Behind the scenes with DSquared2.
It’s just two days before DSquared2’s
spring/summer 2012 Glastonbury-inspired runway show, and I’ve been able to snag
a precious couple of hours with designers Dean and Dan Caten. When I arrive at
their Milan headquarters a little early, the first person I run into is Dan,
who is trying to dart out the automatic sliding gold tinted glass doors with a
half-eaten banana in hand. “I’ll be right back,” he says to me with a slightly
exasperated smile. With his low-slung jeans, a crumpled white button- down
shirt, black boots and an arm full of neon concert bracelets, he looks like a
rock star trying to steal a break between sets. But before he can depart,
fashion blogger Bryanboy sashays out of the showroom and into the mirrored
lobby with an entourage of photographers trailing behind him. He’s wearing big
shades and a lime-green sequined sweater draped over his shoulders, and he’s
carrying a big black DSquared2 bag full of clothes which he’ll show off from
the front row at the upcoming runway extravaganza. Dan pauses again to say
goodbye. “I’ll see you at the show,” calls out Bryanboy as he waves and heads
to his chauffeured car.
With
his low-slung jeans, a crumpled white button- down shirt, black boots and an
arm full of neon concert bracelets, he looks like a rock star trying to steal a
break between sets.
I’m ushered into the spacious
polished-cement show-room where Dan’s twin, Dean, and several assistants are
lo-cused on model fittings and boot drama. “We’re trying to calculate the
boots,” explains Dean. Calculate? In true over-the-top DSquarcd2 style, the
“Rock Summer Festival 2012”-thcmed show includes an assortment of custom-made
rain bow-coloured high-heeled rubber willies but there aren’t enough for all
the models. The handwritten “boot plan” they are pondering looks like a series
of complex algebraic for mulas: “ORANGE: Aymehne x 2, 2 Caterina (1)—>
Emily*.
“We’re
trying to calculate the boots,” explains Dean.
The “Rock Summer Festival 2012”-thcmed show
includes an assortment of custom made rain bow-coloured high-heeled rubber willies
but there aren’t enough for all the models.
“It’s a real headache,” says Dan as he
rejoins the group. “How many red boots, who can switch...” Dean jumps in. “‘Who
can give their boots to who,” continues Dan, “and we have a lot more model
fittings to do.” “We’ve done maybe five so far to day,” concludes Dean. It’s
obvious by the way the brothers finish each other’s sentences that they are on
the same wavelength they even share an office with one long, sleek black desk
and matching computers. Moments later, model Anaïs Pouliot arrives to try on
looks for the show. “It’s a Canadian reunion!” announces Dean, as Pouliot, who
grew up in Chicoutimi, Que., coms out from the change area in faux-mud-caked
jeans and boots, an embroidered vest and a T-shirt, also splattered with faux
mud. While the Catens now divide their time between Milan and London, “Canada
will always be home for us,” says Dean. (And there is almost always a Canadian
reference in their shows. This season, there’s a yellow Niagara Falls
windbreaker and a fringed Manitoba bag.)
“It’s
a Canadian reunion!” announces Dean
While
the Catens now divide their time between Milan and London, “Canada will always
be home for us,” says Dean.
“Something’s not right,” says Dan as he
fusses with Pouliot’s scarf. He tries rolling the T-shirt sleeves and then
calls out, “Can you get me a pair of scissors?” an assistant complies. Dan
quickly slices off the sleeves, and everyone approves. “Much better,” he says.
Another assistant cranks up the stereo and hands Pouliot a bottle of Heineken.
“Urn, maybe it’s a little early,” she demurs politely. “No, it’s a prop for you
to carry,” says Dan. We all laugh. As the custom mix of live concert anthems
from U2, Coldplay and Lenny Kravitz blares including the sound of cheering crowds
and Pouliot strides across the room clutching the beer bottle, I ask Dean if
they ever use a stylist. “No, there are no stylists, no babysitters. These
looks are our kids, and we’ll take care of them,” he answers.
“No,
there are no stylists, no babysitters. These looks are our kids, and we’ll take
care of them,” he answers.
Two days later, beneath strobe lights and
dry ice, I’m watching Pou hot strut her stuff again at the official show. This
time she’s in full festival-girl form, complete with rock-chic makeup and hair,
and she’s walking down a packed-dirt runway that is getting muddier with every
stomp. Suddenly, the circular stage set with its yellow and orange tents and a
vintage VW van spins to reveal a music-festival-worthy mud pit complete with mud-caked
concert-goers. As the fashion crowd cheers and that same custom concert
soundtrack reverberates through my body, it feels like U2 has really taken the
stage. Glastonbury foes indeed rock!
