Travelling into the deepest depths of Brooklyn on an icy Saturday night doesn’t put show-goers in the best of moods. It transpires that his show venue is so remote that it doesn’t even show up on Sat Nav. And so, in a not-so-fun game of the blind leading the blind, a convoy of town cars circle streets in search of Wang autumn/winter 2014. As the cars pulled up to the elusive Ship Way Avenue, passed 9pm, more than half an hour later than scheduled, a collective this-had-better-be-worth-it rippled through Wang’s particular warehouse of choice.
His first exits set the pace. With hair slicked down, combed tight to heads, models looked like sci fi man-mannequins from a digital age. A series of stiff tunic dresses with hard leather collars were decked out in moulded 3D storage compartments, each one stiff as a board, they were reminiscent of the Utensilo shiny plastic organisers by Vitra that you see nailed to walls in artsy homes and offices, filled with stationery-like pens and scissors and other nik–naks.
Bags took on a similar feel, which were more like belts slung over shoulders streaming in flask holders, camera and iPhone cases. A place for everything, Wang fans will be vying for one come August. Next, came tissue-thin leather tracksuit trousers teamed with T-shirts rendered in purple Astrakhan.
Yes the finale of heat-activated looks that changed colour before fashion spectators’ eyes, while whirling around on a conveyor belt were pretty impressive too, but by then thoughts had already turned to the snaking gridlocked queue out of here and the pilgrimage back to Manhattan.