His version of Dickie's are a prime example of this--equal parts the ruffled blouse of an aristocrat, and the torn sweater of a panhandler who’s assumed to be an addict. Those satin pants, while awfully shiny, bear the cargo pockets of a traumatized, underfunded, and discarded veteran. Suits no doubt costing in the thousands are worn shirtless. We may be flush and self-righteous now, but all it takes is one break that won’t stop hurting, one extra gram or unexpected expense, to bring us to our knees. The portraits in our attics may yet catch up with us, too.
The subject matter is heartbreakingly urgent, and the show a spectacle worth beholding. Unfortunately--though, to be clear, by no means the most unfortunate part of the situation--one issue with all of Simons’ drama is that it’s not easily integrated into one’s wardrobe. Still, in the spirit of the old platitude, there are ways to do everything (in the collection) in moderation: to invest in colorful, butter-soft leather gloves, albeit wrist-length and for outside wear only; to have your tailor line your trusty wool coat in a contrasting shade of silk; to seek out asymmetry or strange scale nearly hidden in a suiting classic. And, if the weather stays like it’s been in New York, to pick up a pair of Bunny boots--which, as a portion of proceeds from Youth in Motion are headed to organizations supporting people recovering from addiction, would fall solidly into the realm of a positive indulgence.