One can always rely on Ann Demeulemeester to bring the most beautiful version of broken romanticism to the Paris catwalks. Her latest menswear show, the collection of deconstructed jackets, vests and knee-long coats was no exception. Belgian designer who is a master of dark romance and decadent yet pure version of humble male beauty presented an updated version of 18th century poet, an enigmatic and ethereal hero who doesn’t feel quite in place in the modern world. Yet, reality of Web 2.0 mentality seems to crash against the tenderness and nobility of Demeulemeester’s protagonist. Is it designer’s verion of resistance to the pragmatism and cynicism of today? Is it an escapist dream of a man who’s up there to stand against the corrupt world of establishment? Or is it just a poetical version of, well, a modern poet? Either way, the sight of boys walking down the catwalk at Ann Demeulemeester made me think of Paris la boheme of the late 19th century and, surprisingly, of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s La Petit Prince.
The show had everything avid Demeulemeester’s fans can hope to find. There was a great sense of tailoring in multi-layering of dress shirts, vests and deconstructed jackets that drew inspiration from Edwardian dressing, yet didn’t feel like a dull replica. Instead they created a beautiful effect of chaotic embellishment, spontaneous and even messy. But mixed with leather pants, knee-high boots, wide gloves and accessorized with goat hair (another stample chez Demeulemeester) the clothes didn’t fall into a notorious category of ‘yet another take on formal dressing’. Instead they brought to mind British sartorial tradition with its pedantic search for perfection and attention to details. In a way, they looked flamboyant, even dandy-ish.
The color palette, again, was traditionally Demeulemeester — the monochromatic versions of black (seems like you can never have one black at Paris shows), dove gray and quite a logical intrusion of blood red that created a pace for the show and brought some drama to the clothes. Continuing her development of prints, this time the designer offered faded versions of what looked like chalk stripes and raindrops covering the guys’ pantsuits. I thought they looked like a scheme for a suit, something more of a reminder what the clothes used to look back at that era that Ann Demeulemeester referenced in this collection, rather than a way to ‘upgrade’ them. They were traces of these garments’ lives. It was an allusive collection that spoke of the fragile world that has faded and the heroes that used to inhabit it. But missing the later, can we hope to keep a tiny bit of the former at least?
There is a big issue about writing about the show you didn’t attend and the collection you didn’t experience in person. Musing on something you haven’t been a part of is a travesty. There is little substance behind an opinion that comes only from looking through a bunch of pictures. With runway shows you have to be there, to live that moment, to experience the whole vision that a designer or a label offers to you. No set of pictures can live up to that — to the sincerity and the depth of a show, no matter what scale it is. From monstrous productions at Grand Palais to amateur presentations in a dirty basement in the middle of nowhere — you have to be there to make a judgement that is not only smoke and mirrors. Attending a show is a must to form an opinion, a key to relate to the collection.
That said, I couldn’t hold back and not write down few thoughts I had on the menswear shows. I’m very sad I couldn’t make it to Paris last month. I had a lot of interest in there and from what I’ve seen from the pictures the season was quite successful. It was sober in a way of turning back to basics and working out the best of what was signature for the labels. Stripped down, it felt refreshing.
Refreshing seems to be the right word for Maison Martin Margiela latest menswear collection. Contrary to the womenswear offerings men at MMM are realistic and fun to watch. There is less coneptualizing in the mens division, thus, there is a stronger sense of wearability and practicality in mens collections at MMM. This season was no exception — the clothes felt comfortable, ironic and… domestic. The pantsuits, the oversized parkas and tailored coats drew inspiration from the enigma of a real man’s wardrobe. Yet in a traditional MMM way, the shapes and sillhouettes were approached with a healthy dose of irony and self-questioning that seemed to ask what the real man stands for in a modern world and how can fashion access his universe.
