The last show of a fashion week always has the dubious honour of defining what came before it. It can neatly sum everything up or in the case of New York and Marc Jacobs, it can also instantly render them trivial and inconsequential. What did come before today? This season, with the show being all by itself on the schedule - Ralph Lauren showed yesterday, Calvin Klein is waiting for Raf - helped emphasise its singularity. The thousands of twinkling lights suspended from the Hammerstein Ballroom’s grand ceiling were magical and deceivingly soothing. But then the first beats from Underworld’s Born Slippy came on and the grand plan was unveiled; Jacobs was throwing a rave and what is the point of a rave if not forgetting and letting go?
Ziggy’s platforms were back, this time even higher and more glam, worn with Harajuku style over-the-knee socks. Rainbow dreadlocks were piled up high and Jacobs’ cyber punk manga club kids stomped around in every sequinned shade to be found on the Coat of Many Colours - so tight and short and shiny, Dolly Parton would be proud. Kiki Willems’ opening jacket, tiny, nipped in the waist and puffy on the shoulders, shimmered like Rococo wallpaper on an illegal substance or two and set the tone for what was to follow. Everything followed: leg-of-mutton sleeves, lacy – and racy - nighties and baby-dolls, disco queen sequins and feathers, Art Deco brocades and Camden Town zebra prints. Velvet bombers tripping with rainbow and butterfly embroidery were followed by sober camo prints for the comedown. Military parkas and metallic snakeskin, velvet and leather patchwork coats offered some cover but the party did not seem to be stopping anytime soon. In the immortal words of Underworld, mega mega mega.
