Oh, God! “The coalescence of genders.” Show-note hell strikes again. And all in the name of welcoming a new rider on the Jil Sander roundabout. Shame he couldn’t stay on the horse.
Rodolfo Paglialunga made such a pleasant splash at Vionnet some seasons ago—enough that his appointment at Jil Sander, erstwhile temple of discipline and rigor in contemporary fashion, caused at least one head to scratch. Maybe that’s why he was so insistent that a deep plunge into the archives had shaped this collection. But if it was precision that defined Jil Sander’s work, that was exactly what was missing here. There were fit issues throughout. Clunk was probably the best word for the drop-crotch culottes with the out-of-reach pockets. Same with the apron/skirt wrapped over whatever was underneath it, meaning that there was odd bunching when what was underneath had an elasticized waistband.