Against a version of 'Forever young' that slowed the beats to a sludgy thud, the proportions of Ricardo Tisci's clothes -shorts with everything- celebrated the sporty ballers who turned him on to menswear in the first place. That was sweet, except that he also introduced a print of snarling Rottweilers, an aggressive extension of the inveterate Gothicism that saw his models step out under an arch of blood-red roses. The dogs, with their whiff of nostalgie de la council estate, were typical of Mr Tisci's challenge to polite convention. The impulse to provoke is as strong in him as the inclination to reassure his audience that he is a designer who is entirely capable of shaping perfectly tasteful items of clothing, in camel suiting even. He pushes you away, he pulls you back. Break that tense dynamic down in Givenchy's offering and there was a whole lot to like, particularly in the precisely layered tailoring. Think of it as Samurai b-boy. Clothes that were rough in their roots but refined in their cut. These were duds made for dudes like Kanye and Drake : guys who are not shy about wearing bold tailored classics with an extra wattage of rockstar, featuring pitbull prints, monochromatic mixing, finishes of fur and boots laced up to the knee, and beyond. These clothes are not afraid to swagger. And what the hell, if you've got the legs, you might as well show them in Givenchy shorts !
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