Maison Martin Margiela

There's a common assumption that Maison Martin Margiela deals only in the avant garde and the absurd. However, there’s a lot more to the house than the purely outrageous. Margiela menswear, like that of fellow Belgians Raf Simons and Dries Van Noten, is refined and clean cut – classic silhouettes given a slight twist. The Margiela man is one ready for any occasion – the same sweeping lines and oversized drapery equally suitable for a gallery opening or dinner with the boss.

The thing with Margiela is that it’s all in the detail: a subtle lining hidden underneath, ready to reveal itself to the world when the hem’s turned up; a classic tuxedo, beautifully cut, with fat, starched lapels; an outfit built purely in a smorgasbord of blues, one shade subtly playing off against the others. It’s beautiful stuff, clothes as art, like Rothko meeting Serra in a textile factory in the backstreets of Antwerp.

If there’s a theme to Margiela then it’s the exploration of size and space, of volume and weights and lucidity. Take the traditional as a starting point and beam a spotlight right through the middle. The house works new, fluid, transparent fabrics into the oldest standard garments: waxed cotton raincoats with a striped lining visible from the outside; cummerbunds crafted out of malleable wood; beautiful cracked leather belts no thicker in width than a standard shoelace.

The company’s artisanal approach leads to an aesthetic that’s edgy and distinct whilst still being eminently wearable. Although less of a conceptual art project now that the man himself is no longer a part of the company, Margiela creates clothes that allude to both the past and the future, never entrenched in a particular time. Sure, the mystery that drove the company when Margiela was the driving force may no longer be there in such abundance, but who wants to be defined purely by past glories anyway?