Backstage, Rabih Kayrouz held a shirt on its hanger to his face. We all do this in front of a mirror without pausing to consider the visual. Kayrouz, meanwhile, seized on such a prosaic action by relocating shirt and jacket fronts so that they surrealistically appeared flat against the chest as if resisting their natural dimension and function. Admittedly, this explanation spoils the magic, so here’s hoping Kayrouz understands it was in the service of parsing his process.
This season, he said he wanted to situate the collection between dreams and reality. As fuzzy as this may sound here, there, in his atelier turned show space, where the windows were checkered red and a kaleidoscopic carpet marked the runway, the ambiance felt spot on. Kayrouz then delivered precisely tailored coats, flawless trousers, and soigné dresses that seemed subtly motivated by artistic impulse. Seams veered off their conventional course and panels of patterned lamé sourced from Abraham appeared tiered and patched like decoupage.
The velvet patterning on the final crimson sheath projected a pointillist effect, whether intentionally or not. Even the marble buttons felt like sculptural fragments. Never at any moment were these elements reopening the debate of fashion as art; Kayrouz is too committed to dressing real women for that affectation. But he isn’t above a surrealist flourish, which brings us back to his floating collared facades. Chances are, you have nothing similar in your closet; so if you’re tempted, the black or white versions were easier interpretations than the denim-effect blue. That fabric, incidentally, was a wool so wonderfully smooth it almost didn’t feel real.