“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” That query, pulled from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, has escaped the realm of animation and reappeared in print, on the web (HotorNot), and dating apps. The implicit understanding is that fairness is judged by the male gaze. Avavav’s Beate Karlsson flipped the script at her fall presentation, where guests walked a runway flanked by female models on either side. “The idea of having the models be the guests,” she explained on a call, was to focus on the female gaze, which she feels is disproportionately acknowledged in an industry that mainly caters to women.
Imitation of Christ used a similar tactic back in 2001, but there the focus was on the role of model versus critic. At Avavav, Karlsson was thinking instead about the deification and vulnerability of a model on display in a fashion show. As a soundtrack she compiled snippets of male designers talking about the women they design for.
Karlsson, likes a slightly androgynous and Gothic look for herself, drew on her own style and experiences of dressing for men or to go out with female friends when creating the fall line up, which was tighter than some collections in the past. This was less because it was focused solely on womenswear, and was mainly because there was more and deeper focus on fewer ideas. The signature ribcage motif was reimagined in many ways—as a print, through slashing, as embroidery. Tights were worn over pumps as well as the brand’s distinctive Finger shoes. The bulbous form of the Larva bag was effectively translated into a kind of bubble skirt that felt like a distant cousin to the wired saucer skirts carried over from spring.
Overall, there was a tomboy quality to the styling, with neckties omnipresent. One was built into a top, while others were tied in pretty bows at the neck. True to Avavav’s streetwear roots were new pieces from Karlsson’s ongoing collaboration with Adidas. The logoed waistline of underwear was exposed, and what looked like a skirt made of sweats material was actually a skort, with an upside-down U shape gusset stitched in the middle of the hem. (Karlsson described them as a mashup of an A-line skirt and basketball shorts.) Elephant-leg pants were rebuilt with a “construction inside that is making it collapse in a more almost liquidy way,” the designer said.
Wings, which looked like the sides of a miniskirt, flared out from the hips of a slim pair of black trousers; another pinstriped pair that integrated a skirt was a feat of pattern making. The two-in-one feeling worked well with the kookier aspects of the collection, such as tissue paper-stuffed bras, crooked eyeglasses. With the opening of the Schiaparelli exhibition at the V&A later this month, Surrealism will once again be a topic of conversation. Perhaps a narrow, fur-look mohair chest-band is Karlsson’s equivalent of Meret Oppenheim’s fur-lined teacup. In any case, this Swedish designer isn’t content with the status quo. “Especially when I was younger, when I was dressing for men or with men in mind, [my approach] was just less personal, less confident, more like I was fitting into something,” Karlsson said. “When I dress for other women, somehow I just want to be more like a character, more unique and special.” By juxtaposing male and female tropes and discovering “interesting ways of shaping the body and silhouette,” Karlsson crafted a collection that delivered all of those qualities and more.
