PARIS, MARCH 4, 2016
by NICOLE PHELPS
There was a good deal of mystery around Faith Connexion in the early days. The story went that Christophe Decarnin, the designer who made his name at Balmain, was behind the scenes, but nobody was saying for sure. Over the seasons, Faith Connexion reps have begun referring to Decarnin by name, but he still remains a reluctant presence, preferring to let the brand’s graffitied army jackets, hand-painted second-skin jeans, and frilled, fraying New Romantic blouses speak for themselves—and, absent a budget, to leave the marketing to word of mouth and a modest Instagram account. Decarnin shares his approach with Saint Laurent’s Hedi Slimane, who largely refused to do interviews early on in his YSL tenure, and, as we all know, moved the design studio to Los Angeles. There are similarities in their rock ’n’ roll–loving sensibilities, too. Both designers pillage from alternative subcultures, yet still have wicked street cred, a very neat trick.
If the rumors are accurate, and Slimane exits Saint Laurent, Decarnin could slot in quite nicely. It’s been rumored that Anthony Vaccarello is in line for the job, and that makes Decarnin a long-shot candidate for sure, but don’t write him off too quickly. His Balmain days weren’t so long ago that we’ve forgotten the excitement around him.
There’s a direct lineage between Decarnin’s Balmain moment and Faith Connexion. The lived-in, ravaged vibes are the same, only here his foundation is denim and army surplus, much more crowded categories than couture. One way the brand has been able to distinguish itself among its legions of competitors is with the sur-mesure aspect of its personalized military jackets, one of which was recently modeled by Beyoncé. Decarnin and co. have also expanded beyond jeans and cargos, and the tees and flannels you wear with them. The news this season was in the tweedy, fringed Chanel-ish dresses, all that’s prim entirely zapped out of them by their oversize proportions and shaggy, unfinished edges. Most of the women’s collection was actually fit on men, which explains its slouched-on shapes, and the I-just-rolled-out-of-my-boyfriend’s-bed-and-pulled-this-on quality of the clothes. Alternatively, there were painted-on jeans—painted on in every sense, from the cut to the graffiti artist Pisco’s flames creeping up the hems. A surefire hit.
