That thread—of questioning received notions of menswear—was what strung together this MAN ménage à trois. Rory Parnell-Mooney regressed to his teenage years in a Catholic school, printing slogans like “Nancy Boy” (a song by the band Placebo) or “Repent” (no prizes for the origin of that) across clothes that riffed on the well-established uniform of dispossessed youth: hoodies, slouchy shirts, sweatshirting, ’90s nostalgia. You’ve doubtlessly seen it hanging around a shopping mall near you already.
Maybe that uniform has changed, though? That was the feeling you got with Charles Jeffrey, whose pierced, powdered, and pomaded band of dandy rebels careened about cardboard totems. They were the ones in the skirts but also in tucked and tweaked jackets (Jeffrey called them “nervous,” their tailoring reflecting the tics and tugs characteristic of anxiety attacks). It looked a mess. Here’s the clever thing: backstage it actually wasn’t.
The knitwear, especially, with its high-rise girdle of ribbing, chopped-out shoulders, or buckshot pointelle patch across the chest, is worthy not only of merit, but of attention. All these designers are. Get ready for impact.
Location Ambica P3
Words by Alexander Fury