Jeremy Scott, fashion’s very own court jester, chose an inside joke as his ruse this season at Moschino, and, ooh, it had a delicious edge. He mocked his peers who won’t stop whining about their — handsomely compensated — workload. “The fashion system has sped up so much that, this time, I didn’t have time to finish my work,” Scott teased backstage before the show. “All I have to show is my sketches.”
Naturally, that wasn’t true. Scott’s collection was more than complete. It was mega-merchandised with clothes, shoes, bags, jewelry and hats galore — to the extent that perhaps a few exits stood to be trimmed. The punch line landed within the first few looks — white dresses and suits scribbled in and mocked up with color and print as if they were still two-dimensional drawings on a piece of paper. The silhouettes were on the dressed up side of the Moschino spectrum, derived from the Eighties with prim suits and nouveau riche poufs. Some were tied off with bows. All were worn with flattened boater hats and tights embroidered with fancy-crude black scribbles.
Like any good performer, Scott sticks to a well-hewn formula: warm ‘em up with daywear that makes
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