It's hard to overstate the enduring popularity of street- and sportswear right now. For two seasons, fashion has been trying to convince the average woman to go the way of glamorous Eighties excess and embrace the sequin, big shoulder and sky high heel. But it's the sneaker and the track pant that endures. It turns out she just wants an easy shoe, a cosy hoodie and a loose, swooshy trouser to run around the city in.
Consider, for starters, the cult of Virgil Abloh, Paris's man of the hour. The city is plastered with posters for his new Off-White x Nike Air Jordan 1 and when the shoe was released at a concept shop yesterday, the fan frenzy got so hectic, it spilled over to his runway presentation much later that night. Invited guests, including this one, couldn't get near the door due to all the ruckus created by Virgil's stans. One journalist got hit in the head, another nearly run over by a car. It was pandemonium. And the root? The fierce popularity of Virgil's streetwear. The gatecrashers outside the venue no doubt would have been waiting to catch a glimpse of the technical knit women's Vapor Max shoes and Air Jordans he debuted in the show.
And then there's the arrival of Nike Unlaced, a style hub in which women for the first time will be able to buy their favourite men's sneakers in women's sizes, including Abloh's Jordans. The pop-up space seemed to generate far more interest on Instagram than the average catwalk show.
In the world of high fashion, sportswear is proving to have a longevity that transcends trend cycles, a fact made obvious by the amount of athletic-inspired clothing on show this week.
John Galliano's conceptual, oversized outerwear for Maison Margiela was a highlight. He wanted to explore the idea of dressing in haste, so he created fantastic, functional statement coats with techy references for fast movers: parkas, anoraks and hoodies in innovative textiles like iridescent foil and reflective flash sensitive fabric. His press notes described the idea of 'unconscious glamour' but the clothes were all speed, sport and performance, the mood underscored by the return of his chunky Security Margiela Sneakers (SMS.)
The trainer also made an appearance at Rick Owens, where the designer used the shoe to ground his bulbous, felt cashmere mini dresses, which he used as commentary on the politics of sex (and by proxy, fashion) in the age of #MeToo.
Sex, and its complications, has been an undercurrent running through Paris, whether on the catwalk, or during the between-shows gossip about fashion's own wave of Times Up. 'Clothes are communication and the message is often one of seduction, but to what results?' Owens asked. And while his clothes weren't obvious signifiers of sex in the way of Jacquemus' clingy knits or Saint Laurent's supercharged leather, sensuality in the bodily sense was still at play. To borrow Owens words, his padded dresses were 'raw and indirect.' His press notes elaborated, 'Some may call it anti-seduction. But what are the seduction rules and whose authority do I accept in defining them?'
As complex as that sounds, the footwear was remarkably straightforward: sleek, futuristic trainers in muted neutrals. They were a practical, sporty counterbalance to the conceptual clothes. They were also commercial catnip — the perfect gateway for Rick Owens fans looking for a slightly less expensive route into his world and the new piece for longtime loyalists to collect.
