John Galliano
On the way into this show, in one of Paris's roughest arrondissements, I
stepped into what may or may not have been a puddle of sewage. There's
nothing quite like seeing a crocodile of limos and several hundred pairs of
Louboutins rub against the scenic poor to make you question the meaning of
your life. Is John Galliano being subversive by showing jolly expensive
frocks in an armpit? Or is it a joyous message about beauty in the face of
deprivation?
Whatever, as we like to say in this world. The clothes were a riot. Literally.
Impressionist floral prints skirmished with Grecian draping. Hot pink and
burning orange did battle with frills and ruffles. Transparency slugged it
out with horizontal pleats and more flounces than a Graham Norton sketch.
Katie Price and husband Peter Andre looked on in wonder. Or perhaps that was
just her make-up. Still, it's not often they're in a roomful of clothes that
makes them look like 17th-century Puritans.
Occasionally one wished that Galliano would heed Diana Vreeland's great dictum
about elegance being refusal, because it was in some of the plainer pieces -
a gorgeous, long, silk Grecian gown or a draped, printed chiffon dress -
that his refined workmanship shone through. But refusal isn't really his
thing. A luscious, pillar-box red draped shorts suit garnished with a
marabou busby is.
Louis Vuitton
If the past four weeks have come up with anything irresistible, it has to be
the jackets. At a time when fashion is trying to have it every which way
(long, short, utility, romantic, architectural, drapy), a jacket is one
piece that can unify a wardrobe into a coherent whole.
And nowhere are jackets more confident, detailed or glamorous looking than at
Louis Vuitton, where Marc Jacobs wrapped, belted, cropped, stretched, padded
but above all metallicised them. Jacobs must have faith in them, because a
few of the iridescent Vuitton jackets weren't a zillion miles from those he
designed for his own label last month. Still, they're worth seeing twice.
The whole collection was cleverly conceived, not least because it felt like a
raid on someone's decadent and very upmarket archives - Marc Bolan's,
perhaps, if he had properly been a girl. From the floppy pyjama pants to
micro minis, this was an eclectic aubergine, purple, orange and
leopard-trimmed romp through everything a woman doesn't need but may very
possibly want (an emerald marabou fronted vest?), if only momentarily. And
momentary consideration is all Vuitton requires from its catwalk shows,
which are primarily aimed at stoking the desirability of that classic
monogrammed print.
Lanvin
Alber Elbaz received one of the loudest cheers when he took his bow, and not
just because this was the penultimate show of the season. The past four
weeks have made it clear that fashion is about to become a more abstract
pursuit.
Priorities are already being realigned by economics. Women who recently prided
themselves on being at the forefront of a curve trend may find themselves
sitting the next one out. Labels offering similar versions of what's already
in our wardrobes are on a hiding to nothing. Ditto labels trying to sell us
something challenging.
Elbaz hasn't suddenly begun providing the instantly affordable. But at least
he produced something worth dreaming about. No pretence of daywear or basics
here (get those in Gap). There was one skirt suit - possibly the black suit
of the season - with its nonchalantly pushed-up sleeves, elegantly slouchy
shoulders and lovely, airy lines. The rest was unashamed party wear: tulip
skirts and voluminous blouson tops fastened into floppy bows. Everything is
loosely cut and yet, because of those defined waists, feminine. By the way,
hips are getting bigger and bigger on the catwalk. The last time this
happened, there was a French Revolution. Just thought you should know.
Hermes
In the old, old days, luxury was bound up with the heavy and the imposing. Now
it is axiomatically linked to making these same things light and as
insubstantial as air.
Nowhere is this better demonstrated than at Hermès, where Jean Paul Gaultier
took a crocodile jacket and dip-dyed it in indigo, draped sand-coloured
suede into waistcoats and jackets that had all the comfort of cardigans
(with the added appeal that they looked ultra-expensive) and shrank the
iconic Kelly into a tiny envelope with irreverent fringing. This is what
being really rich in the 21st century can bring you: the ease and spirit of
a tracksuit wrought into something eternally chic.
It helps that Gaultier has an eye for reworking classics: hence the house's
traditional horse-bit link appearing on a 2009 platform sandal.
Speaking of classics, it's nearly 20 years since Naomi Campbell and Stephanie
Seymour first took to the catwalk. But there they were, holding their own
against the 16 year olds. True, their bodies are noticeably more womanly
than they were; less likely to snap in two in a breeze. But, astonishingly,
they still looked good in the clothes. That's right. Size 10 (UK) model on
catwalk shocker. You read it here first.
Miu Miu
If it's really serious about models' welfare, Madrid Fashion Week might care
to ban BMHighs (bloody massive heels) next season. Another model tumbled
(twice) in the Miu Miu show. This kind of silly fashion does no one credit.
But enough of shoes (yes, I really wrote that). Having gone the conceptual
fashion route for Miu Miu's last show (a mystifying detour into neoprene
that bore almost no resemblance to the terrific tailoring and silk tunics
currently in Miu Miu stores), Miuccia Prada opted for what looked like a
literal presentation of the retail line.
Many of the two-part dresses (hessian tops, silk or wool pleated skirts, or
vice versa) could have walked straight off the catwalk into real life.
Sleeveless and gently shaped to the body rather than aggressively
figure-hugging, they were flattering and chic - classic, but interesting
enough to seem fresh thanks to an overlay of coloured apron-panel. If this
was about simplifying a message, it worked, almost too well. Prada doesn't
usually confine herself to a single idea. Presumably there will be more than
sleeveless dresses on the Miu Miu rails come spring.
