Yohji Yamamoto is on the mood boards of too many designers at the moment. Look around and everything is, if you'll excuse the pun, turning Japanese. It’s the case in London. It's even the case in Paris. There's a certain irony to seeing Yohji rip-offs just a few hours before seeing Yohji's actual show. Maybe he'd picked up on that too. His invite, a crumpled and torn piece of silver paper, encouraged us to 'Have a Nice Yohji', perhaps a play on his current popularity and ubiquity.
The irony of that optimism when clashed with the sombre, and even sinister tone of the collection (see the stitches and bruises painted onto the model's faces) wasn't lost. He'd beaten up his collection just as he'd beaten up his boys. Suits looked like they'd just survived a fight and then been hastily stitched back together. Frayed panels hung off the back of jackets, while some jumpers and tailoring pieces looked like they'd been made from two different garments swiftly and haphazardly stitched together. It's all familiar territory for Yohji, he is the master of deconstruction and of beauty in distress and decay. So maybe the aggression was about staking a claim, about showing the the young upstarts he's still got plenty of fighting spirit. 'Have a nice day, punk!' one would like to imagine him declaring, after delivering a knock-out blow.