KidSuper moved its show from Paris to Miami. That is the first thing to know, and the hits keep coming.

Colm Dillane gave up the closing slot of Paris Fashion Week to stage Resenha in Beckham and Jorge Mas's Nu Stadium, timed to the World Cup, doors open to a ticket-buying public. Inter Miami plays in pink, so the seating bowl was washed in pastel rose. A perfect backdrop. A designer walking out of the most coveted position on the menswear calendar to fill a football stadium in Florida. When I first heard, I was nervous for him. Then I was in awe. Against the grain is easy to say. He did it.

Resenha is a Brazilian word for the talk around the game. Not the match. The jokes, the rituals, the chance encounters, the local pitch, the friendships that turn a sport into a culture. Football has always been the constant in Colm's life, before the films, the galleries, the collaborations. He played a year of it professionally. He built a pitch on the roof of his Brooklyn studio. So the premise is not a stretch. It is a homecoming. He worked with more than fifty artists across the globe to build the collection, less a map of nations than a conversation between them. This is the talk after the whistle, stitched.
 

The genius of Colm and his team is coherence. They work with everyone, and the whole thing holds. Luxury watches, German cars, fast food, sparkling water. There is no badge he will not touch and none that swallows him. He runs all of it through the same playful grammar. Font, colour, texture. The brands come to him, and here they were, worn instead of declared. McDonald's with a limited drop of its World Cup cups. Mercedes-Benz pairing cars and clothes to the seven nations whose jerseys carry a championship star. Hublot timepieces in the looks. BÉIS, Shay Mitchell's travel label, on luggage duty, Mitchell walking for her Canadian roots. Bose headphones worn like jewellery. KidSuper is no longer a label. It is becoming a brand the industry measures itself against, and it should. We have not seen one hand make this many partners cohere since Virgil. I said it. Haters come forth.

I have met Colm twice. He is the rare founder who is exactly what he sells. Effervescent. A childlike wonder still intact in how he looks at the world. It is disarming. For the pessimist in me it stings, because the smile fills a room and never switches off. It lights a space like a 7-Eleven. Always on. You want to resent it. You cannot. The kid is a bundle of fucking joy.

Backstage there was no ego. It was the calmest I have stood in. Models loose, hair and makeup laughing, the room hot and cramped and chaotic, which is the joke, given we had a whole stadium to ourselves. In the middle of it Colm was steady. Upbeat. Moving. Making sure every person there was having as much fun as the figures he paints on his clothes.

The collection stayed in the KidSuper lane. The show did not. A look for every nation at the tournament, pinned backstage on a run-of-show wall, country by country like a bracket. Panama, Morocco, Curaçao, Uzbekistan, Haiti. The casting did the representing, no box ticking, each model cast from the country they walked for. When Brazil walked, a Brazilian walked it. When New Zealand came up, a New Zealander came with it, model Noah Tumataroa, Māori representation slaying the industry right now. It was serious work. When I asked Colm if representation made him nervous, he did not hedge. "I hope I don't offend anyone. I'm showcasing the world's regions and how I see them. My interpretation." Interpret he did.

"I HOPE I DON'T OFFEND ANYONE. I'M SHOWCASING THE WORLD'S REGIONS HOW I SEE THEM. MY INTERPRETATION."

FOR ONE NIGHT IN MIAMI, KIDSUPER GAVE THE WORLD BACK TO ITSELF, 
AND SENT EVERYONE HOME WITH A PIECE OF IT.