Speaking of talent, I would like to start a thread on Craig Green. I think he's talented, and I like a lot of what he does, even including the Moncler Genius collaboration.
I'll start with my interview with Craig for Highsnobiety:
How Craig Green Accidentally Became One of Today’s Best Menswear Designers
Back around 2012 or so, the fashion critic Tim Blanks came up to me at one of the men’s fashion shows in Paris, handed me an invitation, and said something along the lines of, “You should go see this guy Craig Green. I think you’ll like it.”
I could not make it to the showroom, but I made a mental note, because when Mr. Blanks talks, I listen. A year later Green was already making waves in his native London and beyond, with menswear that had the familiar elements of workwear and uniforms—what Green calls “communal dressing”—so decidedly bent to Green’s creative will that it made them entirely his own. Such things are called “directional” or “conceptual,” the two lazy words fashion people reach for when they can’t quite understand what they’re looking at.
Which suits Green just fine, because while he can explain a collection, he prefers to leave room for interpretation. In this way he reminds me of Thom Browne, another designer who has proven that he can produce fantastic and fantastical things taking uniform dressing as his base.
I kept Green on my radar, looking at the photos of each collection, and carefully examining the frustratingly mediocre store buys—a chronic illness that hampers most designers who try daring things on the runway. With each collection, the clothes grew on me—the carefully thought-out details, the seemingly quotidian but never pedestrian fabrics, the not-quite deconstruction that Green has become so good at, the undertone of darkness and depth that opened itself if you looked carefully enough.
I'll start with my interview with Craig for Highsnobiety:
How Craig Green Accidentally Became One of Today’s Best Menswear Designers
Back around 2012 or so, the fashion critic Tim Blanks came up to me at one of the men’s fashion shows in Paris, handed me an invitation, and said something along the lines of, “You should go see this guy Craig Green. I think you’ll like it.”
I could not make it to the showroom, but I made a mental note, because when Mr. Blanks talks, I listen. A year later Green was already making waves in his native London and beyond, with menswear that had the familiar elements of workwear and uniforms—what Green calls “communal dressing”—so decidedly bent to Green’s creative will that it made them entirely his own. Such things are called “directional” or “conceptual,” the two lazy words fashion people reach for when they can’t quite understand what they’re looking at.
Which suits Green just fine, because while he can explain a collection, he prefers to leave room for interpretation. In this way he reminds me of Thom Browne, another designer who has proven that he can produce fantastic and fantastical things taking uniform dressing as his base.
I kept Green on my radar, looking at the photos of each collection, and carefully examining the frustratingly mediocre store buys—a chronic illness that hampers most designers who try daring things on the runway. With each collection, the clothes grew on me—the carefully thought-out details, the seemingly quotidian but never pedestrian fabrics, the not-quite deconstruction that Green has become so good at, the undertone of darkness and depth that opened itself if you looked carefully enough.
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