His prehistory was packed with Hanna-Barbera animal prints on brilliant primaries and jokey chewed-hem skirts and tops.
Luckily for an early morning start on London Fashion Week's fifth day, you really don't need to worry about deciphering a Jeremy Scott show. Subtlety is not, and never has been, his forte - and S/S 2010 was no exception. From the stone tablet-style invite, to the bone-printed Longchamps bags on seats, to the rousing Flintstones theme as an opener, it was evident that Scott was taking us back in time, to the primordial soup and the very origin of man. Well, kind of. Jeremy Scott's clothes have a cartoonish quality, peculiarly American, born of Pop Art, pop music, excessive sugar intake and a childhood glued to television screens. His prehistory was packed with Hanna-Barbera animal prints on brilliant primaries and jokey chewed-hem skirts and tops. Swimsuits came with attached animal paws or tails, t-shirts were printed with the slogan Your Cave Or Mine' and models wore their hair tossed, tortured and leopard-sprayed, a bone deeply embedded in each in homage to Pebbles and Wilma. It was silly, unpretentious fun - but even at that level, it felt somewhat lacking. If you're unwilling to dress like a candy-crazed child on Halloween, or succumb to quite the degree of kawaii that Jeremy's Japanese fans adore, there was very little here. This is Scott's niche, of course, and very cosy he has made it - his inaugural London show celebrates the opening of Scott's shop in the capital. At the same time, I couldn't help but remember Scott's first subversive Paris shows ten years ago, when the designer shifted the boundaries of taste and spearheaded the eighties revival we are still in the thralls of today. This show was similarly questionable in taste, but challenging - or, for that matter, important? Forget it.