The clothes didn’t fall into playing with cliches of mens’ wardrobes, exaggerating or mocking them. But there was a twist in highlighting some codes of it and playing them in a strange, yet good manner. I loved how MMM team managed to keep the narrative in the collection — the label’s menswear shows usually are more about characters than style. To put it simple, it’s never trendy. Yet the team manages to deliberately mix references and influences without creating cacophony of too much effect with little to no substance. This season, the key notes were a mens’ suit, a coat, a jacket — those very plain basics that every man seems to take for granted and that are part of mundane rather than a bold fashion statement. But this statement-lessness is something one always expects to find at MMM – liberating and ironic clothes that push the envelope.I loved the cut of pantsuits and trousers that were wide and cropped. But the most interesting effect was the double-layering in jackets and puffa. The latest made me think of homeless people and how they organize their wardrobe in order to survive physically. But that’s quite a Margiela question — can clothes be considered a gear? Is it an armor? Is it a peacock tail? Or is it simply a key to access the better world? All in all, I enjoyed the unpretentious atmosphere of the show and how cozy most of the pieces looked. Maybe this was not a breakthrough collection for hardcore Margiela fans, but it was definitely interesting to watch.
Given endless speculations and self-gravitating meditations on whether fashion can be considered art, it’s curious to think of two and how thin the line between them can be. No doubt, there is one, meaning art and fashion gravitate toward one another, yet never collide. Whether art is fashionable or, as some art critics like to address the issue, is it sexy I don’t know. But the other way around, the question if fashion is an art form, is something everyone in the industry seem to be preoccupied with. Some think fashion, like art, reflects on the world we’re living in and aspires to change it. That deliberately makes it art. Others say that fashion is all about artistry and creative force that makes it equal to artisanal art forms that pretty much rely on material side of the process and beauty of execution (Haute Couture may be the best example). Someone dismisses fashion for its practical merit of creating a product meant to be consumed, thus, making it impossible to valuate it as something ‘artful’. Yet, as one may guess, the pluralism of opinions doesn’t make the topic easier.
But what’s intriguing here is how certain creatives, whether from the field of art or fashion, flaw from one side to another making it even more difficult to nail the borderline between the two. This is quite a casual thing for fashion photographers who take a step or two into an abyss of art photography and vice versa. From Richard Avedon, Annie Leibowitz to Corinne Day, Juergen Teller and Sarah Moon, the history of fashion photography knows numerous examples of people who turned their camera lens to both accelerated beauty and unavoidable ugliness of the world and whose pictures challenged our perception of what can be considered a fashion picture (the same way it doubted the norms of art photography). Wolfgang Tillmans is no exception — the photographer’s body of work may be a great study on how emerging talent can take off from the glossy and sky-rocket into the heights of contemporary art. It is now that award-winning Mr Tillmans is a rare contributor to anything fashion-related. But ten years ago his reality-harsh pictures made all the way down Conde Nast presses, being a casual thing for Vogues of the world. Was it pure fashion? Was it art? I kept these questions in mind while looking at the series of photographs of Naomi Campbell, shot by Tillmans and styled by no-one but high priestess of the 90s minimalism, Camilla Nickerson for one of the issues of US Vogue back in the 1997. And how do I tell what it actually was?
The photographs projected cold-blooded clinical feel that is a signature for Mr Tillmans. It looks unembellished, right-in-your face and real. But there is more to these pictures than poetry and drama of the mundane. I felt a strong sense of irony in the spread portraying Naomi as some luxurious version of over-performing corporate executive. This was an archetype of the time — a strong woman who was totally in charge over her life, who was put together, focused and ambitious. It was about corporate mentality — make it to the top or die trying. For fashion magazines, this sounded like a motto for women’s empowerment and emancipation. But unlike the rebellious times of the late 60s – 70s the look of the decade was less about pushing the boundaries and more about enjoying the luxury of being independent and ‘on top’. Thus, the furs and cashmeres that addressed woman nature. Naomi’s heroine wasn’t trying to be a man — she was too sophisticated to bother (it’s Vogue, after all). Instead you got a woman who knows her business, who is strong without being trapped in denial of her nature. Celebrate who you are and embrace your ambitions — I thought this was a strong sentiment at Vogue back in the 90s. And the beauty of Wolfgang Tillmans’ pictures managed to translate it so well. In a way this was a fantastic commentary on that time — aspiring, yet truthful. I wondered, could a real portrait tell more. Wasn’t this series worth of thousands of pictures accompanying Forbes stories? Art imitates life. So does great fashion photography.
