Tom Ford Ready To Wear Spring Summer 2015 London
Do you think Tom Ford cares what you think? The man is a rock-star. He did sexy at Gucci, sexy at YSL, and now it’s his name, his rules and he’s got that ferocious swagger back and is showing London exactly what he’s good at.
It doesn’t matter where the venue was, once you crossed over the threshold you were in Tom’s lair, champagne, plush carpet, comfy gray sofas with smoked mirrors climbing the walls and up the runway so every narcissist could be a voyeur seduced from every angle.
Hush, and the lights went out. “Your lights are on, but you're not home, your mind is not your own…” the breathy voice of Florence and the Machine’s ‘Addicted to Love’ purred into the blackness. The lights came on and out strolled suicide blondes, tousled hair, black on black, skirts slashed so high, black patent suspender belts flashed past. Silks, velvets, flared pants, it was all black, provocative, and who gives a F what season, this girl doesn’t leave until after dark. Ford referenced his Gucci Golden era and turned it into a new lover with her one-track mind, and slowly smoked greens started to creep in, along with blurred jacquard, animal print and shades from the murky side of the club, sequins, sheer panels, leather fringing, towering platforms. The tux, his cut-out white sheath dress, the gold, the silver, and rather than faff around with florals, sequins or subliminal, their position was strategic and eveningwear thrashed between lace negligee and the after hours with one thing on their mind. You’re looking at the F word, and definitely not just Fashion. It wasn’t prim, it wasn’t playing games, it was sexy, it didn’t need a season or a reason, it knew everyone was looking and talking about her.