I’m with her! That’s a stance that a lot of designers are taking this season. Not with Hilary per say, but with women in general. We reached peak fashion-does-feminism in New York, where you couldn’t move for a gimmicky t-shirt or hashtag, but back in London, designers offered a more authentic, more believable, less cynical take on women-for-women. Molly Goddard has always mused on how women see themselves, each other and the world. She’d considered that more keenly than ever for A/W 17, commenting in her show notes, 'The importance of being able to express yourself, a belief central to this collection, is now more vital than ever.' So how do Goddard’s girls want to express themselves right now? With joy and passion and joie de vivre, it seems. This was an ode to the good times - there was the best mad party dress I’ve seen for a long time on the runway (no mean feat given that London designers do great work with the eccentric evening wear). Goddard’s was blue and acidic and enveloped the wearer with tiers and ruffles like some great cake.
Goddard’s clothes often look like children’s wear, sized up for adults. She’d made more moves into daywear this season, no doubt a commercial pressure. This followed the same path - sweet pedal pushers, bright leggings, ballet flats, jumpers. Some were more successful than others, when presented in the context of Goddard’s world they felt charming, when out in the world on their own they may not fare so well - some could have been more flattering. That said, her dresses and skirts were glorious as ever. Models looked so supremely comfortable in their looks. That sounds like a small victory, but at fashion week one gets so used to seeing girls struggling in heels or awkwardly trying to carry their clothing. Goddard’s girls looked joyful and at ease. After taking their turn on the runway, they sat at two equally well-dressed tables in the centre of the room for wine and food. They laughed, gossiped and smiled. I thought of the many lucky lucky women who can afford to enjoy Goddard’s gorgeous pieces and also wear them to laugh, gossip and smile at such dinner parties. My next-door neighbour, a fashion show virgin, beamed as he surveyed the transformation that had occurred in the Tate Tanks where the show took place; 'It’s like a happy bunker, far far away from Trump isn’t it?'