To be honest I’ve never been a big fan of Valentino. Complete truth is I’ve never been a fan at all. There has always been something too obvious, too narrow-minded about Valentino woman and the way she seemed to celebrate her beauty – whether natural one or pretty much artificial — and to enjoy, to exploit it to the max. The glossy allure, that is sexual and hedonistic as much as it pretends to be elegant and chic, has never been cup of tea. But looking through the images of recent Haute Couture collections I felt Valentino show offered something other Houses failed to deliver — a sense of life.
There is something utterly intriguing about Pier Paolo Piccioli and Maria Grazia Chiuri’s job at Valentino. The couple seems to perform some serious blade-running over Valentino archives with the need to clean the label from all the dust and unnecessary sparkles — and honestly there is some need for it — to take it to the reality of the 21st century. Celebrating the legacy, but making it in tune with the world that’s changing drastically — that’s a whole lot of a mission. Yet, I thought, they managed to do it in a very beautiful way with the show — keeping it Valentino, but making it relevant again. The collection of delicate, yet wearable dresses and skirt suits in the most subtle shades of nude, pale brown, pink, blush and white seemed to have something the other shows did not have. Drawing inspiration from the signature Valentino styles (yes, ribbons and bows of sorts made more than one cameo, but there were less of them than before) they produced an elegant collection that felt… modern.
From the severity of the opening dress on Freja to the restricted sensuality of a floor-length number on Sigrid (above, left), I thought, the duo managed to balance between decorativeness (which is always a must at Valentino) and purity of forms and design. The ruffles and pleating on sheer skirts were there, but it still felt easy and unpretentious. The fabric treatment added to the effect of contemporary dressing — what looked like delicate lace was actually metallics applied on sheer fabrics. There were also laser-cut leather pieces arranged in a way that recalled intricate lace.
All in all, the clothes felt nostalgic, but they were essentially real. Playing with daywear (something lavish Haute Couture collections usually seem to abandon) Piccioli and Mauri delivered a collection that was clean, sober and rational. I loved the notion of decay and corruption it had. From pale skin on models’ faces enlightened with red eye-shadows that suggested insomnia or tears one could tell there was a sense of restlessness and unresovleness about Valentino heroine. It was very romantic — the sight of girls who want to become grown-ups only to mourn over their lost youth. And it was believable.
There is a great complexity about the phenomenon of modernity. What is modern and how can one define whether something is modern or not? I’ve always felt uncomfortable about the very notion of modernity applied to someone’s work. Trying to be modern is a great illusion that is always dismissed for being cool, upbeat and cutting-edge. But is it reachable? Is it even possible to be modern? As French sociologist Bruno Latour said, we have never been modern.
Raf Simons may be one of the very few fashion designers whose work reflects on the world we inhabit without being derivative or referential to the past. His sharp sense of time and extensive vocabulary of symbols and signs speak through the cut and fit of the clothes, technical experimentation with fabrics and silhouette. In a homogenized world of mens fashion Raf Simons’ collections offer a point of view, an aesthetic. Every season it is a proposal that articulates the modern, doing so in a very intelligent and sublime way.
