History was always fundamental to Lee McQueen’s work, so there was something appropriately medieval in the notion of the house of McQueen passing from the hands of its faithful and steady steward Sarah Burton into the nebulous unknown of the corporate quest for a successor. The sense of a long game coming to an end added an additional layer of drama to Burton’s farewell on Saturday. She dedicated her last show to Lee’s memory. And she so clearly defined her own contributions to his legacy that you felt for whoever has to follow her in this most sainted and benighted of fashion houses.

Burton grew radically in the job after Lee’s death in 2010, softening some of his hard edges, feminizing his male precision, but still preserving the fiercely acute tailoring, the moulded leathers, the historical romance, like the Tudor roses printed here on slip dresses. The armour-like articulation on a denim jacket might have felt quintessentially McQueen but it was actually pure Burton. Same with her attention to surface detail, which was most macabre/gorgeous in the jacket smeared with blood red embroidery ending in a dripping trail of red fringe. It was a typically fearless final flourish from Burton, well in keeping with the spirit of the man whose legacy she has nourished and expanded for 13 years. Beat that, her flourish said. Because if you can’t, Burton will, wherever she ends up.

Read the full review by Tim Blanks in our #linkinbio.

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