I am in a corner of a Parisian nightclub, after an hour in the queue, followed by a tequila orange juice drink, and I am suddenly in a creative mood. Inspiration is fucking weird. Sometimes it will strike when you are walking through a beautiful field on a sunny day, and sometimes it will hit you like a brick in a dark club at the Matières Fécales afterparty.

I watched the people around me, all dressed in the style the brand has been synonymous with, and I began to feel comforted by the lack of performative energy in the room. Everyone was just themselves. They were unapologetic in outfits that looked like a love child of Rick Owens, McQueen and an alien vampire.

They were also smiling, enjoying their night, not bothering anyone with obscure and pointless conversations and only chatting in a manner that was so far from threatening you could only measure it with quettameters (it’s the longest standard unit of length, I looked it up, it’s a thing).

For me, it was a little look behind the curtain of a recently popularised subculture. Okay, one could argue that if it has been popularised, it immediately loses its subculture status. Still, there, among people expressing themselves in such a pure way, I could not dare call it culture. Because, unfortunately, culture is, or at least has become (in most cases), mostly performative.

It made me think of the brand itself. It is truly like that. Matières Fécales creates fashion for their people. Unlike many other designers, they wear the clothes they design, almost exclusively, might I add. They also believe in the same things their clothes stand for—physical, emotional, sexual and mental liberation. Be as weird as you can be. Be so weird that the word weird loses all meaning, and you become just you.

That’s how I felt there. I was given permission to be weirdly expressive. I, of course, was not wearing the brand. For me, it would feel like a costume, and that would actively defeat the purpose of the whole event. It was more emotional, though. I felt the emotional liberation of being in a crowd that does not hide behind trends and cycles and knows exactly what it is.

To be honest, this sort of subculture would save my 16-year-old self. At an age when not fitting in meant facing the wrath of teenagers who were weirded out by differences, but had not developed enough empathy or emotional maturity to understand how to respect those differences in human experiences, this would have been my salvation. Understanding that I can just be me, I can dress differently, behave differently, and I will be accepted because different is good. Oh man, what could have been.

I’m glad I got to experience it for a while, though. Among the hype-induced buzz of fashion week nonsense, we found a place that is free. Of course, since it is still PFW and Matières Fécales has become quite a popular brand (good for them, honestly), there are some risks. When a brand like that enters the public space and becomes part of the cultural discourse, people will appear who only enter the spaces for the hype. They do not adjust themselves, bringing their performative bs with them. They are true to themselves, sure, maybe, but only to that version of themselves they put on every fashion month as they move through spaces, holding their head high and their egos higher.

Babe, we all (well, most of us) got a ticket and stood in a queue here. We all entered the same space, which frankly, does not belong to you and are now visitors. You have enough spaces, maybe try chilling a bit.

I wouldn’t say there is a visible difference between me and them, though. I am also not familiar with the intricacies of what Matières Fécales’ designs are conveying and are inspired by. I also just bought a ticket as a big fan of the brand’s work and someone unable to secure an invitation to their show (what a shame, I’ll keep trying, though).

I felt a bit odd coming into a space that matters so much to people, because I know it doesn’t mean the same to me. But I can still feel the meaning. I feel the importance through random chats, crazy DJ sets, and screams of the crowd. I can see people to whom it matters, and that fills my heart with joy.

It’s magical how this community managed to stay largely unaffected by, well, you know, the things we all find weird and unnecessary within the whole fashion sphere. It feels suspended in time and space. It exists and develops, but only by its own rules.

I was typing up my notes throughout the night, but I had to take a two-hour break when we entered the room and saw the c**tiest (sorry, I literally have no other way to describe them) DJ standing on top of the stage, with a little iPad, slightly moving, mixing so incredibly we could not help but move (in a very seizurely fashion). They mixed techno with 2010 bangers and then back to techno, all while holding onto that **little iPad. We have tried to find the name of the DJ but were unsuccessful, so if you somehow know, please please pleaseeee tell me. I want to listen to more of their mixes and perhaps give my life for them (idk still deciding).

Then the iconic Lewis G. Burton took the stage in the middle of the room. After their absolutely insane performance, which involved two men with white-painted faces and latex bottoms and a lot more of ‘you really had to be there’ variety, they gave a speech that inspired change in the face of oppression.

It made me think of what the rise of a brand like Matières Fécales means for other people and for other designers. The fact that a brand that stands so strongly on its values has risen to the top and has become the talk of the fashion world opens doors for others. For other people, creatives and designers who refuse to be anything other than who they are, this is a good day, a glimpse of hope in the world that seems to enjoy taking one step forward and ten steps back.

After the icon iconed, the designers themselves began their set. Their intro was ‘Marry The Night’ by Lady Gaga (a long-time supporter of the brand). We all went crazy. What a song, what a way to start and what a way to transition into a set that was as unbelievable as the brand’s new collection.

After that, we just danced. We came home at 3 am, with our feet killing us, my hand hurting from trying to hold up the phone high enough to get good MKH content (you’re welcome lol), and McDonald’s on its way. I had to take a shower as soon as I returned. Do you know how much dancing I have had to do to justify doing a full body and hair wash at 3 am? My heart was full, though. It’s been a while since I’ve experienced an event so fun, pure of heart and aggressively non-problematic. So, being who I am, I had to write about it.