In his Fall/Winter 11.12 collection the designer showed an impressive study of formal dressing. It is brilliant how Simons takes the core pieces of mens’ wardrobe — a coat, a jacket, a pants — and reworks them in a way that sweeps away the mundane feel of the sartorial tradition. It is a tale about suits, but it is not pro-establishment. On the contrary, approaching the holy grail of mens fashion, a suit, Simons questions the authority, the nobility of it. As if he asks, is it a suit that makes a man? One can sense the designer addresses the whole agenda of young people trying to make it into the establishment. Сoats accessorised with slim tie and stripped scarf, fitted sweaters worn over loose trousers and lacquered shoes create a law school student look that speaks of ambitions and expectations, attempts to succeed and live up to one’s dream and of fear of failure.
There is a notion of luxury that is not about excessive embellishment or exotic skins — no retrograde approach here. It is about precise cut of a jacket, sensational folding of fabrics and, naturally, extensive work on the silhouette. And one can sense big evolution here — Raf Simons man is a man, more mature than who the designer portrayed in his earlier collections. Developing codes of formal dressing Simons tries to upgrade mens suit, making it look contemporary and cool. But it still bears a certain street sensibility that reflects on the youth and challenges it has to face in order to survive in this world — the main theme of Simons’ work. One of his signatures, the play with Ivy League prints is a great way to address and reference artists Simons relates to in his work. But it looks smart without being pretentious. There is no evident referential point in his design, sleek, precise yet very believable. I think it is designer’s great strength — making clothes that are authentic and aesthetically-driven but that are also real and wearable. They make sense.
The other day I was looking through Tomy Ton’s pictures during both Milan and Paris Menswear fashion weeks (guilty pleasure, I know). Somehow the sight of fashionable men, uber-styled and groomed to look both flawless and careless, made me think about the whole notion of masculine beauty and what it stands for in the modern world. I remembered one of Rick Owens’ interviews where designer stated that men had less possibilities to look coquettish. I thought it made perfect sense — unlike women who have a gut instinct for looking beautiful (or trying to, anyway), men aren’t supposed to fancy their physical presence. Dress to impress is a doubtful motto for guys. Or so it’s supposed to be. As sexist as it may sound, even today the idea of celebrating mens beauty sounds corrupt. But this way, it makes it even more seductive.
Then I discovered this series of images published in Spring/Summer 2010 issue of Man About Town magazine. The photographs of groomed guys with Rockabilly-inspired do’s and pompadours worth of Suzy Menkes’ approval put the problem in a whole different perspective for me. To begin with, the very idea of mens beauty editorial is paradoxical. And grooming is quite a tough word for something that involves human body. But, drawing inspiration from the big guys of pop culture (I sensed Bob Dylan could be a reference), the black and white portraits of these young folks celebrated their beauty in a good way — sober, natural, relaxed.
Shot by Terry Tsiolis, the spread features beautiful guys groomed by Didier Malige. Malige, celebrated hair stylist and partner of Grace Coddington of Vogue, did an amazing job with their locks. The pictures felt narcissistic in a way but they were also about youth, teen spirit and playing mens fashion codes without falling into cliches of good old mens glamour (think American Gigolo) and spiced-up erotic. The stroke of flamboyance and teen rebellion (could a cigarette be taken for a revolutionary torch?) made the pictures feel unpretentious and fun. It wasn’t about sexualizing or objectifying men, rather than about freedom of self-expression and confidence. In a world of modern men, as seen in Mr Ton’s street candids, there is a place for that.
The new TV commercial for Calvin Klein Collection celebrates label’s most poignant signatures — modern sense of luxury, streamlined minimalism and intense sexuality.
