It’s cold here in Copenhagen. A halfhearted shower has lent every surface of the city a shiny, wet glean. The air is crisp, and the wind-chill factor feels like an unacceptable number of degrees below zero.
I shiver and rattle my bones from the minute I step out of the cab and make a dash for the terracotta brick building of the Lokomotivværkstedet – a 100-year-old train repair shop that’s playing host to a few shows during Copenhagen Fashion Week. Today, I’m here to see Stamm, a newcomer to the biannual event that has particularly caught my eye with its fresh spin on outerwear and creative craftsmanship.
The runway — dreamed up in silvers and yellows — is nestled inside the massively sprawling space of the venue, and it snakes around like a square-shaped labyrinth. Above, a large-scale screen projects an alien head bobbing through space. Beep-boop, beep-boop. An interstellar soundscape, produced by Berlin-based Patrick Hussain, swells through the air as the first model steps onto the reflective metallic runway. He’s clad in a black, knee-length leather skirt, a backpack full of pendulous lobster claws (a type of plant with fantastical, paddle-like flowers) slung over his shoulder. He wanders; it’s as if he’s been cut loose from his home planet and has just made an unplanned landing on earth.