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LONDON, United Kingdom — There is a quintessential British sombreness to the work of Margaret Howell — plain yet luxurious fabrics, clean lines, a muted palette of neutrals — that to non-British observers can seem a little a bit sad. The constant quest for timelessness and the inner classicism of Howell's output, not to mention the poetic plainness of her shows, are other characteristics that put a writer's skills to the test. But Howell's strength lies exactly in her peculiar position at the periphery of fashion, where classicism and invention are united. Her contributions are all about subtle details: the weight of a cotton drill on the with of some trousers' waistline.
Her work might not scream on the catwalk, but it speaks volumes when worn. The fact that Howell does not feel the need to follow the rules of the runway and send out something attention-seeking just for the sake of it is a testament to both her tenure and stature. Her show today felt light and poetic: another small step forward in her ongoing mediation on what contemporary classicism should be.
