This month, fashion week took over all the big cities. While watching the runway shows, I kept wondering where these pieces end up. The pieces are sculptural, full of clashing patterns, and extravagant materials. Yet at the same time, these brands' stores are full of cream sweaters, black trousers and a wall of simple handbags. For a long time I assumed the runway was just art for art's sake; I now know this is a strategic move. The runway is a party platform's "extreme stand."
In a two-party system, parties pack their platforms with an overlapping mass of moderate policies in the middle of the scale, where most voters are. But a party can't go completely bland, or it loses its most loyal supporters at the edges. So each party will sprinkle a few extreme stands to please its far-out voters. A fashion house does exactly this. Its stores are the moderate mass, full of wearable basics that could belong to almost any label. Its runway is the sprinkle of extremes for editors and collectors. Like a party's extreme stands, those looks aren't meant to win over the average shopper. Take Loewe under Jonathan Anderson. His runways featured heels made from nail polish bottles, birthday candles, and cracked eggshells. Yet the brand's defining product was the Puzzle bag, a structured, clean leather bag.
Although they might not be consumed, these extreme stances let a customer differentiate one brand from another. Strip away the logos, and one luxury house's camel coat is nearly impossible to tell from another's. The runway isn't where a brand makes its sales. It's where a brand shows what it stands for.
