CANDLES, CORSETS, AND COLONY ROOM GREEN: INSIDE GENEVIEVE DEVINE’S WORLD

WORDS RACHEL EDWARDS PHOTOGRAPHY CHARLOTTE GROCUTT - CAITLIN WALSH

Designer Genevieve Devine strikes me as someone who has no need for an electricity bill. It's easier to imagine her floating around her flat with a candle in her hand than it is to picture her turning on a light in her studio in North London. Her designs, which are made using antique fabrics and trinkets, certainly don't feel like they're designed in an era of driver-less cars and A.I therapy. They're elegant, sexy and, if she were crafting them eighty years ago, scandalous enough to have had her cancelled.

It makes sense, then, that her latest show Devine Intervention took place in Colony Room Green, a place once hailed "the seediest spot in Soho". The private members club and drinking den dates back to the 40s and was a hot spot for the likes of Sigmund Freud and Francis Bacon. It shut down in 2008, at which point artist Darren Coffield decided to take matters into his own hands, curating and and recreating the space in a new location just off Regent Street, with the same rule still applying: don't be boring.

I catch Genevieve outside, minutes before her show is due to start, and she's remarkably calm. "It's a funny story" she says, waving her hand at the entrance. "I was approached by Darren when I was drinking here one evening. He then asked if I wanted to do a fashion show to close the Jordan Mooney exhibition. When I offered to show him my line up and work he replied 'if it's shit it's in your name, and anyway this is how easy it should be [to get an opportunity]'".

We're ushered downstairs to a low-lit, intimate bar, much too small for the many bags I am lugging around. This is no place for tote bags – this is the place for a small clutch with nothing but a singular lipstick inside. A deep woody smell drifts through the room, something I later discover is homemade fragrance and scent brand Imra, baby of Zeinab Budi who is a close friend and long time model of Genevieve. In the bar, the models sip cocktails, whisper to one another, and dance with an air of seduction. Performer Alfreda appears with a microphone and starts to sing in cabaret style. Another model, who's wearing peach-toned velvet shorts stitched with scraps and tags, drapes her arms around the piano player.

The show offers a snapshot of the full collaboration with HOBAC artist Dave Baby, with the upcoming collection titled Devine Baby, and shows Baby's demons creep in to the designs. Staying true to her earlier work, Genevieve entices us with creations that treat clothing as a playful expression of eroticism and femininity, leaving us to wonder whether the models are performing a role or simply responding naturally to wearing them. I think of her pieces as a sort of wearable xanax – pop one on before a date to eliminate nerves. I look over at one of Genevieve's longest standing muses Caitlin Walsh, who is wearing a rich burgundy corset paired with low-slung oversized trousers that have an intentional rip, something she refers to as an "arse window". Glancing around, I don't know if I've ever seen a show where the models look quite so comfortable, quite so at home. When it comes to Genevieve's work, her pieces tread the line between second skin and a form of armour.

After the show we stand outside and it feels like everybody's still in character. Drags of cigarettes appear to be more intentional, eye contact is held for longer. I get talking to one of Genevieve's previous interns, who is still gushing about the experience. That's the thing with Genevieve – she has no interest in the scary, ego-driven side of the fashion industry. If the devil wears Prada, the angel wears Genevieve Devine. Perhaps the only hint that she is in fact tied to the modern world is her work ethic and do-it-all nature. Whilst this show was cast and produced with the help of Alice Riley and Caitlin Walsh, this is unusual for Genevieve who is used to taking it all on in her stride. "It's been amazing" she tells me. "This time I could focus on the clothes".

As half of the models get ready to jump in a cab and continue the night in another bar in Soho, I realise that the show hasn't ended at all. Instead, the models take the show with them, the clothes collecting memories in the way that Genevieve collects her relics along the way. If there's one thing that these clothes demand, it's to be lived in.