Christopher Kane Menswear Fall Winter 2013 Ready-to-Wear Collection


Christopher Kane treats his boys right. His Spring ready-to-wear collection, with its Boris Karloff as Frankenstein tees, its shower cap party dresses (Kane’s nod to Psycho) and jelly shower curtain ring skirts was a lugubrious romp, and Kane was kind enough to give the men that same “collectible” satisfaction. Kane is a devilish designer, in intelligence and sick taste, and it’s come to be the case that you can spot a Kane classic-to-be the moment you see it. His Fall 2009 screaming primates are a sound example. In 2013 they remain the stuff of street wear legend.

It shouldn’t work, but it does, and believe it, he has those same sensations of aesthetic inertia. Where his woman strove for elegance in a bolted dress the color of Pepto Bismol, his man attained a hipster edge, ironically, with razor-sharp tailoring, most notable in the outerwear. But there was a dichotomy within that dichotomy – at one moment, dressed in a cropped quilted moto, a Creature from the Black Lagoon tee beneath, drain pipe jeans and black velvet slippers, Kane’s man was absolute Leader of the Pack. In a dark navy knit and thick purple scarf, he was Dead Poets Society (A modern scholar, note the leather stamped iPad size bag). The whole enterprise leads to where the two would meet – at the drive-in, of course. The message is youth, but refracted through the Christopher Kane prism, youth always come out the other end tinged with an almost poetic, relatable angst.

The animal prints here were particularly brilliant. A black and white cheetah print coat was almost haunting in its quasi silent-film glow. There was something even slightly off-putting about the white socks worn under velvet slippers, slippers monogramed with the bust of Bela Lugosi’s Dracula, no less. It’s clear what to expect. Dracula, Frankenstein and the Creature from the Black Lagoon are going to sell out in no-time. And expect to see them on the backs of the likes of Kanye West and Rihanna. Those two gravitate toward “collectible” prints like a moth to a flame, and their fans are always quick follow.

Only question is: Where’s The Wolfman?