Despite a mass of conceptual befuddlement, one thing was for sure; it must have been a blood-bath.
Although evoking 1980s cinematic sci-fi, when special effects teetered on the edge of CGI, a brush of medieval nostalgia was undesguisably palpable. Crossing the drawbridge and entering their battle field, the crimson soldiers marched with cold, withdrawn calibre. Upon their stiff, unrelenting silhouette, they carried slicing origami pleats, unflattering spirograph hip accents and protruding shoulder appendages; overtly suggestive of historic weaponry.
The futuristic armour of precise tailoring mainly retired to mechanical silvers and industrial monochromatics amidst scarlet fixtures, somewhat "complementing" the "blushed" complexion.
Sucking all the air out of what had become a signature voluminous shape, Viktor and Rolf surrendered to sharp and slender columns of fabric. Their, new fangled, rigid disposition was unyeilding as an emblazoned thorned-rose effigy stamped itself to the models' chests, unfolding less vulnerability than your typical gun toting psychopath.
It was frankly terrorising yet implausibly wearable at times. Burried beneath a boundless barrage of oddity, hid pencil skirts and fitted macs, opening doors to a wardrobe of adaptable work-wear. With Viktor and Rolf conquering the battlefield and dominating new ground, it appears that avant-garde styling wonders will never cease.
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