The Enfants Riches Deprimes Crowd Dresses Exactly How You'd Expect
In a stunning twist of fate likely to shock no one at all, the crowd outside an Enfants Riches Deprimes presentation looks... exactly like who you'd expect to pull up. Highsnobiety was on the scene for ERD's off-calendar but on-brand happening, which was packed with a pantheon of punkish people.
The young and the beautiful were all dolled up in their dark eyeshadow and ripped tees, sneering for the camera like so many photogenic Sids and Nancys.
Aside from a few folks turning up in the kinda post-ERD streetwear that's sprung up in imitation of the French label's particular brand of admirably well-worn ultra-luxury, most people were living the life.
Tousled hair, dark sunglasses, skinny jeans, safety pins, an abundance of silver, and nary a smile to be found. Lots of snug-fitting leather, too, topped off by confederate soldier-style caps and cigarettes.
The most mirthful expression was the extremely slight smile offered by ERD founder Henri Alexander Levy, who darted away too quickly to chat. Not an easy guy to track down, that Levy.
And why should he be? His brand is only too glad to speak for itself.
If any brand exists to provoke, it's ERD. Guillotines as art pieces — the new collection is art-collector-inspired; several models hit the runway carrying paintings like clutches — and photoshoots starring art-house incendiaries (and lensed by "blacklisted" photogs to boot) are the tip of the ERD iceberg. How about the "racist uncle" loafer? Or the omnipresent (and obviously intentional) use of the iron cross?
If any of that bothers you, don't worry. This brand's $1,700 sweaters and $1,400 trousers will likely be the final straw, which very much is the point.
ERD's instigations and pricing scheme is an intentional barrier to entry, a built-in defensive mechanism intended to keep the uninitiated out. It's the same fuck-you mentality that powered the Seditionaries-clad punk of yesteryear, just in a different price bracket. And as we saw on the ground in Paris, there are clearly plenty of people for whom this punk pastiche is sweet, sweet music.
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