I have three friends who dress monochrome. They wear Zambesi mostly, some NOM*d and Rick Owens. A bit of Ann Demeulemeester. Clever labels that specialise in sophisticated, dramatic clothes.
They're that well put together, these three, it doesn't often strike me that I see them only in black. They'll do white but not much of it - just a flash of a snowy T-shirt to leaven the hue. I was with them last weekend in Wellington, and I noticed one of them had charcoal nail polish on her toes. "Grey, darling, for summer," she said. Who knew there were seasonal variations in monochrome?
My black-clad friends looked right in Wellington. It's been a while since that "dark and moody" aesthetic was the only story in New Zealand fashion, thankfully. Set against a cultural backdrop of windswept Jane Campion films and spooky Chills' songs, that look worked, but it doesn't do to get pigeon-holed.
Good on Karen Walker, Stolen Girlfriends Club, World and all the rest for showing that we can also do bright and bold. But black remains stubbornly rooted in the national psyche, and so long as a certain group of fellas keep playing in it, will probably continue to do so.
If there is a ground zero for dark and moody dressing, I would designate Wellington. Dunedin may be the spiritual home of the New Zealand punk scene, and the headquarters of NOM*d, our darkest, coolest label, but it's Wellington with its wild wind and storm-tossed harbour that calls for the drama of an all-black ensemble.