First published by T Magazine on 18 September 2015
In a presentation space at London’s Institute of Contemporary Arts, the designer Molly Goddard is turning a group of models in party dresses into a no-nonsense sandwich-production line. A series of white tables fill the space, each with its own prop: a tub of chopped tomatoes; a foil tray of lettuce leaves; a platter of cheese slices — and, of course, piles upon piles of white bread. “It’s OK to look a bit bored,” she directs the models, arranging them in pairs. She herself looks entirely relaxed. There are seven minutes until show time.
Molly, 26, is one of London’s most notable fashion up-and-comers: she is receiving NEWGEN sponsorship from the British Fashion Council and Topshop for a second season, which has provided her with the support and funding she needed to hold this presentation. But that doesn’t keep it from being a family affair: Molly’s mother, a former art teacher, has designed the stark factory set at which the models are making sandwiches, and her father, a graphic designer, is up a stepladder helping to build it. Her sister, Alice, a stylist, is close by her side at all times, ensuring that the models look just right. “They’re meant to look like grumpy teenagers,” she says, “so they have oily hair and black eyeliner.”
The models are all dressed in Molly’s vision of partywear: one wears a long, off-white gown over lurid green leggings, while another wears a fluffy, pink dress layered over a visible black bikini. The collection includes cotton smocking, tartan, embroidered tulle and patchwork T-shirts with large floral prints. The designer began with memories of childhood trips to the English seaside: She recalled photos of herself on gray beaches, where the sundress she had worn would turn out not to be warm enough, and she’d have to add a thick sweater and boots. But the idea has evolved in the making. “I did really want to do jumpers, but it’s just not really happened,” she says, with a characteristically calm shrug.
The sandwich factory wasn’t the original plan for today’s presentation, either. “Initially I wanted to do a very bleak, English, vegetable fair — like a horticultural show,” she says. “But every time I told anyone about it, they got the very wrong end of the stick — and it always went back to being really twee and pretty.” The bleakness was essential, because her work has an inherent sweetness that she is keen to offset. Though this is only her second season on the official schedule, she’s been known for one pretty signature ever since her 2012 Central Saint Martins BA show: She works with pink tulle. It was in the collection she designed for ASOS in 2013, and at the off-schedule event she held in 2014 — when she gathered a group of her friends together for a party, dressed them in her line and invited press to drop by (“Didn’t have any money, didn’t really spend any money,” she recalls. “Made all the clothes in my kitchen at home, by myself, pretty much”).
And there was more tulle — alongside taffeta and corduroy — last season. As a result, when it comes to the reactions of press and buyers, “you always get ‘tutu’ and ‘frou-frou’ and those words,” explains Molly. “My dresses are very pink and frilly – but then they’re very comfortable, and easy to wear, and big, and I like to think a bit scruffy sometimes.” They are, in fact, perfect to wear over denim or knitted sweaters, should you be so inclined.
Her sister Alice helps to get this offbeat message across. She injects dishevelled styling into Molly’s lookbooks and presentations, and casts the models not from an agency, but from the street or on Facebook. “Alice always really gets it, and gets the right look for the girls,” says Molly. “And it’s not necessarily a specific look; it’s a kind of feel, if that makes sense.” There is no obvious theme to the girls she has chosen, though all of them have an air of soulful awkwardness that fits the collection’s adolescent vibe. The Goddard sisters themselves are the perfect illustration of how the label should be worn: Today, Molly is wearing a regal, puff-sleeved dress with flat ankle-boots, while Alice has a black frock over her jeans. They look like two teenagers who have been rifling through the dressing-up box — and they couldn’t be further from frou-frou.