PARIS — Is challenging, conceptual fashion still a valid proposition these days? The issue of what is wearable and what isn’t was top of mind on the sixth day of the Paris shows.
Rei Kawakubo has long stopped presenting fashion on the Comme des Garçons runway, opting instead for something that is intensely sculptural, lyrical and touching, if completely unwearable. Her concoctions trap the body, moulding it into otherworldly shapes, while conveying thoughtful ruminations on the world around us. “Smaller is stronger” was the mantra that accompanied Kawakubo’s latest outing, a marvellous display that collided shades of pink and red with masculine fabrics like banker’s stripes, soundtracked by Bulgarian women chanting on the farm. “I am tired of this urge to be global, to conquer the world,” Kawakubo said via her partner Adrian Joffe. “I think that the small things that often go unnoticed are the best.” This was quite a timely statement, as anti-corporate as it gets, in a fashion industry now dominated by large conglomerates. Seeing Kawakubo’s radical thoughts translated into clothes that a larger slice of women can wear in the real world would be a dream.
Elsewhere in the Comme des Garçons family, Junya Watanabe fell for cubism: think Picasso and Braque, and their way of looking at objects through multiple perspectives offering simultaneous points of view — a geometric ancestor to deconstruction, if you will. “I am fascinated by the idea of something that is unrealistic,” the designer said cryptically backstage. Forever enamored with the classics — the perfecto, the trenchcoat, the bomber, the velvet baby dress with a white collar — Watanabe offered them through this extreme filter, triggering a feat of technical prowess, from intricate diamond constructions to humongous protruding spikes. Toning the concept down slightly, this was worked into a rock look with flares and cowboy boots, and served up to a Jimi Hendrix soundtrack. As admirable as the construction was, the outing felt a little obtuse, as if adhering to one concept too blindly.
At stablemate Noir, the mood was jolly and fluorescent, and quite uplifting as a result. “I worked a special coating into all the items in order to create some kind of magic,” said designer Kei Ninomiya. The show, with its glowing colours and spongy-spiky textures reminiscent of deep sea creatures, was a joy for the eye, with a kindergarten-esque tonality to the silhouette, with full skirts and stompy metallic trainers, not to mention the sculptural bows and the wavy, styrofoam headpieces.
Noir is an interesting project that seems trapped in an odd spot in the Comme universe, starting with the name itself. Ninomiya is a tireless experimenter, with a unique ability to pick up the loudest of colours and make them work, as well as a keen sensibility for incongruous materials. But his feats of fantasy appear constricted between the trademark Comme silhouette and the need to weave in black.
The Hermès show opened with a black leather miniskirt that echoed the contours of a saddle and was worn with pointy riding boots, and closed with a slinky velvet dress that revealed generous amounts of skin through strategically placed zippers. It was quite a departure from the bourgeois territory the brand typically occupies, but replete with nods to the riding world, which is integral to the aesthetic of the venerable French mega-house. “Sculptural, resilient, seductive,” is how designer Nadège Vanhee described it. She has been toughening up Hermès’ act for a few seasons now, with today’s collection being probably the strongest in this sense, at once graphic and tactile, with a stimulating mix of leather and felt. “I was thinking of an Amazon, a warrior woman,” she added. It’s a captivating proposal, not last because it came with a sexual tingle. After all, horse riding has always come with hints of high class and high kink in equal measure. “You know, it all depends on how you look at things,” said Vanhee with a knowing smile, suggesting that truth, in the end, is in the eye of the beholder.
London by night and dandyism as an act of adornment were on the mind of designer Seán McGirr, whose third effort at the house of McQueen came in the form of a tall and lead silhouette and a juxtaposition of sharp tailoring and fluttering flou, animal knitwear and precious embellishment. A long, scholastic look at Lee McQueen’s archive ran through the outing. The Victorian take on the dandy, with mourning black, ruffles at the neck, and cutaway jackets was, on the other hand, quite frankly first degree, but this was a minor problem. The pieces were impeccably executed — showing progress from previous seasons — but the rumination on the McQueen code felt shallow, and the collection came out as a bit generic, which is exactly what McQueen was never. All in all, McGirr’s McQueen feels back to where Sarah Burton was, contrary to the raw energy he channeled in his first show: his worst in terms of execution, his best in terms of vision. McQueen needs a wild renegade. Lukewarm doesn’t work.
The mood over at Ann Demeulemeester was barbarian, scorched, intensely layered: a dusty road to atonement, part rocker, part Georgia O’Keeffe. So much so that the house’ infamous dangling straps turned into cascades of frayed ribbons. Stefano Gallici’s Demeulemeester is drenched in his love for indie music and clothes with intensely lived lives. By focusing on the wilder side of Ann, he has perfected an image that Demeulemeester devotees may despise but could appeal to a younger audience.
Ludovic de Saint-Sernin’s latest outing read like a comic strip fantasy of what a seductress looks like. It was a story of bras and pencil skirts, thigh-high stockings, latex and greatcoats. His trademark metal eyelets were generously featured, but the outing felt flat.
