Gridskipper

Berlin's Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week kicked off with one of the few big names on the program — Hugo Boss. Before I start in on why Hugo Boss overdid it, it's important to note that Germans overdo everything, so it's probably unfair to give Hugo a hard time. (This first photo, for example, is from the collection by the fine folks at Torsten Amft.) Let me explain: Do Berlin clubs really need to stay open until 5 p.m. the next day? No. Do Germans really need to drive 180 miles per hour on the autobahn? No. Must they drink beer at breakfast? Hopefully not. But they do — because they're German, and somehow, therein lays their charm. If the Germans are going to do anything, they're going to do it to the extreme. They take a good idea — or even a bad idea — as far as it can go, and then some. Nihilism, hedonism, and sadomasochism all have their own niche in the collective German consciousness. And let's not forget fascism. Berliners definitely haven't, since it's all over Fashion Week here.

A recent New York Times article by Nicholas Kulish mentioned of Berlin's willingness to erect monuments to the victims of its former politics, thereby exposing countless skeletons that other cities would rather keep locked in the closet. Kulish writes, "Why Germany seems unendingly obsessed with Nazism is itself a subject of perpetual debate here, ranging from the nation's philosophical temperament, to simple awe at the unprecedented combination of organization and brutality, to the sense that the crime was so great that it spread like a blot over the entire culture."

Somehow this phenomenon has even made its way into Fashion Week. Hugo Boss, the same designer responsible for fashioning the SS army attire of the Third Reich, debuted a collection that can only be described as Nazi-chic in an "off site" Fashion Week venue that was once meant to be the gateway to "Germania" and what would have been Hitler's Europe. Flughafen Tempelhof — the "Mother of all airports" named for the Knights Templar, used by the Prussians for civic parades, serving both as a badge of Nazi pride and center of operations for the Berlin Airlift — is obviously the perfect place to launch your collection of iron-cross-laden, stiff-silhouetted, black, gray, and white designs for the fashion-conscious androgynous citizen of tomorrow's totalitarian regime. Over on Style.com, VIP Ellen von Unwerth is quoted as saying, "The show was very, very German. Everyone, from the models to all the people in the audience, were so serious!" Nice try Ellen, but I believe the word you were looking for is fascist.

It's not that the context-appropriate aesthetic wasn't well conceived or executed; it was just a tad overdone, in keeping with the German tradition of extremes. Other Berlin Fashion Week shows also embraced a bevy of Berlin and German stereotypes, with fetish gear marching down the runway at Marcel Ostertag's show, felt garden gnome hats inspired by Swabia from Sisi Wasabi, and studded gun belts recalling Cold War accessories by Unrath and Strano. These designers are all German, but the Hugo Boss show was the work and premiere of Belgian designer Bruno Pieters. Apparently the lesson here echoes that tried and true proverb, "When in Berlin, do as the Fascists/Fetishists/Bavarians/Soviets do." Jawohl.

Hugo Boss.

Hugo Boss.

Hugo Boss.

Marcel Ostertag.

Sisi Wasabi.

Unrath and Strano.

Michael Michalsky.