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PARIS—Perhaps the extreme opulence in
Paris
last week speaks to a world that now has 8.7 million
millionaires, for whom a $100,000 made-to-order couture
gown is a nice little trifle.
Whatever
the reason, the city was dripping with money and fashion
spectacle from the Palais de Tokyo to the suburb of
Versailles.
You
could see it at Dior’s blowout at the Orangerie, where
1,000 guests, carbon emissions be damned, had traveled
in chauffeured cars to the festivities at Versailles.
Jean Paul Gaultier did an about-face from his monastic
vision for spring to a full-out princes’ and maharajahs’
fantasy, with one model as a czar prince with two foxes
dangling from her jet-beaded shoulder straps.
Even
Giorgio Armani, typically the master of tasteful greige,
went on a garish tear, showing the kind of clothes that
recall the last era of conspicuous consumption, the
1980s, or perhaps signal the beginning of a new one—in
India, Russia and China. That fuchsia crocodile jacket
fastened with a jeweled corset belt over a flared skirt?
Totally Alexis Carrington.
At Dior,
no expense was spared. Forty-five of the world’s top
models were flown in: Naomi, Shalom, Gisele, the whole
zero-percent body-fat club. The after-party, held in the
gardens, where Bedouin tents were hung with crystal
chandeliers, featured roving musicians, chefs serving
paella out of Jacuzzi-size skillets and a projection of
the fashion show from earlier in the evening onto the
spray of a fountain.
Marie
Antoinette would have approved.
So
often, John Galliano is influenced by sculptural origami
folding or raucous street fashion. But this season he
played the romantic, drawing on French painters and
photographers, Spanish bullfighters and Dior’s famous
nip-waisted, full-skirted 1947 New Look. The first time
around, the New Look spawned post-World War II street
protests against the designer’s conspicuous use of
fabric. Now, 25 meters of silk is a God-given right.
The show
began in black and white with a Jean Cocteau pen-and-ink
portrait on the bodice of a ball gown, and a white
bustier dress swirled into a hand-painted pink rose at
the waist. What followed was a color explosion, each
look more delightful than the last—a pink trompe l’oeil
column dress outlined in brushstrokes, Picasso’s
harlequin suit done in soft pastels, a fiery crimson
dress embroidered in gold like matador’s costume.
It was
over the top, certainly, but not too much so, a true
marriage of Galliano’s sense of theater and the house’s
ladylike elegance.
Not to
be outdone, Karl Lagerfeld took over the nearby Parc de
Saint-Cloud, where not even the driving rain could keep
away the private cars full of Chanel-clad lovelies. They
were greeted by handsome attendants brandishing black
Chanel logo umbrellas and escorted down the soggy garden
path.
On the
runway, there was a renewed focus on embellishment, a
departure for Lagerfeld from the monastic, unadorned
jackets and distressed denim leggings of last fall’s
couture.
He
returned to the classic Chanel suit, which looked very
1980s covered in silver sparkles, with squared-off
shoulders and a slim skirt. The “Thriller” decade was
brought to mind again when a chemise dress appeared with
overgrown gold studs running down the sides.
But
there was lightness, too—a short-sleeve, pastel blue
ball gown with a white underskirt and a bodice traced in
crystals was the kind of demure thing you could imagine
a girl wearing to her coming-out ball, wherever in the
world they still have coming-out balls; while the
pleated cream chiffon sleeves on a silver cocktail shift
looked like angel’s wings.
Feathers
appear to be the new fur. Everywhere, there was plumage
on cuffs and collars, headpieces, even the sides of
sunglasses.
At
Christian Lacroix, feathers wove themselves into a
sumptuous Orientalist theme with loose manteaus, kimono
jackets and watteau-back coats in flocked velvets and
birds of paradise brocades. The bolero was here, too, in
studded satin with ostrich feather balloon sleeves, or
simple black crepe topping a cream chiffon skirt with
rows of silver embroidery tracing the pleats.
Kohl-rimmed eyes, court shoes dangling jewels and
toppling wigs completed the decadent picture.
Jean-Paul Gaultier’s collection was also steeped in
exoticism, stirring up romantic notions of empire with
embroidered officer’s jackets and riding pants, colorful
brocade coats and jeweled turbans. (That’s right,
they’re not going anywhere.)
His
princely story of privilege might be a well-worn theme,
but not done like this. He traveled to
India,
Russia, Bavaria and the fairy-tale land of Prince
Charming. Even the models’ hair was teased into regal
crowns atop their heads. A black Lurex lace dress
laser-cut to look like the wrought iron work of a palace
gate, an emerald green velvet gown with looped fringe
sleeves dissolving into bracelets and jeweled velvet
leggings were just a few of Gaultier’s inspired ideas.
In a
season of so much froth, the Givenchy collection was a
turnabout, inspired by woodland half-deities, daughters
of ancient sea gods, medusas, sphinxes and other fierce
creatures. Designer Riccardo Tisci roped in some pretty
fierce creatures of his own for the front row, including
Liz Goldwyn, Rachel Zoe and Courtney Love.
This man
can tailor a jacket fitted perfectly around the waist
with curved shoulders like ski slopes, worn here with
downy white, Björk-style feather skirts. But it was the
white draped jersey finale gown sliced with sequins that
stole Love’s attention (she wore it to perform at the
after-party).
In
between, the collection was raw and primitive—a jacket
with a molded “spine,” an all-over leopard-spotted cat
suit with matching helmet and shoes, and a crocodile
skin tailcoat.
Not
exactly clothes fit for a queen, but maybe for a queen
of the jungle. |
