On Friday night, the vaulted ceilings of the Posthoornkerk formed a hauntingly beautiful backdrop for Tim Christiani’s debut show Nor dread nor hope. The collection unfolded as a meditation on grief, not as pure sorrow but as a cycle of transformation. Between light and shadow, models moved through the church, their movements hasty, almost ritualistic.
When we last spoke to Christiani, their focus was on human hair, chosen for its intimate and symbolic connection to the body. This season, that fascination shifted to feathers. Jet-black plumes, seemingly from a crow, speared from the collar of a white blouse and reappeared at the hem of a black satin skirt, suggesting both protection and decay, mourning and renewal.
Contrasts of exposure and restraint defined the silhouette. A sheer leopard-print blouse opened down the back, revealing skin beneath the feral fabric. A sleeveless jacket with a stiff collar raising above the ears opened up all the way to the waist. Asymmetrical skirts cut sharply at the hip bone were buttoned along one side, threatening to slip but never losing their composure. Ultra-low waist trousers revealed faint tan lines left on the body, a subtle trace of life imprinted on the skin.
There was risk in the amount of exposure, yet nothing felt gratuitous. Christiani understands how to dress a woman’s body, how to carve strength out of sensuality, how to let vulnerability read as confidence. Each look, no matter how revealing, was meticulously constructed to honour rather than objectify.
Elsewhere, a silver crocodile jacket opened wide across the chest and shimmered like a quilted skin. A white circle skirt with a matching jacket swayed as it moved, strands of human hair draped softly over the shoulders, recalling Christiani’s earlier collection In and Out of Grace. Latex coats and opaque trench pieces reflected the brightly lit church and testified to the designer’s technical skill. The show ended with a model encased in a high-necked latex dress, buttoned down the spine, turning slowly inside a glass-lit box like a doll, a quiet and haunting finale.
In Nor dread nor hope, Christiani captures what it means to face the inevitable: to resist and to yield, to expose and to protect. His debut marks not an ending, but a beginning born from loss, a testament to how the body, and the designer who dresses it, can hold both power and tenderness at once.
Images by Rogier van Eck