Watching the new piece directed by Fabien Baron and featuring impossibly beautiful Lara Stone and Tyson Ballou I literally held my breath. It was a grandiose experience — I can hardly think of any video (and there has been plenty of them in the last couple of years) that played with codes of luxury, sensuality and sexuality — pretty basic fashion constants — in such a gentle and impressive manner. I thought the piece was stunning — beautiful, inviting and aspirational. It spoke of the clothes, accessories and the whole universe of Calvin Klein, but did it in a way that evoked certain feelings and brought to mind what made the label so special. I loved the sober color palette of the visual that stood for precious attention to details and never-ending love for minimalism at Calvin Klein. But even with the clinical sense of luxe the video provided intense emotional experience, something a viewer can relate to. In a set of glass&steel interiors, crystal swimming pools and glowing white backgrounds, it was a story of love and lust, a relationship between a man and a woman. It was sexual, not sexy. In a casual Calvin Klein manner, it addressed the notion of sexuality without making it seemingly forced or over the top. But one could still feel the tension and Lara Stone’s natural oeuvre took it even further.
The whole idea of TV commercials for high-end fashion labels seems a bit odd, even in an era of expanding moving imagery on the Web and all the technologies provided to reach the customer via Internet. But good old TV doesn’t seem to be the best place for couture. Or it didn’t seem so. The same way Helmut Lang revolutionized fashion with videos of his shows being sent to editors on CD’s back in the 90s, airing CK TV commercial in New York city taxi may be a new way to communicate brand’s image and its core values to people. Challenge yes, but it may also be a great tool to reach out for a potential customer in the time when pretty much any kind of advertising — print or digital — feels inefficient and… relic. I would love to sit in a yellow cab rolling down Manhattan while watching sultry Lara lying on a concrete floor near the swimming pool. That would be a beautiful moment to have (and to remember). Or maybe I’m just too fond of what they’ve been doing at Calvin Klein. Anyway, the video seems to be just too perfect to not take notice of.
Carine Roitfeld’s departure from Vogue Paris offices was something the industry knew would happen someday, but nobody dared to predict how it would feel like. Announcing her decision to leave Vogue (was it really her decision, the crowd still keeps speculating) Ms Roitfeld sent the whole industry into guessing what was next, who was next. At some point it felt like tomorrow would never come. Over the last decade what Carine and her high-heeled dream team managed to accomplish was building up an image of the magazine as something trully special and intimate. Vogue Paris has been about a point of view — very elegant, chic and exclusive to the point of bourgeois kind of snobbery. It was a very smart and well-done proposal, besides being very personal — true to Carine’s vision of beauty, luxury and taste for controversy. As a matter of fact, Carine was Vogue. She embodied the ideal of this woman, a Vogue woman. Carine’s tenure at Vogue generated a great publicity for the brand, it was a fantastic tool to deliver the image across the public and loyal readership. People praised the woman and took her for Vogue — a totem that belonged to a better world, a high-octane glamorous universe, hostile and welcoming for very few.
Now that Carine’s era is seemingly over, the natural question is where Vogue Paris will come? Will it reinvent itself and if so, where will it take itself? Now that Emmanuelle Alt has been named as Carine’s successor the money is pretty much on the same delicate mix of fantastic sense of luxe and flamboyant rebellion — wicked, risky, titillating. Alt, a key player in Vogue Paris team over the years, has performed a lot of Vogue magic on her own right. Still, being an avid fan of androgynous glamour, that of ripped jeans, fitted jackets and boyfriend’s knitwear, she seems to be in the other camp than that of Helmut Newton and Guy Bourdin-inspired sexed-up imagery favored by Carine. It means we’re in a wake of dramatic transition for Vogue to go through. Will it get more commercial, as Fabien Baron suggested, or will it take the underground route of raw imagery and celebrating unconventional beauty? Is it going to please or shock or both? The reason there is so much questions is not only about speculation and fashion crowd’s tendency to over-dramatize things. There is a lot at the stake now — the brand, the legacy, the marketing tool, the whole machine of producing and supporting people’s desire to consume fashion products. Also, as pragmatic and mundane as it may sound, it is about big money. So far, the whole shift is unavoidable and everyone wonders what it is going to be. Where will Ms Alt lead the vehicle? Time will show.
