At Yohji Yamamoto, giant, constructed dresses billowing over spidery scaffolding slowly floated through the showspace; some appearing like wind-destroyed umbrellas, some held in place with taut strings and straps. The feeling that unravelled was a theatrical and poetic elegance; a pure, melancholic tranquillity reflected in the gentle pacing of the models.
Interspersed with the elaborate contraptions were robes worn by girls who folded their hands in front of their bodies or gently placed them inside the garments, showing the drape of a sleeve or placing of a pocket. There were evening gowns and military jackets, deconstructed white shirts and black suits united by drapery and a steampunk aesthetic.
With the weighty inclusion of the avant-garde, of angular Perspex and trapeze-like crinolines, the residual theme of the runway seemed to be under construction – but a peaceful sort; the slow and careful building of the Sagrada Família rather than a hurried roadworks. As Yamamoto told one editor after the show, "When I see ‘under construction’ somewhere, it’s always a good sign."