For A/W 2010, we had crossed hockey-sticks at the helm of the runway and a flyer on every seat announcing 'The Hockey Horror DSquared2 Show'.
Dsquared2 always spell out their themes loud and clear well before they stick any clobber on the catwalk - sometimes deafeningly loud, and blindingly clear, granted, but it's nice not to have to fumble in the dark for adumbrated meanings woven into the seams. For A/W 2010, we had crossed hockey-sticks at the helm of the runway and a flyer on every seat announcing 'The Hockey Horror DSquared2 Show'. It's fair to say Dean and Dan Caten don't take themselves too seriously. Indeed, when the curtains flew open on the proscenium arch at the head of the runway to reveal bare-chested hockey players in a mock-up of Frank N. Furter's laboratory, it was precisely what they said on the box - a marriage of Rocky Horror Show glam and the All-American sportswear these Italian-based Canucks ironically do so very well. The clothes, luckily, leaned towards the latter rather than the former - camp, feather-festooned opening outfit, modelled by flamboyant Tokio Hotel frontman Bill Kaulitz, aside, this was a trip into familiar DSquared2 territory. Strip off the blood-splattered Frankenstein's monster styling and a few too many studs prickling through fabrics, and you were left with the classic menswear staples of white shirt, blue jeans and tailored jacket. As with so many shows, DSquared2's had a military air - a cadet tunic with brass buttons in grey melton wool, or the same fabric crafted into broad bombers and neat leather-trimmed motorcycle jackets. Instead of shearling, we had astrakhan tricked out in a knee-length overcoats or trimming the lapels on a comparatively sober black overcoat. Indeed, ignoring the occasional appearance of chain-mail scarves, silver lurex and a few too many sequinned evening pieces (just plain wrong right now, especially for men), this was one of the soberest outings for DSquared2 in a long time. Again, it was writ large on the invite - 'Black, Black, Black, Black and maybe Black!' The tailoring looked grown-up and genuinely attractive, while the sell-out denim was revitalised to sell another season via the addition of embroidered chains dangling from pockets. If ones' eyes rolled when shlocky horror show studded and printed hockey-inspired graphics cropped up on some of the more outre leather outerwear (knee-length nappa sports shirt with bloodied Hannibal Lecter mask applique, anyone?) rest assured, they were show pieces only. Those collection-defining graphics are no doubt destined to water-down at warp-speed into the duo's savvy slogan tees.