Rather than rows of benches, white cots were lined up through the space for Yohan Serfaty’s Summer 2013 Y.Project presentation. Entitled ‘Parasomnia,’ the mise-en-scene reflected this idea of sleep disorder and exhaustion. Even the slightly aggressive ambient music and the shuffling of our feet signaled restless sleep. Wearing perforated eye masks, the models lay still in the beds while press and buyers wandered through the rows taking pictures over their sleeping heads and close up details of the clothes. With the stillness of their positions, we walked through what was something between a performance and an installation, or like a hospital ward during nap hour. A fashion conscious ward it would be, with bandage jersey wrapped feet for those not wearing Serfaty’s great zip up boots, and a restrained pallet of black, white and shades of grey.
Layers of leather and linen outerwear were worn zipped up and fastened, or over lightweight knits and asymmetrical shirts. Detail in the pockets was special, either folding over on themselves or hidden behind a flap held closed with a zipper. The same detail zipping through a high straight collar opened up for a hood. Metal hook and eye closures replaced buttons at the jackets fronts, and elongated the silhouette by separating and dropping at the waistline to reveal an extra panel. One great linen look, a long vest over an even longer shirt worn over pants, summed up the proportions of this season’s story. And, besides the linen and various leather qualities, an optically entrancing knit gave the offering a dose of texture.
Suddenly an alarm clock went off, loud and startling, and signaled the models to rise up, sleepily, and make their way through the crowd. It was nice to see the clothes in motion. And it was easy to lose track of each model as they made it to the cleared out runway space, so much they mixed into the crowd. This is perhaps a sign of the collection success, how easily Serfaty’s timeless designs ease themselves into the world. One might hardly notice a model walking discretely, as they were, out the door and on with their day.
- Lee Anderson, Parisian Correspondent