“To break free of the gloomy present, I hope to present a bright and light future,” read Rei Kawakubo’s single-line statement accompanying her SS24 Comme des Garçons show. It’s a simple message that came through in the refreshingly concise collection of 19 body-defying wearable sculptures, each one turbo-charged with a rainbow of colours, and swaddling masses of fabric. Some of them looked like they were constructed from children’s bedspreads, others came with printed collages of Regency-era portraiture resembling camouflage, wrapped up in big bows — perhaps a nod to the cumbersome (and equally restrictive) silhouettes of the eighteenth-century. Look 16, with its giant red collar, red ruffles and warped polka skirt, seemed to resemble Minnie Mouse. And almost every look had flashed of Barbiecore pink, exaggerated on some with swirls of kitschy ruffles. The trainers and boots worn by every model were covered in découpage of saccharine stickers and bright, fizzy childlike objects ostensibly glue-gunned onto every possible surface. Looks were rounded out with neon-bright wigs, some of which were completely solid blocks of rubber, and others hand-painted as if a little girl had decided to give her doll a makeover.
The intent behind Comme des Garçons’ collections is almost always cryptically guarded. That said, Rei Kawakubo’s reticence only adds to our ability to elicit hidden messages from her work and seek out deeper meaning. Looking at this lineup, it seemed to parody the cultural vogue for infantilising women, perhaps implying that it can physically restrict them. The kitschy pinks, the swaddled silhouettes, and the sickly sweet more-is-more layering all seemed to suggest something darker beneath the surface — only heightened by the soundtrack, which could only be described as a woman’s incessant shrieking, perhaps some kind of ritualistic mourning cry. Is the sentimental nostalgia for the trappings of girlhood empowering or limiting? Are women looking at their childhood dolls and fairy-tale princesses as a way of retreating from the realities of womanhood? Or, as Rei’s statement suggests, is this overthinking a collection that is simply joyous in its unbridled colour, texture and shape? At the end of the show, the models waddled out into the darkness, the glare of a hundred iPhones lighting up to show them standing en garde, a terrifying gang of clown-like giants.
Whatever the thesis, these are ‘clothes’ that physically take up space, a radical message at a time in which women are continually being diminished in some way or another, whether it’s by draconian laws, abuses of power or deeply embedded societal misogyny. Sure, these models can’t sit down or move their arms, but the idea is there. The only truth that we can universally acknowledge is that Rei Kawakubo’s independence is what allows for these surreal, brazen displays of design that offer a radical antidote to the widespread commercialism in the broader fashion landscape. These may not be clothes, in the traditional sense of the term, but they do have a message: a woman in control of her own creativity and success can be and do whatever she wants — just look at Rei.