Emmanuelle Alt’s portrait was originally published in Spring/Summer 2008 issue of Self Service.
As Christmas fever swept everything away I didn’t have much time to actually stop for a moment and have a proper look at what’s going on in the world around me, a boutique world that is. But thankfully the parties are over and we’re ready to get back to business and all the joy it brings. Yesterday I browsed through the Fall/Winter deliveries of New York-based label 3.1 Phillip Lim. Once again the clothes made me think of Christmas, hardcore night outings and all the pleasure it can bring.
The thing about Lim’s collections is how balanced and well-thought they appear to be. They have a real New York spirit to them, unpretentious, easy, flirty and fun. His designs are rather simple and joyful — they are realistic and not over-conceptualized. That’s the type of clothes girls love to wear. They make justice to the world we’re living in on a daily basis — whether it’s for an office routine or for late night drinking sessions. As much as I’m a fan of sober intellectual design sometimes it’s a good idea to loosen up and let it go. Here a floor-length jersey dress or an asymmetrical cocktail dress in bi-colored sequins will do.
There is something inescapably comfortable about Lim’s fitted dresses done in plain jersey or in animalistic prints. Paired with thigh-high boots and oversized jewelry they radiate a certain dose of careless glamor that feels right for a festive period of New Year parties. I actually loved the color palette of bronze, jewel tones of biege and deep blue — it didn’t look vulgar but had a certain touch of old-fashioned Studio 54 quirkiness that I found ironic. The designer knows that girls want to have fun. And there’s plenty of it captured in these clothes.
PS I have to confess, I cheated on the first look. The tube pants, as one may easily guess, are by Maison Martin Margiela. But what can I do?
It’s a very rare moment when a girl walking down the catwalk totally grabs one’s attention. Usually the shows are about experiencing the vibe of the collection and its allure. The show is a medium, a proposal, a tool that presents clothes. And very little it is about seeing the girls and actually recognizing them. As cynical as it may sound we are here to not look at them (as beautiful as they are), but to look at the clothes. That’s why actually noticing some girl and remembering her and — to some extent — feeling for her is a very intimate and beautiful moment. Some girls (all the Darias, Giseles and Naomis of the world) command absolute attention, but usually the runway reality is much less glamorous. The horde of beautiful girls gets pass the audience pretty much unnoticed. They can be the best performers in print and score the most covetable advertising contracts, but when it comes to the magic of runway show, it gets very anonymous.
Some time ago re-watching Celine Spring/Summer 2011 runway video I noticed a girl in a black dress with impressively deep cleavage that caught my attention. What was it — her piercing stare or beautifully awkward walk — that made me stop and rewind the piece I don’t know. But this video made me remember the girl. Arizona Muse was her name. Today Canadian-born Ms Muse is a new face of both Prada and Yves Saint Laurent Spring/Summer campaigns and a cover girl of the latest issue of Vogue Italia. As cliche as it may sound, Ms Muse seems to be the next big thing in modeling. Cliches are pretty inevitable when it comes to all the models talk — we usually avoid this type of speculations here. But when it’s not about Gisele, Daria or other multi-million dollars babies, the talk is even more intriguing.
Seeing the latest print work of Ms Muse I thought the girl was very special. And it’s not about the hype that shakes the Web now (I googled, as a matter of fact). Arizona has a certain vibe of old couture, very noble and chic. Her beauty is that of decadence and lust, enigmatic and sinister in a way. It reminds me of old salon girls, fitting models chez Balmain or Givenchy, graceful and unbelievable in their perfection. She has the look that is luxe and kittenish but is also transgressive. It’s about the right balance of right and wrong to make it interesting and fresh.
...is a brainchild of a fashion retailer with great passion for Maison Martin Margiela, Raf Simons, Ann Demeulemeester, Haider Ackermann and those beautiful minds that push fashion envelope to its extreme with their thoughtful innovative designs.
