Emilia Wickstead is something of a photography geek, and her previous collections have taken their cues from the likes of Louise Dahl-Wolfe, Erwin Blumenfeld, and Lee Miller. This season, however, she turned her roving lens—so to speak—toward Garry Winogrand, whose arresting photographs of daily life in New York serve as a striking, extraordinary document of the city’s ever-evolving social tapestry throughout the second half of the 20th century. “He captured the style of the ’60s and ’70s beautifully, but also women from every age group, the thrill and the vibrancy of the nightlife, the ache of heartbreak,” Wickstead said at a preview. “It feels like a bygone era, but there’s also something about it that feels like a precursor to reality TV.” (In that sense, it also served as a natural follow-up to her recent resort look book, which featured the women of today’s New York wearing her clothes on sidewalks and brownstone stoops.)
If there’s one thing Wickstead is known for, however, it’s her magpie’s eye for color and print—and so her collection took Winogrand’s largely black-and-white images and blasted them out in rich, jewel-toned Kodachrome, like Judy Garland stepping into Oz. (Also percolating in the designer’s mind was the work of the German American photographer Evelyn Hofer, with many of Wickstead’s bold color combinations originating in her images.) Perhaps not coincidentally, given the collection’s cinematic air, the show was staged in the subterranean bowels of the Covent Garden building that once housed the London Film Museum—which served as an unusually shadowy and industrial setting for Wickstead. But what followed was a brilliantly unbuttoned, sensual collection, with a darker and very delicious glamour that felt like a new pivot for the designer.
It began with a trio of Wickstead standards—a two-piece suit, a full-skirted square-neckline dress, and a ravishing jacquard silk coat—before quickly veering into unexpected territory. A gorgeous butterscotch yellow strapless dress was cut from a silk moiré, then topped with a loose layer of sheer organza that lent it a tactile, off-kilter appeal; workwear-inspired heavy denim pieces were cut as boxy jackets and rippling skirts, then paired with knee-high stockings for a playful blend of masculine and feminine. This season, Wickstead worked with the stylist Harry Lambert for the first time—whose work with Harry Styles and Emma Corrin, most famously, takes a somewhat iconoclastic approach to gender—and it was interesting to see the alchemy between the two, given they might make for something of an unexpected pairing on paper. From a distance, Look 10—a fluffy mohair cable-knit cardigan, a white button-down, loose pleated trousers, and a pair of tasseled loafers—appeared to suggest Wickstead had branched out into menswear for the first time. But those trousers were cut from the same jacquard as the coat seen earlier, textured with a ditzy floral for a softer, sweeter touch.
On another corner of the mood board were images of “teddy girls”—the female counterpart to the original ’60s teenage rebels, known for their natty suits and Brylcreem-ed ducktail hair—captured by the legendary film director Ken Russell. “I loved the way the teddy girls dressed in their bomber jackets and denim, regardless of gender,” Wickstead said. It’s particularly interesting given how much you might associate Wickstead with the flouncy femininity of her signature cloque gowns. But it does speak to how the designer has become increasingly confident to explore a full range of categories over the past few years, from bridal to homewares, and also the presence of her excellent tailoring, which has actually been there even longer—if you’ve been looking closely enough.
If Wickstead’s intention was, as she said in her show notes, to weave a story with an eclectic cast of New York characters—matriarchs and musicians, artists and academics—then she achieved it. Her greatest success, though, was to venture into new territory without alienating her core customer. There were still plenty of ladylike dresses and separates in the mix, just styled with an additional touch of deshabille glamour; a strap hanging off the shoulder, say, or a quilted coat cinched at the waist with an asymmetric belt. Arguably the most seductive pieces were a final series of ankle-skimming gowns decorated with shimmering jelly sequins in lime and burgundy and chocolate brown, wrapping things up on a high note of unabashed razzle-dazzle. It was Wickstead through and through.
