Kabuki

Please tell me I'm not alone. I have found myself constantly reflecting on the juxtapositions we witness in the world now. Good vs evil being the most obvious. Given our particularly confusing spectrum of opposites and everything in between I've learned that there's something to be said of the lessons learned from studying the contrasts that occur. Real news, fake news. Like, dislike. Love, hate. Life, death. (No morbid intent here: just the aftermath of my exceptionally emotional experience of reading When Breath Becomes Air. Paul Kalanithi's cogitations of morality, biology, literature and philosophy during his battle with inoperable lung cancer are poignant and raw - stop what you're doing and read it now so we can discuss). 

This is not limited to the more pressing matters of the universe. Instead I find that paradox and juxtaposition have broadened the capacity in which one is able to view and interpret. When we're able to bridge the gap between opposites the outcome is connection and comprehension, allowing us to operate in a shared space and ameliorating perspectives.

And so we arrive in the land of the rising sun, more specifically Kyoto, where the subtle contrasts only gave more to the experience of LV Cruise. Our first visit was the Golden Pavilion, a contrast in itself of a gleaming, grand temple decorated with gold leaf settled delicately on a pond.  Verdant surroundings emphasising the stillness. Stillness that is interrupted once you reach the pebbled pathway where thousands (and I mean thousands) of tourists shuffle in a steady stream forward in that exemplary organised Japanese fashion we've come to know and love.

This quintessential historic Japanese temple was the perfect prelude to the Cruise 18 show the next day, mid-air on the Miho Museum bridge, where even the steady stream of guests entering the tunnelled venue could not interrupt the sounds of Japanese fauna.

Amidst slices of afternoon light piercing through I. M. Pei's blades of steel the similarities and differences with last year's Oscar Niemeyer venue in beachside Rio were apparent. With its suspended metal cables leaping off the archway of the bridge softened by the afternoon sun and the sinuous metallic seating, the Miho Museum provided the perfect contrast of the heritage and tradition of the Pavilion whilst looking forward to the future as Nicolas does best.

Once again he empowered his models, arming them with warrior-like armour and boxy, oversized blazers with contrasting fabrics. Always looking forward, the polarity continued, with Ghesquiere referencing Japanese seventies flick Stray Cat Rock to create the looks of tomorrow with metallic coats, glossy leather blazers and rainbow two-piece suits that could have very well been a hologram walking down the runway. With Ghesquiere, you never know...

 

 

 

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