Zoe Gustavia Anna Whalen is a hands-on maker intent on creating collective mystical experiences. “My work often plays with the idea of a fashion show, a platform to actually express something that’s more of a genuine emotion and gathering people together in a space to witness something,” is how she put it backstage at the Performance Space in the East Village. In truth, it was difficult to bear witness in the dark. The black box of a room was lit only by candles, shrouding the clothes, though it was possible to discern that the designer was continuing to develop garments that incorporate historical elements like corsets and crinolines.
As frustrating as the lack of visibility was, Whalen took her audience out of time and away from distractions. Speaking of the soundtrack—an original score by Silas Edgar, whose performance made use of theremin and synthesis—the designer said “you can actually feel it in your body.” There was also the clank of metal and the smell of candles. The gloom was symbolic, tied to the show’s theme, which Whalen said was “a reckoning with the weight of the world and darkness.” That sounds dirge-like, but the experience was also about the supportiveness of community and an ever burning flame. The Smiths lyric, “There is a light and it never goes out” came to mind.
The proximity of fabric to flame, the designer’s preoccupation with what the show notes described as “the inherent violence in ‘valor,’” plus her backstage mention of Joan of Arc’s martyrdom as “something quite dark and tragic” rather than a thing to be revered, recalled another Smiths song, “Big Mouth Strikes Again,” with the unforgettable lines, “Now I know how Joan of Arc felt / As the flames rose to her Roman nose / And her Walkman started to melt.” This season Whalen worked with artist Vasaris Balzekas to create medieval-style armor out of vintage silver plate. A waif-like male model wearing this protective gear had a winsome Tin Man quality. Yet there is no doubt that Whalen has a heart. The designer works only with existing (deadstock, vintage, found) materials, and tends towards homely textiles like thermals, linen, and cotton feedsacks. Blankets were used to make coats this season, and wax extended from the set into the actual collection. There were wax-dipped tops and one model removed her exposed cage crinolines and lit them, revealing they were made of wick and wax like a candle.
There’s a pictorial beauty to Whalen’s work. This collection contained references to large swaths of history, including the 18th-century, Victorian times, and earlier. Wader-style pants, for example, looked like something out of a Pieter Bruegel winter landscape, while a charming miss with a metal hat was like a figure from an illuminated manuscript, and there were hints of Watteau in the undulating sway of the back of a dress.
The collection didn’t work as a proposal for what we might want to wear: these were special romantic get-ups that can easily read as costumes. (Interestingly both Whalen and Elena Velez showed a number of “bodice-ripper” looks.) In times of turmoil, it is tempting to use the past as an escapist retreat; the way Whalen transforms body controlling elements of historical dress into soft sculptural elements keeps her from falling into that trap. And there is usually a humble aspect to her work, something of a pioneer or Puritan spirit that makes an appearance. Whalen’s talent is apparent, what she wants to do with it less so because the clothes are, to some extent, manifestations of states of being. “The show and the collection that I make is a reflection of my emotional state,” she said. This season, it was one of “burnout [and] overwhelming hopelessness,” said Whalen, who added that there is also “an insane uplifting of community at the moment that’s rising.” Darkness tempered by light, then. There is hope in knowing that from a spark can grow a flame.
