This collection completed what Hung La has envisioned as a Lu’u Dan trilogy. It has cycled through angsty rebels and masked criminals, the guys attracted to a menacing guise because it’s one of the ways they can override their invisibility elsewhere.
As the third installment, which La named No Man’s Land in reference to undefined spaces—with an even more loaded suggestion of disputed territory during a war—the plot shifted. Perhaps because last season’s looks gave peak ominous, he had nowhere else to turn but towards the light. “It’s not clear when the sun will come out, and this guy is still very defiant; he hasn’t found his space in the world, but he is [starting to find] his footing in society,” said La.
You only needed a cursory glance at many of the typically exaggerated and striking silhouettes to discover how they were back in shades of… vanilla, banana cream pie, butter. In some cases, this involved a deliberate process of transformation. The bleached denim started out black with the aim of “sucking out” the darkness. Other pieces such as a wadded jersey coat or velvet version of a bulletproof vest were about conveying softness, too.
La noted the significance of representing the blue collar experience. “It’s my parents’ generation—the taxi driver, the factory worker; [they were] educated and prominent in their country of origin and came to America and were forgotten and didn’t have space.”
Perhaps this helps explain why La is never afraid to pump up the volume. Yet the rigor he absorbed at Celine and Balenciaga continues to inform how he constructs garments, whether they are made from tarps purchased on Amazon or reflective tape. The average customer may not gravitate towards a pair of outlaw chaps, but those who do will find they are impeccably made.
Sub themes included “down-cycled” knits patched together from vintage sweaters; prints that riffed on “punk flyers” with anarchic graphics; a military detour—see the army green bomber and an XXL leather coat that looked like it had been on several tours of duty—and pieces in gray and black plaid wadded flannel that La said introduced a West Coast vibe.
Three-and-a-half years into Lu’u Dan, the brand brings an authentic voice to these dualities of violence and protection. It’s La’s take on Leonard Cohen’s famous lyric about cracks letting the light in. “There are so many cracks, right? When we do these collections, we speak to kids that feel like they need to rebel from all the structures, all the conformity. These collections are really about being an outsider,” said La. “You see the energy now, that this has its own life.” A little light goes a long way.