A MOMENTARY ESCAPE FROM REASON

Olivier Theyskens and Helmut Lang

This piece previously appeared in the New York Times in 2011.

IT was one of those odd, balmy days between winter and Spring Street when the air is gray-yellow and weirdly tropical. The barometer was spinning like a pinwheel, and there was a fidgety animal tension in the ozone. Heads were throbbing, and SoHo shoppers seemed dementedly giddy, like kids trying to stifle a laughing fit at a funeral.

Times of tumult occasionally make for strange bedfellows. In the brave new world of ready-to-wear, fashion brands that wouldn’t ordinarily have anything to do with one another sometimes find themselves shacked up after being absorbed by the same conglomerate. As a result of one such fraternity — the Helmut Lang and Theory brands are owned by Fast Retailing — there is now a Helmut Lang and Theyskens’ Theory pop-up shop on Mercer Street. It appeared mysteriously, plans to stay for six months, then will evaporate on Aug. 1 unless compelled to remain.

One can see how Theory and Helmut Lang might reasonably cohabitate — both are known for clean minimalist lines. It’s Olivier Theyskens, the young Belgian who previously designed luxury wear for Rochas and Nina Ricci, who is the weird roommate in this mix. It was surprising when, last September, Mr. Theyskens introduced a capsule collection for the mass-market Theory brand. And it was somewhat mind-boggling when, a month later, he received the keys to the whole chocolate factory: Mr. Theyskens is now the artistic director of Theory.

This didn’t look logical at all, more like a sudden elopement after an inflamed whirlwind romance. Theory has always been a respectable mid-level brand: snappy work wear for the junior executive. Not too flashy, barely sexual — a blamelessly tasteful, nonconfrontational, utilitarian look hovering somewhere around the 60 percent level of economic and/or human empowerment. I would hit the Theory racks at Saks when I needed Washington camouflage; I once bought two of the same short-sleeve, stretch-cotton button-down shirt to wear with my suits, despite the fact that Theory had named it the Aniston.

Theyskens’ Theory is so markedly different from the rest of the Theory offerings that the company has opted to house the collection with Helmut Lang for the sake of this pop-up shop. (Bits of the Theyskens’ Theory capsule collection will appear in Theory stores.)

Eric Schlossberg, one of the store employees (a refreshingly laid-back, cheerful, artistic crew of dancers, stylists, etc.), explained it thusly: “I mean, what Theory customer is going to be walking around in a conical bra-dress with five-inch platforms?” (To his great credit, Mr. Schlossberg, the day I visited, was attempting to dress his own mother in such items.)

Even from the store window, it is clear that Mr. Theyskens has been allowed to take the Theory woman places she has never been invited to before. A wide-leg, electric blue silk-satin pantsuit does not evoke a working arugula lunch in the cubicle so much as ingesting different herbs at a Fleetwood Mac concert, circa 1978.

Theyskens’ Theory is dark, minimal and loose. A mannequin inside the door was wearing a transparent black silk blouse rough-tucked into leather pants. The model in the look book is an Ali MacGraw type: a wispy brunette with no makeup, hair parted in the middle and jutty hipbones. It’s 1970s effortless: sockless, beltless, braless. A billowy silk blouse hangs above her pleated shorts, exposing a strip of skin below her navel. Naked white legs end in low-heeled ankle boots.

The space is a big minimal box, with the Theyskens capsule collection dominating the right side and Helmut Lang racks on the left. The charcoal gray walls were overrun with taxidermy. Another helpful salesman, James Lin, explained, as he unwrapped a pair of ungodly black wedgies with straps sexily crossing across the arch, that everything in the store — the beast heads; the jars of ibex horns; the overstuffed, distressed-leather living-room set — was for sale; the interiors were provided by the Brooklyn shop Holler & Squall. This made sense. Taxidermy is just the thing a fashion-forward, junior-executive girl suddenly given to rock groupiedom and bong hits would want in her New York apartment.

There were other fetish-worthy objects on the distressed wood and rusty metal shelves — nicely shaped things that wanted squeezing: a zippered, football-shaped purse; a red perch-leather version that looked like an old manual CPR pump bladder.

I was violently attracted to a Theyskens purple silk sleeveless blouse ($250), short in front, longer in back. And the wedgies ($465) were killing me. They were so sexy, so almost walkable. Some silky, bias-cut Helmut Lang quasi-jodhpurs ($290) seized my affections. I wanted it all. I felt that panicked longing you get when you know that something you want won’t be available forever. The knowledge that a store is temporary inspires greater recklessness.

Trying to be reasonable, I bought only the blouse. But I went back a day later and bought the jodhpurs. Still contemplating the shoes.

It’s not an excuse you can use every day — the whole “apocalypse is imminent and therefore I must buy these pants” thing. But life is short and dangerous. Sometimes you find rare things that really should belong to you, and you must consider your own mortality.

QUEORY Olivier Theyskens’s edgy Theory capsule collection and Helmut Lang are cohabitating under one big, chic, dark minimalist roof for a few months, collectively offering a strong but delicate blend of sleek deconstructivist classics-cum-sportswear. 

CHEERY It’s a comfier experience than one might expect: nice chairs; enormous dressing rooms; a chatty, smart, playful staff; bottled water. Even the spiky heavy-metal jewelry (Pamela Love, Eddie Borgo) has been softened, for your tasteful (but still sorta edgy) maturity. 

NO REST FOR THE WEARY Be prepared for sudden ambushes on your credit score. Many great finds, reasonable enough to just barely justify. A good place to avoid if you’re so fashion-prone as to commit acts of financial suicide.

Cintraw@gmail.com.

CINTRA WILSON IS ALSO ACCEPTING PAINTING COMMISSIONS.

Artwork: “Vickers,” oil on canvas, Cintra Wilson 2021