If the Central Saint Martins’ MA show can be judged as a projection of London’s menswear talents, aesthetics, visions, then sportswear and elegant athleticism still troubles the capital like no other. Firmly taking the mantle from Kim Jones - though recent movements at Dunhill might encourage a return? - current proponent of all things casually conceptual, Christopher Shannon moves away from the sundrenched pastel patchworks and collaged camo of Spring to tackle tribal.
A natural fit considering the way in which gang colours and terrace tracksuits constitute today’s street troubling tribes, Shannon broadened his vision to overleap the pulsating Balearics of Spring and land amidst the photojournalism of Pieter Hugo and Sirkka-Liisa Konttinen. At first pieces deployed the collection’s wordly reference with a subtle hand – panelled shirting, sweatshirts and down-filled Macs segmented into fur, aertex and depressed quilting in deep crepuscular blacks and inky navy, a spare, spartan representation of the way in which “old track tops that have ended up in landfill sites are worn by tribes”.
Graphic black and white prints, ears of corn and thick abstract floral squiggles kicked off a more literal address of Shannon’s Peruvian influences that continued to take in intricate embroidery. At first peppering shirting with a singular stripe at the chest before blossoming to full, tasselled panels and flap-down pockets christening glistening, patent rucksacks, the undulating, fluted forms progressed to inform fluted, Balenciaga ruffles.
Spiralling around trackpants and tiered to infuse brutal rude boy shirting with purposeful hyper-femininity, Shannon – much like JW this morning – tempered the effeminate with his customary cast of charged-up streetboys and a hard, crisp palette of navy, white and lilac.
images by Duilio Marconi.
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