London Fashion Week: Ashish and Andrew Majtenyi Fall 2009
Here for a breathless ten minutes, haven’t even made it to the registration desk, and already two mussily cool girls with wicked shoes and SLRs have asked me to pose for their street style blogs. Ah, yes. Welcome to Fashion Week, the London way.
Whether it’s Bond Street or Brick Lane, street style rules Londontown. But early on in a chilly Day One, there are still more eager snappers than camera-worthy subjects. In the press lounge, editors and assistants are dressed in stark, monochromatic contrast to the pure white décor. (For me, the all-dark thing is a way of mourning a night of sleep lost on the red-eye.) I want to scoop up all the Jo Malone vanilla candles, but settle for a glass of dry white instead. Don’t judge—in my defense, the Brits are famous for drinking as early as they do oft.
A ramble around the Estethica exhibition in the tent, which is parked on the sloping lawns of the British Museum of Natural History, reveals a couple of gems among the generally rough (if fair) trade that is the eco-fashion industry. Goodone (goodone.co.uk) makes colour-blocky, body-con knitwear out of recycled and sustainable fabrics (bonus: one of the designer’s assistants turns out to be a Haligonian and FASHION fan). And sponsor Monsoon handed out canvas tote bags, pretty and so necessary.
With the help of (who else?) a street style photog (altamiranyc.blogspot.com) and his English pal, I risk the tube—and with it, lung and limb, as the crowds are like a Rolling Stone concert in 1969—to go to the circus. Rather, Cirque at the Hippodrome, the massively cool double-decker venue for the Ashish show. It was a riotous, perfect intro to LFW. How to explain the clothes? Imagine mixing the hottest pink and acid green, zebra stripes and leopard spots, platforms and pom-poms…and that was just the first look. As far as things you might actually be induced to put on? Well, there was a fun pair of American flag shorts (blah blah Obama effect) and a grey-marl sweater festooned with knit roses, then another with marching band-style fringed shoulders. It was anti-fashion at its most fun.
The show was packed with exceedingly bright young things. With dizzying colour combos everywhere I looked, Ashish suddenly seemed much less bizarre.
Exiting, I overhear this precious exchange between two art-school-ish scenester types. One, complaining about the proportions in his nu-grunge layering: “Don’t you hate when the washing machine does this weird stuff to your clothes? Like, this shirt for example, used to be so much longer than this other one. And then I washed it, and it came out shorter.”
The other: “Yeah…that’s happened to me too! Did you wash it in hot water?”
“Yeah…I might have. Do you think that might be why?”
“Yeah, might be. I mean I’ve heard you’re not supposed to wash things hot.”
Wow, I think, and then, wait—it’s probably just that famous British wit! But when I turn around, my open amusement is met with kohl-eyed, drop-dead-serious stares. Okay, then. Better luck next cycle.
In the evening, a tough call: get a sneak peek at the next 25 years of British fashion, at the Central Saint Martins MA show? Or support a fellow Canadian, Andrew Majtenyi? True patriot love wins the day—especially when we find out the show is actually being held at Canada House.
First, though, it’s a must-stop at the Dover Street Market, which is not a market—more like the world’s coolest shop. Owned and curated by Rei Kawakubo, it stocks everything from Comme des Garçons (duh) to Stephen Jones hats to hand-picked art pieces. And right now, in the basement, there’s a gloriously trashy boudoir display devoted to Katie Grand’s spanking-new Love magazine (lovemagazine.co.uk).
On the top floor, a sweet salesgirl pencils out a perfect map…to the wrong Canada House, the High Commission actually, where a bemused security guard looks at me like I am crazy woman when I ask him where the catwalk is. Lucky for me, every fashion show starts an hour late, so I still make it to the right square (Trafalgar, not Grosvenor!) in time for a heartening flute of champagne.
Majtenyi (andrewmajtenyi.com), a Toronto expat and London Central School grad, is a real ladies man, making what he calls ”couture-inspired sportswear.” That meant texturized plaids, geometric-cut trenches and dresses with carefully frayed edges, all in very English-autumnal shades of pumpkin and sage.
After the show, I trip over cobblestones in the tightly wound laneways of posh Knightsbridge to join Majtenyi, his models and their suitors at the Vendôme Lounge (“somewhere behind Harrods,” was the helpful direction I received when l realized I was hopelessly lost). Never mind the designer’s own modest—okay, boring—attire, judging by the cluster of Louboutined beauts in the designer’s booth, his well-tailored womenswear is a welcome import.
ALL FALL 2009
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