The second Wednesday in May—fashion’s most iconic, elusive, glamorous night. Or, at least, that’s the level of notoriety that this year’s Oxford Fashion Gala aspires to, according to their Marketing Co-Director, Grace Hillier. I entered the Town Hall’s doors with low expectations, hoping to be surprised. They were quickly corrected by Grace’s confidence. Confidence might be the best accessory, but any accessory can be ruined by over-abundance: the actual Met Gala is a tough act to follow on a student budget, as this year’s OFG made devastatingly clear.

 

 

If only my expectations hadn’t been set quite so high, I might have been inclined to review the event with a more charitable outlook. But fashion is a notoriously bitchy industry, so why should I contain myself? Expectations are always high in fashion, and arguably, at Oxford they should be even higher. One would expect the country’s (nay, the world’s!) best and brightest young minds to be able to approach a fashion show with the same attention to detail, industrious work ethic and well-though out plan as I’m sure they apply to every essay.

 

 

The ‘Metamorphosis’ themed event took fashionably late to a new extreme this year, with the event beginning over fourty-five minutes late. The opening act, Teddy & Isabel, did their best to entertain us while we waited. I loved hearing their acoustic rendition of Chappell Roan’s ‘Good Luck, Babe’ twice!

 

 

When we did eventually get to see some clothes, it was only for five minutes: the show was, inexplicably, divided into two acts, the first being a showcase from their sponsor, Solidaritee. There’s nothing wrong with dedicating part of a showcase to a particular designer—what I found inexplicable was their choice to punctuate the two parts with an awkward, forced thirty minute dance party in the middle. We were instructed to leave our seats and dance to a live music set, which began with ‘Rasputin’ and ended with a song no one knew. The dance floor was packed with people standing awkwardly, some making a vague attempt at dancing- it was clear no one had expected they’d have to start partying before anything worth partying about had actually occurred.

 

 

As for Solidaritee’s actual clothes, they were mostly forgettable—I have to say that the models did a great job of making the experience memorable, as they very professionally strutted their way down the catwalk. I’m not sure it’s a good thing that I remember the gorgeous faces of the models more than the clothes, though.

 

 

Awkward boogieing over, we were allowed to return to our seats for the meat of the evening, the actual fashion show. There were a few absolutely jaw-dropping looks—the show’s closers, a pair of complimentary, sparkling sheath dresses, come to mind. Some of the looks, though, tried to take ‘metamorphosis’ in an unsuccessful literary direction—one model appeared to be dressed as sexy Franz Kafka. All I have to say is that fedoras won’t be making a comeback in my wardrobe any time soon.

 

 

There were several technically stunning pieces—but nothing that conceptually wowed me. I kept holding my breath, waiting to see a look that did something completely unexpected with the wide berth afforded by the theme. I saw some amazing butterfly inspired looks, lots of gorgeous drapery, and some dazzling sparkles—but nothing made me sit up and go oh. That’s clever. Good fashion leaves you inspired, starry-eyed, in awe at a designer’s intellect as well as their raw technical prowess. I’d certainly expect it from a designer pool made up of Oxford students.

 

 

Throughout the evening, everyone I managed to speak to about the theme had identical responses- when asked, ‘What does “metamorphosis” mean to you?’ they’d blithely reply ‘Oh… it reminds me of butterflies! And change, and transformation… the unexpected.’ I expect you’ll have better luck next time, OFG. The event was fine—which is, admittedly, exactly what I expected.∎

 

Words and photo by Kalina Hagen.