We’re living in an upside-down world. Of burning cities and drowned towns. Of leaders who’ve made enemies of our friends, and friends of our enemies. Of the contraction and elimination of basic human rights. It hardly seems the time for a chic little skirt suit, or a neat crewneck and cords, or a 1950s cocktail number with a sweet pair of pumps, even if many of us who remember the Marc Jacobs of another era long for such simple things. No—actually, now’s a time for fashion grandstanding.
That’s the message I took from the designer’s show at the New York Public Library tonight. Jacobs was playing in the same key of extreme hyperbole as he was last season. By exaggerating proportions with what might’ve been foam insets in sweaters and what definitely were oddly placed darts on pants. By flattening some skirts so they conjured cut-out paper dolls (echoes of an iconic Comme des Garçons show from days gone by) and inflating others to look like oddly shaped rocks (a friend used the word staunch, and it fits). And by adding pillowy volumes to dresses of the trapeze and hourglass varieties. That some of it called back to the aforementioned earlier Jacobs eras only made the amplifications more piquant.
Jacobs prefers not to speak to the press at his shows these days; instead he prepares notes. This season’s began with the word “courage” and ended with a kind of plea. “With precious freedom we dream and imagine without limitation… not to escape from reality but to help navigate, understand, and confront it, exploring through curiosity, conviction, compassion, and love.”
Jacobs has more conviction in his little finger than some designers have in their entire bodies. Consider the giant boots whose tips curled up like elves’ shoes, or the evening heels with surreally long points—that kind of outrageous footwear takes real courage, but I’m more interested in his powers of persuasion. He conjured allusions to women both fictional and real here; my fellow editors saw Betty Boop, the Queen of Hearts, and Marie Antoinette, though I’d bet there were as many references as there were people in the room. Everybody sees something different. That fits with the soundtrack; Shazam told me it was “Einstein on the Beach,” a piece of music which is as random and repetitive as dreams, and one that Jacobs has used more than once before and as recently as last season.
There’s no making sense of dreams, their fantastical aspects are actually essential to their appeal, but I did wonder about the sequined dots covering the models’ lips. Maybe they were another one of Jacobs’ messages: The world’s hanging by a thread. Friends, let’s use our voices.
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