Before I bite into Christopher Bailey's latest ensemble, I feel obliged to bore (Sit tight it will only take a few minutes) with a rant of disappointment (A tad of an exaggeration - but you fellow fashion enthusiasts get me, right?) with regards to the collections that have graced Milan thus far. With thanks to Mr Wrigley, I lingered impatiently with bated minty fresh breath awaiting the pictorial delights to digitally emerge as I ferociously harassed the refresh button whilst deceiving colleagues into an illusion of false productivity (Who says men cant multitask - rubbish!). As each collection began to digitally appear, I was left underwhelmed and demanding an immediate reimbursement for the lost hours spent awaiting their sweet arrival. By no means were the collections bare of any substance BUT (there's always a but) they seemed to be vacant of a drive to move menswear forward. However, their were exceptions, Jil Sander and its skittles of colour and Prada's pick and mix of collars. Enough - Rant done!
Lets get back to the post in hand.... The Burberry boy has been transformed from the regimented, trench wearing brigadier to an anarchist clan, clad in string vest bourgeoisie's, intent on chaos not calm. Gone with the trench (well, Almost) and in its place, leather studded biker jackets and a few more studs thrown in for good measure. Christopher, I like, a lot,! Its refreshing to view a Burberry collection that binned the stiff upper lip and ventured into the dark side - Even if only for 6 months.
Pics courtesy of GQ
