The PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week, just having completed its 10th edition, has grown into an irrepressible, relentless leviathan. This year’s event, dictating trends for the ongoing Spring/Summer season, was supposed to take place in early March before Lahore was shaken by a blast and security concerns prompted the Pakistan Fashion Design Council (PFDC) to delay the event to April. Venue unavailability caused the schedule to be snipped down from four to three days and the designer line-up boasted slightly less stellar veteran names than usual.

And yet, the show went on. Attending PSFW this past week, one felt an exuberance that had lately been missing — the joy of seeing spectacular design, of appreciating some of local fashion’s most creative contenders, of being witness to mostly good collections and of having to bear very few truly atrocious ones.

On the downside, some uninspiring voile shows marred the vision and a few line-ups should have had ideally been edited out altogether. Still, in a milieu where retail aspirations are frequently quelling creativity, at least PSFW tried.

One could almost perceive the wheels propelling the business of fashion accelerate as high street delved into avant-garde territory and certain young labels easily outclassed the veterans.

“We are trying to take things to the next level,” the Council’s Chairperson Sehyr Saigol said to me on the very first day of fashion week. “We have changed the format in an effort to set standards. Things have to move forward.”

New changes, new benchmarks

Moving forward, in this case, included implementing an all-new format for fashion week. Instead of planning out a single show in an auditorium, Lahore’s colossal Expo Centre was divided into two halls. Different shows took place in separate halls, spaced out by 30-minute gaps. Some of these shows were solo outings by designers who wanted to put forward more extensive collections. Others were group shows where two or three labels showed one after the other.

Designers at the PSFW sought to make statements that makes one hope that perhaps the local market could slowly diversify and edge away from the generic kurta

One wondered if this would mean less popular labels showing to an empty hall and a schedule that went on into the early hours of the night. Luckily, things were planned out well. In group shows, fledgling brands were combined with more popular ones, ensuring a full hall. Designers participating in a segment could easily set aside seats for friends and family who specifically came to see their show. The perpetual stream of guests was, thereby, controlled and limited seating, to some extent, eliminated the oglers who have always been a sad part of local fashion events.

Even the timings were worked out very well. Mustang Productions’ Sadia Siddiqui, who has hitherto been noted for helming the Fashion Parade event in London, flew in for choreographing PSFW and kept the pace slick, snappy and punctual. Four international models — ostensibly taller, slimmer and savvier than their desi counterparts — were included in the models’ pool. The hair and makeup for multiple shows was kept uniform — another sensible move that managed to keep timings under control.

One also noticed how Urdu1, the event’s media sponsor, refrained from plastering their logo all over the place. It was a step away from overt marketing, allowing the focus to remain on fashion — a praiseworthy change.

Hair for the avant-garde

Speaking of sponsors, the show’s title sponsors opted for a hair show to showcase their penchant for cutting-edge hair. It had been a while since stylist Nabila had planned out a hair show, and her return to the limelight was supremely confident and riveting. In dramatic alchemy, the hairstyles varied from outlandish multi-tiered buns to unkempt pastel-coloured waves, stark ombre hues and fierce long lengths. Complemented by theatrical costumery, the visuals were very strong, mixing the exaggerated with the more conventional, the ostentatious with the very sellable.

This, in essence, is the formula required to put out a headline-making show. Designers with a penchant for trotting out retail-friendly catalogues on the catwalk need to take note.

High notes for the high-street

On another high note, certain high-street retail brands pushed the elusive fashion envelope outwards. Rather than veer towards generic, retail-oriented lines, these labels sought to make statements that gives one hope that perhaps the local market could slowly diversify and edge away from the generic kurta.

Sapphire’s ‘Totem’ packed in the punches with its vibrant sense of adventure. There were flared pants, balloon sleeves, belted waistlines and quirky details. Oriental embroideries of cranes, tigers and pagodas were worked on to the canvas. These were clothes for the contemporary woman — modern, refreshing to look at, comfortable. They are also going to be stocked at Sapphire outlets very soon which is, after all, the whole point behind generating mileage from a high street show at fashion week.

 Meanwhile, Generation opted to ‘Bring Basant Back’ with a contemporary take on the kite-flying festival. Geometric kite-shapes were dexterously implemented with patch-work, print, pleats and layers. It was uber-cool, very artistic and a prime example on how even mass retail can also veer towards the edgy.

