The Return of Haute Couture
With a new global clientele, fashion's highest art is on the rise
By CHRISTINA PASSARIELLO
Today haute couture is the most modern way to dress because it's very individual," says Pier Paolo Piccioli, who with Maria Grazia Chiuri designs Valentino's ethereal gowns. "It's like customizing your life; it means uniqueness."
There is no argument that haute couture is supremely beautiful. To think of it as the apex of modernity, however, goes against conventional wisdom. In fact, for several years, haute couture has been repeatedly declared on the brink of extinction. But perhaps reports of its death were premature. The strictly governed French craft of handmade and custom-fitted clothing, which is more than a century old, is undergoing a renaissance. In the past few years, six new labels have been awarded the official haute couture designation and entered the fray, bringing the total number of couture houses to 12. Long-established couturiers like Chanel and Valentino are reporting healthy sales. And new customers from emerging markets like China, Brazil, the Middle East and Russia have stepped in to bolster the ranks of the fading old guard.
The current state of couture has emerged from the ashes of economic turmoil. "Couture seems more relevant now than it was in the boom years," says designer Donatella Versace, who this season returned Atelier Versace to the official couture runway after eight years of low-key presentations. "The global downturn has made people think about the value of things. Couture may be expensive, but as a reflection of the designer's art, and as an expression of pure creativity in fashion, it is unsurpassed."
As a rule, couture houses are secretive about their clientele. Purchasing a custom-made, five-figure piece of clothing comes with the gift of discretion, a rare commodity in our publicity-crazed world. But executives describe many of their new clients as relatively young working women—doctors, lawyers, executives—who spend their own salaries, often on daywear and not merely for special occasions like weddings and black-tie galas. One of Valentino's recent couture clients, for example, is an equestrian enthusiast who wanted a bespoke jacket to wear with her riding pants.
Where you can really see a marked shift is in many of these houses' post-show itineraries. Up until just a few years ago, most clients were in the U.S. and Western Europe, and after the runway shows in Paris, designers would take their collections to New York City and Los Angeles for additional presentations. Now Dior, Chanel and Armani Privé all go to Hong Kong, Shanghai and Dubai, and do private appointments in many other cities. The atelier heads also travel for individual fittings, maintaining the personalized relationship the houses have long cultivated with their clients despite couture's recently globalized nature.
This all evokes a culture very different from that of traditional haute couture: wealthy socialites in grand dresses from idolized designers such as Christian Dior and Jeanne Lanvin. For many years, that's certainly what it was. After World War II, these houses outfitted a newly prosperous class of society ladies, heiresses and royalty, from Babe Paley, Marella Agnelli and Grace Kelly in the '50s and '60s to Nan Kempner, Lynn Wyatt and Dodie Rosekrans in the '70s and '80s. Meanwhile the '90s saw the rise of prodigious and quite public couture buyers like Mouna al-Ayoub, then the wife of a Saudi businessman, and Suzanne Saperstein, a former Swedish model who was the wife of a Texas billionaire. They stand in stark contrast to the discreet shopper of today. Now it's difficult to find women who so openly display their membership to the couture club.
But couture also began to get stuck in the past. Women entered the workforce and discovered the efficient pleasure of buying off the rack; ready-to-wear itself became a glossier commodity. It was previously the domain of department stores, which traveled to Paris to visit couture salons and buy the right to produce cheaper versions of their collections on an industrial scale. Yves Saint Laurent changed that second-fiddle reputation when he created his first full ready-to-wear collection in 1966 in an attempt to democratize high fashion. When Cristobal Balenciaga shuttered his couture atelier in 1968, it was clear that times had changed.
Couture seemed to hit rock bottom in the middle of the last decade, when Balmain, Yves Saint Laurent, Emanuel Ungaro and Christian Lacroix all showed their final collections. For the labels that remained, couture became a way to stand out amid the clutter of hundreds of ready-to-wear lines. For the likes of Dior, Chanel and Valentino—which all typically reserved a sky's-the-limit budget both for dramatic staging and the collections themselves—the image of haute couture provided a halo of luxury around the label to help peddle mass-market items such as perfume and makeup.
As haute couture undergoes the process of revival once more, its insular and quintessentially Parisian nature is changing. To wit, many of today's practitioners are not French. Italian designer Giambattista Valli debuted just last year, joining Giorgio Armani, which launched couture label Armani Privé in 2005, and Versace, which began in 1989 as part of the Milanese contingent. And there's Lebanese designer Elie Saab, who does a robust business for his gowns. Perhaps it's only fitting for what appears to be couture's ever more global future.