The times that I have found myself completely lost for words in this industry have been few and far between. The first was backstage at Vivienne Westwood, standing half a metre away from Val Garland, no less than hyperventilating at her overwhelming genius; the second was some time during London Fashion Week when a security guard insisted that I was far too young to have been invited to the show as media and had surely stolen my seated invite (seriously); and the third was this. Sitting between my homeslice Z and the ever lovely Damien Woolnough, my brain struggled between the wild editorial styling ideas I had for the collection, and wanting to keep everything perfectly just the way it was.
And so it has taken me the most part of a week to come up with some verbal justice for what can only be described as the artistic brilliance of Toni Maticevski. Toni’s attention to detail has never been an issue for debate – there was never a wrong texture, finish, structure or complementary colour. Even having spied these pieces when visiting Toni and Prasana the week before, no perfect hanger nor studio lighting could have prepared anybody for the sculptural ingenuity and innovative styling (of gowns, no less) that walked the fine line of pushing boundaries without losing touch with the female form. A sparse and provocative soundtrack serenaded majestically tall models and weeping onlookers: thank god for Toni, they all said, he keeps us inspired.
Such was the fact of the matter. Backstage post-show for hugs to the nth degree and repeated exclamations of Toni the show was everything, the dynamic was refreshingly different to most other behind the scenes buzz I have ever been in and amongst. There was no hierarchy or faceless team members. All models, makeup artists, security, press, dressers, were all working with each other and excited to produce the best show they could – surely what has and will continue to sustain the Maticevski brand for so long. The only other time I have observed anything close was at Prabal some seasons ago. It’s rare. I respect that.
What I have yet to conclude, though, is where I might have the excuse to wear one of these beauties.
Help a girl out here.