Under the incarceration status quo, we’re as knowledgeable re the softening of the ministerial grip, as we are with the future of catwalk crazes and high-street collections, never mind what drapery to don during Zoom gather-ettes and Skype sauvignon-sess-es.
Has Spring/Summers been skirted? Does one now only focus on Autumn/Winter looks? Will we be able to saunter through the doors of Selfridges before the clocks go forward? Perhaps the new fashion normal will flip flop and mutate into Winter/Spring and Summer/Autumn – or, Karl Lagerfeld forbid, just singular session by session, gingerly Jimmy Coo-ing from cashmere duffle coat to linen shirt – thus four virtual London Fashion Weeks, until all seamstresses, runway-storks, and garment-gurus encounter a humble vaccine prick. A heftier headache than remortgaging Necker Island.
Capsule wardrobes, Air Jordan 1 High OG Dior sneakers (Dior’s collaboration with the Jordon Brand, trainers at a mere £1800 a pop), and Off-White, Louis Vuitton, and Fendi silk face masks are the regalia-receptive-rabble’s present stimulants – unprecedented, and somewhat as absurd as perspex divides in situ at The Wolseley post lockdown. But even more unforgivable than aforementioned or being advised to consume disinfectant-daiquiris to combat the respiratory-assassin; white socks with any getup other than sportswear, Crocs (need-I-say-more, but I will), and jeans with more overhang than a Schiaparelli couture BAFTA gown.
Style Whitewash
Would sporting cricket-pads, a tennis skirt, or maybe a Jane Fonda-esque headband be acceptable for your weekly team meeting? How about exhibiting a T.M.Lewin shirt and tie combo (green-about-to-retch-emoji-face) attending a drum’n’bass bash at Farringdon’s sovereign night-haunt Fabric? Or perchance dressing head to Grenson-Archie-Classic-Signature-Brogue in PPE while knocking back pints at your local boozer (one-can-but-dream-emoji) of a Friday night post-apocalyptic era be seen as tolerable… Quite. White socks have a place, and it’s not paired any threads other than ya PE kit. Chuckle Brothers meets aspiring-handlebar-moustache-brigade/New-Age-Traveler-sad-epic-fail is the only statement sports socks echo outside of the squash court. And if by chance your white tootsie-covers are leaning towards shades of HMS Belfast – bin ‘em you filthy vagabond.
Not Such A Snappy Dresser
Luke Day (GQ’s Fashion Director) was clearly recovering from a stroke when curating May’s Saturation Point fashion spread – seven pairs of Crocs at last count. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder – but not for these foam resin Jesus-creepers. Slipping your feet in a couple of desiccated Blobfish has greater appeal. They have the same aesthetic pull as three-week old roadkill. Said gator-galoshes block more than genitalia-grapples – social distancing is knee-jerk and well advised. There’s no excuse for the above mentioned unsightly monstrosities in any home situation, work environment, or public place – EVER.
Denim Disasters
Skinny-Jeans – it’s all in the name. If you can’t put the fork down, don’t.
