Fashion seems to have a fascination with discomfort. Crippling torsos with corsetry, shackling the legs with hobble skirts and stretching tendons to breaking-point with higher-than-high heels: these have been part of the fashion lexicon for decades, even centuries, and are not prone to change. Bless seemed to be on a similar sadistic kick as their show was the very definition of uncomfortable - albeit psychological rather than merely physical. After waiting an interminable eternity in a crowded, dark street in the Marais, then in a crowded courtyard, we were finally herded like bleating lambs to the slaughter up - you guessed it - a very crowded staircase. Only that was actually the label's 'Nothingneath' show. On closer inspection, the crowd on the staircase was a little too good-looking and oddly dressed to be mere attendees. The cold, glazed and slightly mocking stares of the models, half-smirking, half-bored and almost challenging you to hate the clothing, made for distinctly disquieting viewing: I certainly had no wish to be in close proximity to them for any period of time. As for the clothes... I hardly noticed them at all, so astutely was I avoiding catching the menacing mannequins' eyes.Maybe the point was to feel as if you were beneath nothing. Maybe the point was to debunk the fashion convention of the observed and the observers. Maybe the point was the very event as opposed to the clothing. But frankly, to me, it all felt a little pointless.