2025
Glenn Martens raided the crypts of Maison Margiela and reanimated everything he found there. In chambers lined with peeling wallpaper and mismatched furniture, models emerged like Silent Hill nurses wearing wasp nest masks, wrapped in what appeared to be the contents of a Flemish manor house estate sale curated by crafty ghosts. Figures draped in metallic duchess satin moved like molten church bells over antique embossed wallpaper, their faces hidden behind masks crafted from discarded boxes, battered metal, shattered crystals, sheer organza, and appliqué lace—Martens’s homage to Margiela’s iconic face coverings.
These were gowns that looked like Renaissance tapestries had been photocopied, crumpled, and then lovingly reconstructed into sculptural forms worthy of cathedral altars, each surface a palimpsest of Dutch still-life paintings layered with vintage costume jewelry reliquary. Among them moved ghostly grey spectres sleekly draped in dim muted tones, figures that glided like shadows along ancient parapets and through secret corridors, their forms pared down to pure haunted elegance. Martens conjured an elegantly decaying world where saintly stone figures had raided the attics of crumbling chateaux, emerging with armfuls of tarnished treasures transformed into an unholy hodgepodge of hypnotic drama.
It was quite the sepulchral estate sale séance!
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