The year is 802,701 AD – the 8,028^th century – and life as we know it has seriously devolved, regressed, if not warped into something entirely un-recognizable : It is the grand premise of the old novel by H.G. Wells called The Time Machine, in which a protagonist travels to a distant future searching for – what else – love! When he arrives he finds that the earth has changed into the Garden of Eden where everyone lives in peace and happiness except for that somewhere amidst the flowers and the fruit trees there stands a gigantic monolithic anomaly – the Morlock Sphinx – a giant face with an ominous expression and peering eyes in the middle of a lush and serene landscape from which the peaceful denizens of a future Elysium shy away from casting as much as a single look for some mysterious and strange reason.  And this is where an eerie story about Philipp Plein Men’s AW 15/16 starts, for unbeknownst to all deep beneath a far distant future hollow earth there dwells a distorted & menacing but humanoid lurking danger – creatures who cannot stand the sun and who shy away from the clear light of day…

The creatures in this story from 1895 are called Morlocks and because the description of what is presented in this old book so uncannily resembles the themes and stage of the Phillip Plein show (themed Warriors), we’ll give you the Wikipedia entry:

Morlocks are a fictional species created by H. G. Wells for his 1895 novel, The Time Machine who dwell in the world of AD 802,701 in a troglodyte civilization, maintaining ancient machines that they may or may not remember how to build. Their only access to the surface world is through a series of well structures that dot the countryside of future England. Morlocks are troglo-faunal humanoid creatures, said to have descended from humans, but by the 8,028th century have evolved into a completely different species, said to be better suited to their subterranean habitat.

And so it goes expressed as in one single paragraph on the Phillip Plein runway on this dark & damp Saturday winter night in Milano, where everyone is trying to get in except the pope: So for fashion’s sake let’s call the PP warriors Warlocks instead of Morlocks, those dark & menacing underground creations are all slowly paraded – or should we say romped & slumped – out of the gaping mouth of a large black monolithic feline idol – the Morlock Sphinx – with one thousand guests present seated 7 rows high in a hexagon cage fighting arena and called into worshipping and venerating the idol silently waiting for sacrifices to come as a perpetual and incessant droning of 4 morose repetitive tones appears to warn of imminent danger.

With this ambiance in mind here is what then follows during, before, and after the show in rapid succession:

• Italian fashion icons Franca Sozzani (fashion executive) & Anna dello Russo (fashion journalist) show up on Front Row.
• Followed by Italy’s most ‘famous’ self-promotion power-blogger Chiara Ferragni who shows she likes the attention of cameras by parading up and down front row for all who care to see (who is she again?).
• Who is then subsequently most marvelously upstaged by no one less than Paris Hilton who is, surprise, surprise – a little camera shy, as she tries to go unnoticed in the crowd on the second row, but who now ‘reluctantly’ decides to oblige a swarm of un-expecting paparazzi by slowly standing up and offering everyone a short glimpse of her beautiful self (she looked a little tired but handled it marvelously) as she accepts catcalls coming from the crowd in broken English: ‘I love you Paris!’
• A flickering fast lightshow then introduces the lowering of a cage from the ceiling around the ring while the eyes of the Morlock Sphinx menacingly start to follow the crowd with two searching torch lights.
• Now the show begins with a ringmaster in the fighter cage introducing two ultimate fighting type warriors (UFC style) who begin to do battle surrounded by– not again but aye – several blonde ring girls dressed in black and wearing eye-straps holding up points scored for each landed punch.
• Followed by the introduction of – yay – Snoop Dogg who after performing a great version of Snoop Dogg Who Am I disappears again.
• Then and only then Philipp Plein’s grand collection of Warlocks – in plain ornate warrior collection and dress (it is the theme of the show) – slowly start rolling out of the mouth of the giant idol morbidly plodding around the cage fighting ring to the classic sounds of Johann Strauss’ Blue Danube Waltz.
• Which’ friendly sounds and tones are then interchangeably replaced and alternated by the dark sound of black barreled war drums played by drummer warlocks dressed and body-painted as aboriginal Australian warriors (or as latter day Kiss-loving-glam rock fans) all standing around the fighting cage ring and ready to do battle.
• Until…

Yes, until what exactly? Because the ring show is so overwhelming that it not just takes away from the viewer’s focus and appreciation of an otherwise very interesting collection, but that it actually leads to the collection itself being marginalized to a point of no return of interest for fashion – as Snoop Dogg is now coming in for an encore and as two VJ turn tables are lowered from the ceiling into the cage fighting ring for two VJ’s to do ‘battle’. Yay, and BOOM fireworks and pyrotechnics!

Continuous battle continues! Everything battles in this show. Paris tangles with the girl from The Blonde Salad and it is no contest. The ringmaster battles with the crowd and loses it completely. The warlock models do battle with their own show and seem on the losing end. Snoop Dogg does not need to do battle because many people are probably here to see Snoop Dogg – just fine – first and the collection only second – and maybe rightfully so because he is great. The only two real fighters are in the ring but are fighting a faux battle, a first fight at 50 percent and the next fight at 60 percent. They never really fight. The blonde black laced & styled dancing & prancing girls are battling each other for attention. The warlock drummers are awfully good and win the crowd as the crowd gazes away from the warlock models.

Yet there are three warlock models whose image is powerful enough to manage to break through the mold of the show:

• an intimidating dressed-in-leather-and-black Mogadorian (yes look it up) who carries a black baseball bat menacingly in his right hand – his mullet showing us that he means business and that it is better to never meet his type on the street
• two model–warriors wearing spiked Mad Max helmets – the old gladiator look but styled towards a post–apocalyptic future set decidedly in 802,701 AD
• another warlock model in black and white showing a mixed-media version of a traditional American Football outfit (which of course includes different forms of padding and protection – another signature of the fashion part of the show)

But for the rest the poor models are getting buried (to stick with the vernacular) in the grand battle royal which is this gem of – what is supposed to be – a FASHION show. Such an interesting and daring collection but no match for the pyrotechnics shooting up to the ceiling from the rafters and from the top of the cage. No vest nor handle – pun intended – on the two ultimate fighting champs. Probably getting only a few glimpses from Paris on row two. The only thing that wins out in the end here is a twilight of the idols.

Thus the Philipp Plein show notes state that his men’s collection ‘mirrors the adrenaline-fueled aesthetic of the challenges that men face nowadays’. But make that rather benzene – not adrenaline – as Rammstein would have it – or kerosene as in rocket fuel – or perhaps even glycerine: A nitroglycerine-fueled aesthetic anyone? Who likes to carry a black baseball bat around in the hood?  Hghn!? A spiked Mad Max mask maybe? A roller-ball football outfit in black & white?

Let’s hope BDMOTP doesn’t get – pun intended – blacklisted from the next show for writing this scathing article, because the show was absolutely great – but just too much over the top in order to do real justice to the quality and creativity of the collection. It’s sad because the fashion creations by Philipp Plein – including and not limited to the manifold marvelous materials that were used – were most definitely worthy of study and observation in more detail – had we been given a chance.

But no offence is taken and all is forgiven – tout est pardonné – because BDMOTP, in order to cover this show, crossed the Alps from a sad Paris still in shock from violent events earlier this month, to a happy, peaceful, and dancing Milano partying in grand style so that we do not only feel privileged & grateful to have witnessed this quite wonderful underground presence – a descent à l’enfer – of a dark, brooding, and morose group of warlocks, lead by Snoop Dogg & conceived by Philippe Plein for a grandioso show and a reverse-slam-dunk after-party: No, we feel very lucky!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted by Sandro Joo and photos by Paloma Canseco.