Steven Cox and Daniel Silver held agang meeting at Industria the other day. These boys appear to do battle by means of much style flexing and disaffection. It's no longer who's the meanest, toughest kid on the block. Now, it's who's the leanest, most androgynous man on the runway. Clothing that used to act as armor has melted into something more akin to skin. Bombers, hoodies, puffers and trousers with many pleats are cut in nylon so weightless that it all but disappears on the body. The closest thing to a banal denim or leather were a few pieces cut in waxed cotton and tweed. The effect was compelling like so much of what these guys do season after season. They have an uncanny way of altering ones view of what is, nudging you to embrace what could be. I've never left one of their shows without feeling the urge to try something new. The dated romance of garish logos and cumbersome hardware has been shelved and traded for moody shaded cabbage roses digitally printed on silk satin faced organza in matching anoraks over boyfriend shorts, t-shirts, shirts and trousers. Whatever aggression these roving packs of testosterone pumping warriors project or the fear they inspire, we are disarmed by their beauty. We stand and stare and no longer run and hide. What was once a threat is now pure seduction. Fay is the new butch.