The nightclub is an age-old obsession of fashion folk. Those sticky floors, pumping speakers and colourful lights have inspired more than their fair share of collections. Calvin Klein, Halston and the like found their inspiration on the dancefloor of Studio 54. Gareth Pugh got it in the clubs in the East End of London. Leigh Bowery and Stephen Jones on the dancefloor of Taboo, and their getups and circle - the Club Kids - have gone on to inspire many more. Kim Jones aptly showed an ode to eighties hero Christopher Nemeth at Louis Vuitton yesterday, the day before today's Maison Margiela show (now the house is under the direction of John Galliano the 'Martin' has been dropped). Galliano himself was a Taboo fan. Maybe it was those heady days that were being harked backed to at today's show - a celebration of the freedom, beauty and possibility of the club. That said, Galliano is still finding his feet at the house, so his involvement in today's show is unclear and arguably minimal.
This was a flirtatious show. It was a tribute to that magic club moment around the last song at the end of the night. It offered a dream world where you never face reality - the lights never come on. You're forever in those final minutes where everything still sparkles, the air is still full of potential and your new partner is still beautiful. That's the best mood in the world and it was the mood running through each and every piece. A sense of club mischief was suggested in those naked-look pieces, flesh-tone tops that made it look like the wearer wore nothing. They conjured up images of boys sneaking off to the bathroom for illicit affairs, only to return half-dressed, partly in their lover's garb, partly in their own. Then there were the show pieces - the dazzling, dramatic, glittering disco-wear one saves for nights on the town. Styles were decidedly retro, harking back to the seventies; see those flares and nostalgic prints. Even the shoes captured the mood, cuban heels that made the wearer strut and swagger. Did it feel Margiela, despite the new appointment and despite all that frivolity? Yes. Sure, the house will no doubt embrace more opulence in the coming seasons, but the way that finery had been disrupted - see the visible linings on tailoring or the way the stitching and collars remained unfinished - felt true to MMM codes.
Thinking about it, the disco vibe was hinted to from from the start. The invite - a minimal slab of white card, plain like you'd expect from Margiela - came with a swiftly scrawled message under the seat number. 'Call me', it said, turning the card into a nightclub napkin - ephemera from a night of romance and mischief. This was Margiela, subverted and sexed-up. We're being seduced.
