With their swept-back hair and swept-up eye makeup, Rick Owens' infeasibly attenuated tribe of women were an uncompromising vision of female power. Who were they, with their long, zigzag-patterned legs; asymmetric warrior wraps; bared arms; and intense hip-accentuated forward gait? "A sect of nuns," he said. "Glamorous nuns, with inner discipline."
That's Owens on a concept level, the one he believes in as a way of life, rather than a passing seasonal whim. The amazing thing, though, is that what might read as an insider tract, intelligible only to the initiated, is actually a wide-open book for a far broader fashion church. Look more closely, and Owens' way of showing is really a methodical demonstration of a jacket collection that comes in so many permutations that it can appeal to hard-core goths, working urbanites of all ages, and women with plenty of money to lavish on fur. As an outerwear specialist, he has an answer to puffers (down-filled wraps), biker jackets (slick to the ribs, and zippered up one side), hoodies (conceptual versions with geometric horn appliqués), and fur vests (kangaroo at the less expensive end, full-length mink at the ultra).
Beneath all this there were dippy, asymmetrical jersey skirts bunched into layered folds in front and a well-thought-out display of accessories: gloves encircled with fur tufts, wedge boots (most directionally in tan leather), and, on each look, those zigzag tights-cum-leggings. Ignore the apparent weirdness of Owens' point of view, and this could be seen as another of fashion's methodically commercial one-look collections, strategized to spotlight the house top-sellers as well as the best of them.