I’ve Never Gotten Rid of A Piece of Dries Van Noten

Every season after the new collections have tromped down the runway and paraded through your Instagram feeds, the onus falls on magazine editors to compile the inevitable (and at-times dreaded) trend reports to catalog the key takeaways for their audiences. For me, this means digesting the collections I’ve seen by clicking through them all about a million times, trying to spot unique consistencies—pardon my oxymoron. In today’s world of algorithmic commercialism, you can find three—the contingency clause for trend-spotting—of almost anything; this is an arduous selection process. After years of gathering data, I know now that the biggest compliment I can pay to a brand is when I struggle to fit it into my trend report. No matter how hard I try, it is always difficult to link Dries Van Noten to the fickle fluctuations of the fashion trend pendulum.

I could spend hours flagging my favorite old Dries runway looks. When I see the perfect iridescent blazer over a crisp white blouse or khaki pants with the most obscene yet wearable print, something stirs within me. We’re familiar with his well-championed mastery of color and print, a skill only his proficiency in scale and proportion eclipses. In wielding those abilities, he circumlocutes fads and sidesteps trends. Very few Dries pieces ever look dated, save for the odd of-the-moment bomber or exposed zipper. The design comes from a gifted mind, not a well-trained algorithm. It’s vibes over clicks, beauty instead of trend.

The design comes from a gifted mind, not a well-trained algorithm.

I hate a gimmick—ask anyone I work with, or better yet, anyone who knows me. I like wearable clothing with a sprinkle—a dash, not a pour—of intellectual irony. Nothing should feel silly, but at the same time, we shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously. I want clothes, not symbols. I don’t think I’m alone in saying I feel like Dries gets me. Nothing he designs is ever too oversized or too shrunken, too loud or too soft. Yet the styling is startlingly intuitive.

Dries, for instance, rarely falls back on matching; rather than pair a red blouse with a heel of the same hue, he’ll choose something perfectly, minutely perverse. He’ll show gold glitter stripes with a blue scarf print and lilac brocade, as in Spring 2018. Maybe the Fall ’17 navy turtleneck (almost) matches the indigo denim, but there’s ikat outerwear and a grey pump—the perfect pearlescent addition—to throw you off. He mixes the stereotypically drab (cotton poplin, pinstriped wool) with the strikingly flamboyant (flashy sequins and rich brocade).

I wish I had a better story about the first time a Dries collection spoke to me, but his magic worked its way into my bloodstream in a trickle, not a blast. In my first real job working in the closet of a major fashion publication, the brand was elusive. It wasn’t an advertiser, meaning editors rarely prioritized calling the pieces in for shoots. But even when they did, the brand rarely lent to us; press clippings were obviously not the top priority. I have so much respect for someone who lets the work speak for itself instead of chasing attention.

His magic worked its way into my bloodstream in a trickle, not a blast.

Throughout the years, the additions to my personal collection have been sparing, always bought secondhand or at a major discount. First, there was a black sequinned muscle tank with shoulder pads. Dries styled it with army-green fatigues and a crow-like feather adornment—oh, and striped d'Orsay pumps—in the Spring 2019 collection. Then came a navy ikat vest (Spring 2014) from a vintage store in New Orleans, and a red shift dress with a tonal crinkled ruffle detail on one shoulder from The RealReal; it’s seasonless, and I wear it year-round. There’s also the plaid turtleneck that has become a layering staple and a sleeveless orange knit tank embroidered with gold thread I love to pair with casual denim. I’ve never gotten rid of a piece from Dries Van Voten. Because he’s never on trend, I don’t tire of anything—you can’t go out of style if you’re never in style.

I’m sad to see the eponymous label lose such a brilliant mind (though hopeful those acting behind the current will continue to dazzle us). But I remember that at the close of each collection, a man, not a concept, steps out to take his final bow. His bountiful documentary is my comfort movie; his botanical home tour is my safe haven. But his own uniform, reiterated season after season, is much simpler. You can always look forward to a perfectly layered combination of a navy sweater, a cotton button-down or white T-shirt, a dark-hued trouser, and a white sneaker or brown brogue. What can I say? He loves contrast.

Click through our senior style editor’s favorite looks throughout the seasons below.