Comme des Garcons has never been content to merely clothe bodies—it seeks to interrogate them. Long before “gender fluidity” became a mainstream conversation, Rei Kawakubo’s designs dismantled the binary codes of fashion, transforming garments into provocations that challenge societal norms. From androgynous tailoring to distorted silhouettes, CdG’s work is a manifesto for fashion as a tool of liberation, where clothing exists not to define identity but to dissolve it.
The Androgyny Experiment
In the 1980s, when shoulder pads and hyper-femininity dominated womenswear, CdG introduced unstructured jackets, boxy cuts, and monochromatic palettes that rejected gendered aesthetics. Kawakubo’s 1982 “Destroy” collection—with its frayed edges, asymmetrical hems, and deliberate “unfinished” look—was a middle finger to the era’s polished glamour. Models strode down the runway in garments that obscured the body’s shape, rendering masculinity and femininity irrelevant. Critics called it “Hiroshima chic”; Kawakubo called it freedom.
This ethos persists in collections like 18th-Century Punk (2016), where ruffled Victorian blouses clashed with leather harnesses, and The Cloak of Light (2020), which draped both male and female forms in sheer, genderless volumes. CdG’s runway casts often feature non-binary and transgender models, not as a token gesture but as a natural extension of its philosophy: Clothes are not gendered—people are.
Anti-Fashion as a Political Act
Kawakubo’s rejection of traditional beauty standards extends beyond gender. Her designs frequently distort the body, using lumps, bumps, and exaggerated proportions to critique societal obsessions with perfection. The 1997 Body Meets Dress, Dress Meets Body collection—dubbed “Quasimodo chic” by critics—featured padded humps and protrusions that turned wearers into walking sculptures. These pieces weren’t just avant-garde; they were radical statements about autonomy, asking: Who decides what a body should look like?
In an era of Instagram face filters and algorithmic beauty trends, CdG’s celebration of the “imperfect” feels more urgent than ever. By designing clothes that refuse to flatter, Kawakubo challenges wearers to find power in discomfort, to embrace the grotesque as a form of resistance.
The Commercial Paradox: Luxury as Rebellion
CdG’s Play line—with its iconic heart-eyed logo—might seem at odds with its anti-establishment roots. Yet even here, subversion thrives. The line’s affordability (relative to mainline CdG) and streetwear-infused designs democratize the brand’s ethos, making its rebellion accessible. Collaborations with Converse and Supreme further blur the lines between high fashion and counterculture, proving that dissent can coexist with commerce.
But Kawakubo never lets consumers get too comfortable. Even Play’s cheerful aesthetic masks darker undertones; the heart logo, designed by Filip Pagowski, is both whimsical and eerily vacant—a wink at the emptiness of consumer obsession.
Legacy: Rewriting the Rules of Identity
Comme des Garcons’ greatest contribution to fashion isn’t a garment or a trend—it’s a question: Why must clothing have rules? By erasing boundaries between masculine/feminine, beautiful/grotesque, and luxury/street, Kawakubo has redefined what it means to get dressed. Younger designers like Harris Reed, Ludovic de Saint Sernin, and Telfar cite CdG as a blueprint for their own gender-neutral explorations, proving that its influence stretches far beyond the runway.
