I could write a lot of dust about the Dior Homme show.
Dior Homme was a display of a very refined tackiness. A very tunnelled tackiness, targeted with one specific vision. It’s worth noting that Karl Lagerfeld wore vintage Dior Homme, from when Hedi Slimane designed for the house. Karl Lagerfeld, the man whose mouth becomes an opening for a verbal hurricane when he speaks about “The Now” and why he only wears clothes from this season. Yet recent Dior Homme isn’t in “The Now” at all. It ain’t where it’s at.

It started with the pants. That’s what I saw first- everything else comes after that. In my head I have visions of MC Hammer type affairs, in metallics. And behind those pants- so big that they’re in front of everything else- I see ill fitting black suits. A tat of fabric here, a bit here. They aren’t clear in any case. Even if I went back and looked at those suits again, I wouldn’t really remember them. They’re a forgettable person.

I’m sure you can have damn stylish forgettable people, too. There’s a girl who passed me on the street, I only remember her red jacket. There’s millions of people who’ve passed me on the street, and I don’t remember too many of them. Most of ‘em don’t stick out in my mind as the Dior Homme collection is.
See, the Dior Homme collection is an obnoxious forgettable person. You’ll remember the smell of it.

The smell of this collection is a girl- a groupie- who’s having sex with a rapper. It’s the smell of the girl as she turns 40 and her she’s telling the story in a bar someplace. It’s the smell of the girl post-sex with rapper.

Really, the guy who wears these sort of clothes will look like a sleaze. That guy who slicks his hair back and tries to pick you up with his voice oiler than his hair. I almost think that the clothes themselves are trying to pick me up. “Do you want to go out, Eden?” I respond with a slap.

I was watching the excellent “IT crowd” last night, and one of the characters was trying on varying forms of dicky glasses which made them look like an asshole (this was the point, because he said women liked bastards more than any other type of a guy and was trying to prove it. Just go watch it. Watch all of ‘em).
Anyway, maybe the character should try on glasses from the Dior Homme show. Here we have varying forms of bastardry. Put these glasses that look like rejects from a B-science fiction movie on, and you’ll look like an idiot! The sort of idiot of shaves his hair short, dyes it platinum blond, and puts those glasses on and does the patented “cool guy” look. You know the one. You’ve seen it all the time, down the street. The guy walking like an ape is probably doing it.

One reviewer (for style dot come, I believe) said the designer “tried too hard”.
I’ve been avoiding saying this for the entire review, because I despise the phrase. It’s a lazy way of saying you don’t like something without saying why.
Yet I need to say that the designer- Kris, did try too hard with this collection. Or he didn’t try at all.
Maybe he tried to redefine what Dior Homme is all about, when in reality he managed to remind us what was so great about Hedi’s collections.
There’s nothing wrong with redefining the Dior Homme brand- this isn’t Chanel. Before Hedi it was all licensed out clothes sold at duty free shops. Plenty of ties, white business shirts and not much else.
There’s nothing redefined here anyway. In future, I suspect this collection will be politely forgotten. That’s what the fashion people do.