For Charles Jeffrey’s first standalone show at London Fashion Week Men’s, the 26-year-old creative presented a characteristically outlandish display of wild colour and textures along with scrawled and splattered body paint. One T-shirt designed by the king of the London club scene bore the caption: “Children high on drink and drugs”. Jeffrey likes to spell out his rebellious ideas to his attentive (and equally OTT) audience, but his vision is much more than clothes. The brand is a celebration of London’s queer community, that the CSM grad has become a poster boy for and the press release did not fail to leave an impression. Read the manifesto below to reveal the multi-faceted identity of Charles Jeffrey’s LOVERBOY.
This collection is an orgy: a Hogarth-portrait, an erratic scribble. A secret garden, a smoking area. A deliberate snapshot of the mind of an easily distracted LOVERBOY. Jeffrey continues to lovingly piece together ways of dealing with reality… With clothes made of dreams.
It’s the right kind of extremism: dancing in the face of threats to freedom; celebrating the beauty of queer hedonism. It’s not enough to stay woke – we need to be alive.
An orgasm of Fragonard roses are blooming from trodden soil, erupting into euphoric explosions that break down barriers.
This is the pulsating Portrait of a LOVERBOY.
A Ditchley portrait through the lens of LaChapelle.
In the world of LOVERBOY, time is vertical. The past is a different country and everyone is welcome. History
is pieced together with a narrative that fidgets; Where mistakes are justified.
Tudor street urchins and cross-dressing infants are playing cards in the corner. Buckled tartan punks and
mantilla-clad Duchesses are exchanging numbers. Fulham rugby boys and towering Hussar soldiers get it off.
Byronic heroes, in billowing muslin that will inevitably cling to sweaty skin, come to the rescue of caked-up,
coked-up bright young things. Acid-washed city slickers buy a round of drinks for the mini-skirted mudlarks in
second-hand doublets. The demi-mondaine discovers the joys of establishment tailoring.
As reality becomes more unrecognisable, an absurd satire of itself, the romantic fantasies of our imagination
become more real than ever. Space was a nice place to visit, but we’re crashing back down to earth.
Feel the sensation. Taste the sweat. Smell the roses.