if glum hair and makeup tried hard to camouflage the prettiness of the clothes. He opened soberly with a lean, long suit but then started baring shoulders and chopping skirts into minis, often ditching jackets in favor of crisp white shirts, some with puffed shoulders, that introduced a Victorian air. It was all delightfully fresh, and, by Yohji standards, as spare as it gets.
Or so one thought, until Yamamoto turned to the subject of decomposition. In a season of too much faux tattering, T-shirts appliquéd with random, ratty circles looked genuinely edgy, but when paired with holey-moley pants, the impoverishment turned too perfect. Not so, however, for the series of delicate wallpaper-print floral dresses and jackets. Seemingly discovered in an attic after being forgotten for generations, they bore their wistful decay with elegiac grace.
© by WWD / Photos by Giovanni Giannoni
Yohji Yamamoto WEBsite
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