From the NY Times 11th of July, by Cathy Horyn:
Good article, I'll say....
Reports of Couture's Death Were Exaggerated
PARIS, July 9 — The death of haute couture makes a good news story. It has a nice sound to it, like a train whistle. The editor sitting in the bar at the Ritz Hotel, eating her $35 Salade Côte d'Azur, can bemoan the fact that Versace and Ungaro are not showing. But the truth is, she has not been interested in them in some time. She is here to watch Melania Knauss, the future Mrs. Donald Trump, change her outfit for each show. She is here to see Oprah. She is here for Valentino's party at his chateau.
What she is here for, in so many words, is the action.
Couture, like the rest of fashion, increasingly provides the noise to sell not only perfume and handbags but also things not wholly related to it, like "handcrafted" soap or "customized" vacuum cleaners. The thing is, people on the inside of fashion like to complain that couture is a dying institution and that the number of clients for $35,000 suits has dwindled to probably less than 500. All true. But they're too absorbed in the details to see the larger picture and what the language and excitement of high fashion has meant to marketers of consumer products.
And Ms. Knauss? Her presence here had a larger purpose, too. She was invited by Vogue so it could photograph her shopping for her wedding trousseau. Do young women still shop for their trousseaux? Apparently, in Vogue, they still do.
John Galliano is one designer who understands the big picture, even if, this season, his Dior show seemed particularly unrelated to contemporary life. Based on Sissie (the Empress Elizabeth of Austria), the gowns were spectacular, with panniers and spreading skirts and crystal stones the size of a human fist. Some of the dresses required more than 80 yards of fabric, enough to upholster four sofas. But while they were wonderful to look at, exquisite in the colors and workmanship, one might just as well have been looking at a museum piece.
Some of the dresses, together with the jewelry and crowns, weighed more than the models themselves, and, as it was, the girls had to be helped off the runway by a team of waiting men. A fall would have necessitated a small crane.
Certainly Dior, and Chanel and Gaultier, have kept couture alive with their imagination, showmanship and atelier traditions. And, in another sense, the complaint that couture is dying, now that a few more houses have dropped out, is unfounded. In every decade since women started coming to Paris for custom-made clothes, only a handful of couturiers have really mattered, in spite of the number of houses. In the 1950's, it was Chanel, Dior and Balenciaga. Today it's Karl Lagerfeld of Chanel, Mr. Galliano, Jean Paul Gaultier and Christian Lacroix.
"With all these memorials and funerals, people apparently like death," Mr. Lagerfeld said, referring to Helmut Newton's memorial service last week. "For me, this is not an issue. At Chanel, we have more clients than ever. We have more workers than we had a year ago. So it mustn't be that dead."
Mr. Lagerfeld went on: "And as I am not involved in other people's businesses, I have no public opinion except Chanel. And Chanel doesn't lose one cent on couture."
Of all the designers this season, Mr. Lagerfeld was the only one to marry creativity and reality without the result being a bore. His idea was dual dressing, inspired when his muse and assistant, Amanda Harlech, put an old dress over one she had on. "We were in this little shop, and I liked the proportion of the two dresses, and I thought, `Why not call it dual?' " he said. "Couture is expensive. It's two for the price of three. That's a joke, but couture must be refined to the end."
One of the prettiest looks in the show was a short white satin dress with high rolled collar and a black band at the waist. Over it Mr. Lagerfeld put a classic Chanel bouclé suit, bringing the white satin collar out; by removing the skirt, the model had another look. Mr. Lagerfeld pursued his idea in ingenious ways — using a black tulle coat, based on a children's smock, to add transparent volume to a slim black lace gown, or slipping a chaste white coat over a flowing black dress with a beautiful open back. The line was close to the body, elegant, with some of the edges frayed to keep everything from turning precious.
Mr. Gaultier's "Three Musketeers" theme weighed heavily on his day clothes, though his new gabardine "trench" cape looked fresh. Once he moved away from the feather-pieced hats and high boots, the collection acquired real languor, with gowns draped low in the front. One in lilac velvet, with a drape over the shoulder, was a gem.
Just about everything in Mr. Lacroix's collection was delectable and wild, in a Life Savers roll of colors, occasionally spiked with black ribbon streamers. Mr. Lacroix also favored the cream-puff column, except, in his case, you didn't need mental scissors to snip away the excess. An Empire-waist green chiffon gown was modern couture at its best.
With so many couturiers focusing on red-carpet clothes, Ralph Rucci, the American designer who started showing here two years ago, has found a niche with his day suits and coats, which range from the quietly sublime (a purple cashmere suit with trumpet sleeves) to the coolly possessed (a sheared, lace-cut mink coat over gray trousers). Though crocodile minis with acid-tone brocade boots seemed misjudged, Mr. Rucci is learning the value of surprise: a chiffon blouse printed in three men's wear checks and daubed with tiny cutout flowers; tops made of thin horizontal strips of alligator and tulle; and compasslike tracings of Lesage embroidery on a sleeveless chocolate crepe column, the untied threads creating a feathery aura.
Mr. Rucci's clothes have an introspective quality, registered in the way a severe black duchess satin gown with tight cap sleeves displays a rash of tattered organza at the hem. But now and then he goes for broke, as couture demands, with a raj pants outfit in gold matelassé or a four-layered chiffon gown with tiny feathers shaking from the model's bare shoulder blades.
For Mr. Rucci, Paris has been liberating. "We can create anything we want," he said. "Couture has also given us extraordinary exposure."
No one would ever accuse Valentino of the humble or practical. His show on a mirrored runway literally reflected couture's fantasy and the skill of his Roman workrooms. Why have a crocodile jacket if it doesn't fit like a second skin or have the extra lavishment of sable and an embroidered skirt? Yet for all the luscious colors, drama and sense of female entitlement, it's Valentino's eye for the eccentric gesture — Alek Wek in a black beaded column trailed by an airy skirt of ruffled white taffeta — that speaks to the consummate individualist. And her numbers are fading fast.
"It was cryingly beautiful," pronounced Ms. Winfrey as Valentino began the backstage kissing business. "Ever since I bought my first scarf, I've loved Valentino. Now I can afford to buy the whole outfit."
Good article, I'll say....
