The Holy & Holey: Deconstructing Anti-Fashion, from the Antwerp Six to Margiela

Benedetta traces the birth and evolution of anti-fashion into the pervasive trend it has become today…

1986, a rather eventful year for many reasons...

But in Antwerp, six bright-eyed and young students from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts were busy stitching their future together, and the one dream accompanying all six of them: to have their initials embroidered on the cloth cover of every fashion history book. However, the six soon realised that Antwerp wasn’t the right place to be. Not yet. So, after graduation, they carefully packed all their designs and dreams, loaded a van – I picture it as rather Grateful Dead-esque – then drove all the way to London to showcase their works at the British Designer Show. And the rest was indeed fashion history.

Only a few months ago — years after life’s sharp claws had taken these designers out of the infamous van, pulling them in different directions — five of the Antwerp Six could have been found in the same room again. Back in May, Walter Van Beirendonck, Dries Van Noten, Ann Demeulemeester, Dirk Van Saene and Marina Yee briefly reunited. The news caught my attention, having recently had an Alice in Wonderland experience of sorts: I’d found myself chasing a white rabbit, who had pulled a broken pocket watch out of its waistcoat. And into the rabbit hole I fell; a rabbit hole called anti-fashion.

“...the one dream accompanying all six of them: to have their initials embroidered on the cloth cover of every fashion history book.”

A name that always comes up when you first venture into this mostly monochromatic world is, in fact, that of above-mentioned designer Ann Demeulemeester, whose muse is no other than Patti Smith.

For a while I was desperately trying to grasp the meaning of the term, anti-fashion, peeling off every layer of skin like a ripe fruit. Tracing back the origins of the movement, I came across a paper mentioning Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy from 1419 until 1467, as a precursor — granted, it is a bit of a stretch, as also acknowledged by the author. Philip decided to only wear black after the death of his father, mainly to mourn him, but also as a refusal to have his clothes speak for his status; the duke’s very refusal to show his nobility through opulent clothing can perhaps be interpreted as a punk, anti-fashion stance, and I personally like to think of him as a punk guy, as historically inaccurate as this might be.

To put it in a few words, the movement scoffs at impositions, trends that feel forced or contrived; anything being fed by third parties as the only answer to an imminent need. It doesn’t try nor desire to feed anything at all, at least not just one thing for a specific, allotted amount of time. Anti-fashion rather encourages to explore one’s own relationship with fashion and clothes, regardless of trends. There’s a disruptive fluidity intrinsic to this world, which perhaps is why I initially struggled to make myself acquainted with it. However, once you fall into the rabbit hole — and all the while, the white rabbit is giving you pitying looks, sipping cognac and discussing deconstructivism with its friends — chances are you might not want to leave at all.

Every time I look at Ann Demeulemeester’s older collections, for instance, I feel immediately pulled in, focusing on those cut-out details as if they were secret codes to decipher. There’s something simultaneously and inherently pure and energising, an electric quality within that black and white whirlwind of androgynous jackets, asymmetric skirts, and layered dresses. Clothes that scream defiance and effortless power in an elegant, painstakingly well-crafted way. As Ann herself told the Wall Street Journal, "I love to see a woman in one of my jackets, as though she was ready to take on the world."

“Clothes that scream defiance and effortless power in an elegant, painstakingly well-crafted way.”

Keeping that in mind, I believe that the anti-fashion spirit is now more relevant and present than ever. With the recent popularity of the ‘subversive basics’ trend giving into our most ferocious DIY impulses, I sense a profound desire to deconstruct one’s style and abandon oneself to this freeing form of chaos rather than shy away from it. Deconstruction, in fact, is not only a philosophical concept fathered by French-Algerian philosopher Jacques Derrida, but also a component intrinsic to the movement — garments that look unfinished, unpolished, but in a thought-through way. And when it comes to structured deconstruction, Martin Margiela is the first name that comes to mind.

The Belgian designer, regarded as the founding father of anti-fashion, had been taken under the abstract wing of none other than Jean-Paul Gaultier before deciding to carve his own path. Instead of classically beautiful silhouettes enhancing the models’ figures, Margiela saw beauty in the unorthodox and misshapen: oversized blazers and trousers, exposed boning structures, car belts and blindfolds as accessories. Avant-garde couture with a sardonic sense of humour, born from a burning desire to experiment and liberate women from wearing constricting garments in direct opposition to consumeristic trends and tendencies.

With all that history has been throwing at us for the past three years or so — 2020, 2021 and 2022 all being other hot contenders for the presumably coveted title of “Most Traumatic Year” (sorry, 1986) — many people, particularly Gen Z, have turned to fashion to channel their frustration, anger, wants and desires. Tearing old black tights apart to turn them into mesh tops (yet another fashion hack coming from TikTok).

In fact, scrolling through my For You Page, I feel some relief. I see the same disruptive and rule-bending spirit that has accompanied Martin Margiela and Ann Demeulemeester throughout their careers, leading the former to organise a fashion show at a kids’ playground, and throwing the latter inside a cramped van. Now, that spirit seems to have taken the shape of basic tees with holes and cut-outs as useful becomes useless. Basics that are no longer basics, stripped of their functionality and infused with pure, beautiful rage. The very idea of what is perceived as useful, sexy, masculine or feminine, completely readdressed, rediscussed and redefined.

“It is okay to be angry” is what this movement wants the youth to know. It is okay to be angry, and there’s something you can do with that anger. Cut one or two-hundred holes into your favourite tee. Deconstruct, play, experiment. Cut shapes out of your chaos, carve your initials on its milky surface. By then, who knows, that anger might have evolved or turned into something else.

credits

words —benedetta mancusi

design — karina so.