“Dirty stop out” is a charming British phrase applied to someone who has had so much fun at night that they can’t get home until morning. The term “walk of shame” is widely used to refer to the return journey. On Diesel this afternoon, Glenn Martens examines the house motto “For a successful life” and sets out to restore the reputation of the after-sex (or all-nighter) wardrobe.
He said this before the show: “I wake up and I don’t know exactly where I am. In the morning I have to get dressed and escape from that perverted night. Everything is ruined. I obviously don’t have time to look at myself in the mirror. But when I’m on the street, I look super hot because I own it. I’ve had a really good night and everything is great and I just glow from the inside out.”
Martens started the collection with a set of common standards that have been completely turned upside down and look fresher. White tank tops, denim outerwear, knit twin sets, half-buttoned shirts, and button-down skirts were all pulled, tugged, and swirled across the body. These were great and reminded me a bit of the free-spirited conceptual heat of Martens’ Y/Project work. It’s coated in denim to keep it stiff as you move, like last night’s cocktail splattered on it.
Knitwear incorporating needlepoint floral embroidery and lined with upcycled felt blankets (and denim-lined blankets) suggested that the wearer grabbed whatever was first in hand to cover themselves as they ran out the door. Floral prints are cleverly inlaid into the necklines of saturated ivory cable cardigans worn over ribbed knit rompers, or the collars of cotton shirts and knit tank tops. Finally, the flowers sprouted again on the hardened surface of the quilt trap. Boyfriend T-shirts and plaid shirts were layered, twisted, and wrapped to create one seemingly messed up jumpsuit and dress. A pale blue silk skirt hung from around her left thigh to almost her ankle, and was caught on top.
Velvet flocked denim, wraparound mini-shorts, panto boots, roughly contrasting pleated dresses (some of which seemed to have their hems unconsciously tucked into underwear), and a bevy of patched faux fur coats and gilets made from Diesel’s deadstock treasure trove added to the mix, all dressed up nicely in the dark. Towards the end of the collection, Martens incorporated what he called a “vomit of color” into the action. Leather and shearling outerwear, shirts and trousers were as powerful as the Wiggles. Flat-leg jeans and twin-set cotton tops were more subtly adorned with confetti colors.
These tones reflect the set, an anarchic installation of tens of thousands of props from shows and parties dating back to the 1980s, unearthed from Diesel’s archives. I spent this show being stared at by a stuffed (fake) zebra wearing a hat surrounded by scattered condoms, pizza slices, and cigarettes. Among the props was a bed with a stuffed pig sleeping on it, clearly unoccupied. As the finale passed, it stirred, sat up, and looked around with startled, cartoonish eyes.