Also ruling the sartorial roost was Khaadi Khaas. Taking inspiration from the nomads of Central Asia, the collection weaved in layers of brilliant embroideries and textures, moulded on to very wearable silhouettes. Accentuated by tribal jewellery, it was an exuberant celebration of all that has characterised the mother-brand Khaadi over the years — an intrinsically Pakistani, avant-garde, well-thought-out take on fashion.

Cross-Stitch’s sequins and jewel tones were pretty and Ethnic by Outfitters, though hardly ‘ethnic’, worked out some interesting experimentations.

Luxurious aspirations

Meanwhile, within the realms of luxury-wear, younger brands surprisingly overshadowed more veteran labels. There was Misha Lakhani who showcased exquisite hand-woven fabric, moulding it on to edgy, modern silhouettes as well as the classically traditional. Sania Maskatiya presented her ‘Studio’ line where digital prints with paint-effects and tapered, very well-cut silhouettes took centre-stage. A departure was made from basic embroideries because, really, haven’t we seen enough of those?

Adnan Pardesy’s workmanship was diligently detailed with single tone, miniscule embroidery worked on to textured fabrics and featured on sophisticated silhouettes. Ali Xeeshan, meanwhile, delivered characteristic flamboyance. His ‘Victory’ featured models holding golden trophies, wearing a collection that interspersed 3-D embellishments, mirror-work and appliqué with a predominantly cotton canvas. It was high-end prêt calculated to catch the eye, flawed only by the inclusion of a few blingy outfits that screamed wedding-wear. Apparently Ali slotted them as formal-wear but, in a collection that worked wonders with generic cotton, they were not required.

Complemented by theatrical costumery, the visuals were very strong, mixing the exaggerated with the more conventional, the ostentatious with the very sellable.

Saira Rizwan’s tie-n-dyes and bright colours presented fresh summer options and Shiza Hassan’s florals, though a bit overdone, had potential.

Amongst the stalwart labels — and there were very few of them — Sana Safinaz delivered ‘Chateau Mormont.’ Quintessentially glamorous, the collection featured a vivid palette and anglicised silhouettes. One hopes that some semblance of the collection trickles down to the designer duo’s stores. The spurts of lime green in HSY’s ‘Paranoia’ were also interesting. Republic by Omar Farooq presented some fun options for men, taking inspiration from Japan.

Cheers for Rising Talent

Additionally, one noticed how the Bank Alfalah Rising Talent showcase had improved. Earlier this year, at Fashion Pakistan Week (FPW), the platform had made a marked departure from showing fantastical clothes that didn’t make sense. Similarly, at PSFW, the five newbie designers showed definite promise, presenting clothes that were wearable and endeavoured to set trends. Mentored by veterans Maria B. and Kamiar Rokni, the newbies Sharoz Tariq, Zainab Hamid, Asra Khalid, Amna Sheikh and Kokab Alvi worked with denim, gota embroideries, patchwork and gold zippers in separate capsule collections.

It was a worthy effort, indicative of how the future of fashion may not be as bleak as one perceives it to be in this Instagram age. Where everything is pronounced ‘stunning’ on social media, fashion critique has more or less died. Despite this, it was heartening to see the young generation trying.

The death of critique

More alarming, however, than the perpetually fluctuating ways of local fashion was an absolute absence of fashion critique. ‘Paid’ previews are now the norm, where ateliers can ‘buy’ a number of posts from different online forums, allowing pictures from their show to go viral on the far reaches of the internet. This makes commercial sense since Instagram has now become a veritable billboard for fashion the world over. Customers pinpoint clothes that they like via various social media forums and may proceed to place orders with various brands.

What does not make sense, though, is how these online publications spurn the responsibility of critiquing genuinely in an effort to keep their clients appeased and the money flowing. “I hate it but I can’t say anything because they are our clients,” one frequently heard while sitting in the front row — a space supposed to be reserved for prominent fashion critics.

It was a persistent blot on fashion week. Designers may as well show whatever they please now that they can simply buy rave reviews. One particularly saw some ghastly collections being pitched as ‘gorgeous’ by popular critics.

If this is what fashion week has come to, the event may just be dismissed altogether. Brands can create catalogs, pay for them to be advertised via social media and bring in the business. Mediocrity can reign supreme and bonafide fashion can simply die. But do we really want that? Fashion councils, critics and designers, that’s a point to ponder.

Published in Dawn, ICON, April 23rd, 2017