Stomp! Did you hear that? I’m pretty convinced that everyone outside New York City heard or, at least, felt the vibrations from tonight’s pounding Alexander Wang show. iLoveMakonnen’s I Don’t Sell Molly No More may have been on the pre-show soundtrack but what Wang sent out on the runway was very much of the instantly addictive variety. The vast Pier 36 was transformed into a dark, rather oppressive and appropriately crowded subway tunnel, the Prodigy came on and out walked black on black on metal-studded black. Metal, yes. Heavy? Not in the slightest. The tailoring was sharp, the styling to the point and there was something rather wistful and sweet about the way a dress hem skipped around Jamie Bochert’s body or a girl in just an Aran knit sweater, faded velvety jeans and super platform boots.
Trust Alexander Wang to completely change the conversation in one swift stroke. Doesn’t all that Seventies talk sound a bit hippie-dippie to you now? From a tailored blazer with velvet lapels over cropped schoolboy trousers to little body-skimming dresses outlined with small metal bearings (they brought to mind last season’s pearl-lined Altuzarra collection although these gathered up into chokers at the neckline) to, again studded, silk robe and pyjama sets (Catherine McNeil wore a particularly good one) to the leather, a lot of simple, ink jet black leather. The monochromatic palette only gave way briefly to some red plaid (of course) and the aforementioned white Aran sweaters and jeans and to show some skin underneath those nude chainmail dresses that seemed light as a feather. By the time Wang ran up and down the runway in his own plaid shirt you could hear the orders coming through for thick-soled Dr Martens and their like. They’re great for stomping down icy city pavements, you know.
