The fur moccasins were not chic nor flattering. It looked like the models had stomped a poodle to death with the remains left stuck between their toes. Ghastly. The tweedy looking jackets with green military pockets felt like some attempt to be conceptual rather than chic. I dunno, sometimes there’s something so self-conscious and art-world approval seeking about his work that it reeks of insecurity. Is he trying to keep up with such friends as Elizabeth Peyton and Sophia Coppola? I don’t know.









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