Not since the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb precisely a century ago has Egypt — the ancient land of pharaohs and pyramids — been such a font of inspiration for designers. Rick Owens has been spending time there, so much so that he named his SS23 show after Edfu, the ancient Egyptian temple just outside of Luxor on the west bank of the Nile.
His last show took the same title, and was staged in the same courtyard of the Palais de Tokyo, where three giant globes were elevated to the heavens by machine-operated cranes, set alight, and then dropped in all their flaming glory into the vast courtyard fountain. But whereas that show conjured scenes of Armageddon, flaming suns crashing down to earth, and “the cycles of evil and useless destruction just repeating over and over since the beginning of time,” according to Rick — this show, by contrast, seemed to offer something optimistic, perhaps even hope. Divinely feminine, even.
The Art Deco fountain that typically forms the centrepiece of the designer’s show erupted into a giant splash, monumental in the way that pyramids are. After the fire comes the rain. After the apocalyptic vision of the patriarchy destroying the world, come seeds of rebirth emerging through mists of vapour.
The collection itself had a buoyant mood, full of bright yellows and fuschias; “jubilant colours that equal the power of black,” as Rick put it. What he described as a “jellyfish silhouette” appeared in bell-shaped — dare I say babydoll — dresses and jackets exploding into frilly flares of recycled tulle, one of which clocking in at over 200 metres of fabric. Could it be that Rick, fashion’s dark prince, could be acquiring a tooth for the sweet and saccharine?
Probably not. In his show notes, Rick explained that he was inspired by Theda Bara, a silent movie star who played Cleopatra, and the mythology of her self-invention as an Ohio girl turned exotic screen goddess. In other words: glamour! In many ways, one of Rick’s gifts is to put a finger to the wind and refract whatever direction its blowing in. Barbiecore pink? Frothy tulle dresses? Pantie-flashing micro-hemlines? Gowns as wide as doorways?
Sure, other designers have been riffing on those ideas, but only in Rick’s hands do they take on a subversive edge that renders them timeless. He did the same with puffer jackets a few years ago, exaggerating them to monstrous proportions that made them look like they ate every other coat in a department store. By toying with what’s percolating out there yet never veering from his vocabulary of apocalyptic beauty, Rick manages to parody trends and produce something masterful.
Besides, his materials are unlike anyone else’s. Cowhides collected from the detritus of the food industry, tanned with organic materials and natural glycerin, were almost like translucent chiffon, softly draped like mummie bandages. Petrol-puddle metallic leathers — almost like scarab beetles, the ancient Egyptian symbol of rebirth — were draped around the body like scrunched-up paper, forming elegantly sinuous gowns with incendiary slits reaching the hip.
The handful of high-shine black looks toward the end of the show were actually laquered strips of denim. Draped around the body in otherworldy volumes, his message is simple. As he put it: “The message is a vote for otherness — a departure from tasteful and perhaps narrow aesthetic conventions and maybe an encouragement to consider openmindedness in other areas outside of personal appearance.” Here’s hoping that life will imitate his art.
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Images via Spotlight