The show began with the beep of a technical disturbance, and the first outfit, an abbreviated suit—leather briefs, leather cardigan jacket, matching leather booties—came in the color-bar stripe of old television test patterns. Do not adjust your set: Jeremy Scott is here to interrupt your regularly scheduled NYFW programming.
But as interruptions go, you could set your watch by Scott's. Every Wednesday of New York fashion week receives this familiar intervention. The crowd is reliably pound-for-pound the week's truest representation of on-the-street fashion obsession—versus jaded, editorial dutifulness. And you know to be prepared for the interminable wait for the celebrity front-row to finally file in (this time, Nicki Minaj and A$AP Rocky).
And then the collection. The accoutrements—Eugene Souleiman's bouffant wigs, Michel Gaubert's girl-group soundtrack bubbling over with "Lollipop" and "My Boyfriend's Back"—suggested the moment when the fifties met the sixties. But the clothes themselves were vintage Scott. His short, tight, and sugary designs, rarely looser than second skin and longer than barely there, are playbook by now. Despite his increasingly high-profile collaborators, key among them his stylist as of last season, Carlyne Cerf de Dudzeele, the designer seems immovably settled into his own idiom. There's no shortage of fans for it, as his presentations amply demonstrate, but the clockwork regularity of it makes you wonder why he feels a need to demonstrate it so amply. At fifty-five looks, his show was one of the longest of the week.
The news here came from a partnership with the great Pop artist Kenny Scharf, who worked with Scott on prints: glowering tribal-mask heads, Scharfian toothpaste-y squiggles, and cartoon faces. The show notes included a glowing quote from Scharf (calling the collaboration the "greatest, most fun thing ever," among other encomia). Clearly last season's unpleasantness over Scott's googly monster prints—allegedly lifted without permission from the work of Jim Phillips of Santa Cruz Skateboards and the subject of a lawsuit, reportedly now settled out of court—was not to be repeated. So some things do change for the better. A few pieces that looked like pages ripped straight from Scharf's sketchbook, cut and sewn, made a case for the rewards of responsibility.