I have a weakness for clothes that take themselves very seriously.

Give me a gigantic skirt, a corset, enough crystals to require its own insurance policy and a woman walking towards me looking as though she has just been informed that the entire room belongs to her — and, honestly, I’m interested.

So Richard Quinn had me pretty much immediately.

At first, though, I thought something strange had happened.

Where was the riot?

Where were the saturated colours, the flowers going completely off the rails, the latex, the slightly unhinged glamour that makes a Richard Quinn collection feel like someone has taken every romantic fantasy they’ve ever had and decided, rather recklessly, to put all of it on a runway?

Instead, there was restraint.

Black. Ivory. Pale blue. Crystal. Velvet bows. Corseted waists. Enormous skirts.

Beautiful, yes. But controlled.

And then the latex appeared.

Oh.

There you are.

The second group of looks changed the conversation completely. Suddenly there were patent latex leggings, short dresses, ostrich feathers, a proper saturated red and enormous fabric roses sitting at the throat like corsages. The flowers weren’t just embroidered anymore. They were becoming things. Objects. Almost characters.

And that’s when I realised I hadn’t been looking at a quieter Richard Quinn collection at all.

I had been looking at two different women.

Two women, one wardrobe

The first woman is almost absurdly composed.

She arrives in floor-length silhouettes, corseted bodices and enormous ballgowns. There are crystal brooches at the bust, waist and throat, black velvet gloves and hair pulled so tightly away from the face that the whole thing has an almost porcelain quality.

The pale blue looks are particularly lovely because they soften all that severity without making it sweet.

And then there is that enormous black-and-lavender floral ballgown.

It is romantic in the old-fashioned sense of the word. Not cute. Not nostalgic in the Instagram sense. Romantic in the slightly dangerous sense — the kind of dress that makes you wonder where the woman wearing it is going afterwards.

Probably somewhere I can’t afford to get into.

Then comes the other woman.

She wears latex.

She has a rose at her throat.

She has feathers.

She has shorter hemlines.

And suddenly the whole thing feels less like a palace and more like the palace after midnight.

This is where Quinn starts speaking in the language we recognise from him: flowers, sexuality, shine, artificiality, drama. The black patent latex against the softness of floral prints is particularly effective because the contrast is almost ridiculous — and that’s precisely why it works.

Soft flower.

Hard latex.

Pretty dress.

Very un-pretty material.

Romance with a slightly dirty thought running underneath it.

I like that.

And then there are the flowers

The floral language is perhaps the most interesting part of the collection because Quinn doesn’t simply use flowers as decoration.

He keeps turning them into signatures.

The crystal brooch becomes one.

The velvet bow becomes another.

And then the actual fabric rose appears at the throat, almost like a corsage that has escaped from a much more respectable dress.

The black-and-yellow floral gown is another example of this. The flowers run across the body in repeated bands, almost like jewellery, while silver trims cut through them.

It is busy.

Very busy.

But somehow the eye knows where to go.

That’s the trick with Quinn. Maximalism can very quickly become visual noise. Here, even when there is an enormous amount happening, the silhouettes remain remarkably clear.

The clothes still have a shape.

And shape matters.

Especially when you’re dealing with this much decoration.

The corset gets interesting

There is one look I kept coming back to: the gold lace bodice with the beaded button placket and black tulle underneath.

Because this is where Quinn’s familiar corsetry starts doing something slightly different.

It doesn’t simply sculpt the body.

It suggests another kind of history — something almost Victorian, almost equestrian, almost aristocratic — but then the beading pushes it firmly into eveningwear.

It’s the kind of garment where you can stare at it for a while and keep finding another little decision.

And I think that is where this collection is strongest.

Not when Quinn simply gives us more.

When he takes something we already know and makes us look at it differently.

But I kept waiting for something

And this is where I got a little impatient.

Because the two sides of the collection are so good individually that I desperately wanted them to collide.

Give me the latex leg with that crystal corset.

Give me the giant ballgown with the fabric rose.

Give me saturated red inside the aristocratic chapter.

Give me the woman who looks perfectly respectable from the waist up and then — surprise — has a latex leg underneath.

Something.

Anything.

Because at the moment, the two women mostly take turns.

The aristocrat arrives.

Then the latex girl arrives.

Then the aristocrat comes back.

Then the latex girl.

It works as a runway rhythm, but it also makes the collection feel slightly divided.

And perhaps that’s the most interesting thing about it.

Because I don’t think the problem is that Quinn has too many ideas.

I think he has two very strong ones.

And I kept wanting to see what would happen if he stopped protecting them from each other.

So, where did the riot go?

Well, it didn’t disappear.

It was hiding.

Under the corsets.

Inside the embroidery.

In the roses.

In the latex.

In that ridiculous amount of crystal.

In the woman walking towards you in pale blue satin looking perfectly composed while carrying what feels like an entire romantic fantasy around her body.

This is still Richard Quinn.

The flowers are still there.

The drama is still there.

The glamour is definitely still there.

But there is something more controlled happening underneath it.

And I’m not entirely sure Quinn needs to choose between restraint and excess.

Actually, I think the most exciting version of this collection would be the moment he stops choosing.

Because maybe the aristocrat and the latex girl aren’t two women after all.

Maybe they’re the same woman.

Maybe she just has plans later.

And honestly?

I’d quite like to see what she’s wearing when she gets there.