Susannah Frankel in Paris
CALL it fin de sicle confusion if you will, but something, in fashion at least, is rotten. There was a cynicism underlying many of the so-called high points of the Paris autumn/winter ready-to-wear collections that made for uncomfortable viewing. Increased media attendance meant even fewer real clothes and more bare-faced sensationalism than usual. Fashion editors are supposed to come up with excuses for such things. This one can’t, particularly when the nudity was at times so explicit as to be positively gynaecological.
At John Galliano’s eponymous collection, there were TV cameras tracking up and down the runway in front of the models, so buyers and press could barely see the clothes. At Vivienne Westwood, lights were dimmed to the point where photographers raged they couldn’t do their jobs. Here again, mass TV coverage was clearly what the designer was after. Leather balaclavas, jeans zipped up through the crotch and more bare breasts, stockings and suspenders than your average strip show should ensure Westwood gets it, at the expense, once again, of the clothes.
The backlash to such extreme pandering to the media, though understandable, is equally problematic. Designer fashion has always been elitist and it is in danger of becoming more so. Some of the world’s greatest designers, including Helmut Lang, Yohji Yamamoto and Comme des Garons, showed to a select audience of no more than 150 people, people who understand their clothes, the logic goes.
Only the mighty Yves Saint Laurent, who was the first to speak out against the headline-hungry circus the collections have become, got it right. At quiet presentations at his Paris showroom, press or buyers were welcome to view his, as always lovely, collection at close proximity, with no fuss.
Of course it was Galliano’s appointment to Dior and Alexander McQueen’s to Givenchy that started the publicity ball rolling in the first place. Significantly, though the column inches generated by both designers will no doubt prove worth their weight in gold, both their ready-to-wear debuts reeked of damage limitation, if in different ways. With both designers turning out collections at the rate of one every two months, this is hardly surprising. Something has to give.
Finally, to Jean Paul Gaultier, one of the few French-born designers who is both looking to the future of fashion and taking into account the very real needs of women. If micro-mini-kilts have been seen here, there and everywhere on the international catwalks, Gaultier had the good sense to layer his over trousers. Also brilliant were oversized trouser suits and an all-in- one tailored catsuit, the most enviably chic and minimal alternative to eveningwear imaginable.
Gaultier’s models were, almost unanimously, black and very sassy. And as for their shoes, thankfully there wasn’t a sky-high pair of stilettos in sight. Clumpy, flat or slightly platformed footwear made legs look sweet and bandy and, hey, you can run in it. Thank you, Monsieur Gaultier, for that.
Japanese designers Comme des Garons, Yohji Yamamoto and Issey Miyake came up with three of the week’s strongest showings. Rei Kawakubo, having put deconstruction on the map, this time went for reconstruction, so wool tailored dresses and coats were designed, cut up and sewn or bonded together again, very beautifully askew. While other designers played on the contrast between masculine and feminine, that between casual and formalwear was Kawakubo’s concern.