Handcrafted storytelling – tribal yet regal, tinged with nostalgia were brought to life, each look at a distinctive chapter or character in a grand collective. There were echoes of Margiela’s artisanal ethos, intricate lacework, boldly colored masks—an homage to the celebrated designer, yet undeniably anchored in Ifrach’s own world and heritage. In a way, it felt like a full-circle moment in the ongoing conversation around cultural appropriation—here, a dialogue of reclamation rather than imitation.
Glorious in their expansive breath, otherworldly in their layered grandiosity, these are garments for kings and queens in exile, their thrones long abandoned, yet their dignity and grace remain intact. Heads held high, crowned with makeshift, fanciful headpieces that feel both improvised and ceremonial—perhaps a nod to their former glory, or simply a poetic imagining.
And there’s more.
Grandmother’s linens and embroidered tablecloths become cloaks of inheritance, draped over shoulders as if carrying the weight of generations. Patchworked dresses and robes feel like relics of a lost dynasty, quilted surfaces, stitched with intention, with the phrase Mashallah offering a quiet blessing.
Yet, strip away the fanfare, and you’ll find deceptively wearable garments beneath the spectacle. A compact, delicately embellished sheath-like black dress, layered over a gauzy underpinning that would fare well on its own; a flowing white silk dress with a 1930s drop waist exudes effortless elegance. The gargantuan cloaks, currently piled over heavy embellishment, might gain rather than lose impact if stripped down to a more monastic simplicity. Thrown carelessly over a simple gown, they would make the perfect dramatic entry for a black-tie affair.
Elsewhere, snakes slither across cloaks and coil at the models’ necks—not menacing, but seductive, an age-old symbol of protection and fertility. A nod to the snake charmers, a universal archetype, familiar to all, cliché to…
