How's this for a verdict ?
The body within
[font=arial,helvetica,sans-serif]Jess Cartner-Morley witnesses a quiet revolution at Paris Fashion Week[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Friday March 11, 2005
The Guardian
[/font][font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Last week in Paris the fashion industry, which for the best part of a decade has been reeling in the wake of the celebrity culture explosion, finally re-asserted its independence.
The wraparound coverage of every aspect of the physical appearance of celebrities, from what they wear on the Oscar red carpet to tabloid cellulite exposés, which has been such a phenomenon of recent years, knocked the ground from under the feet of the fashion industry. Suddenly the definition of glamour, and the power to set trends, were no longer the province of designers, but territory colonised by celebrities and their stylists. All that designers could do was hang around the velvet ropes, currying favour by dressing the celebrities the way they wanted to dress.
Tom Ford, with his knack for sniffing out the zeitgeist, was one of the first to take advantage of this: his iconic Gucci advertising campaigns looked like scenes from the VIP room of a film premiere. Which, of course, was exactly where the clothes were headed.
But finally, fashion is rebelling. There has been a quiet revolution on the catwalks. Designers have begun once again to experiment with shape in a new way, to produce clothes that have a built-in structure and volume all of their own which is not dictated by the body within. Doesn't sound like much, I know, but a skirt that is triple pleated at the hipbone to stand away from the body, turning in again at the knee, is complete anathema to the Hollywood aesthetic, which is all about accentuating, and displaying, the awesomeness of a body honed by silicone and sit-ups. The seeds of the revolution began with the full skirt, which has been around for several seasons, but which until now was usually worn with a cinched waist as a sop to the body beautiful. But this season, several collections passed without a single wasp waist or snake hip in sight.
Backstage after his Louis Vuitton show, Marc Jacobs was the first to point out that his "new silhouette" is not, actually, new at all, as anyone with the most passing acquaintance with Yohji Yamamoto or Rei Kawakubo will have realised. There is much that is borrowed from Paris's venerable Japanese names, and much is owed, too, to the experiments of the glory days of Paris haute couture. But fashion has always had the memory of a goldfish. Fashion obsessives will get excitedly sentimental about reviving clothes from five years ago, whereas most normal people are still wearing clothes they bought five years ago, quite without irony.
The "new" look came in many different guises. At Louis Vuitton, Jacobs had refined the full-skirted shapes that looked rather lumpy at New York fashion week only a month ago. The key to a successfully voluminous skirt is to somehow make it look light as air, rather than sack-of-potatoes heavy. The names reflect this: "bubble", "puff". There were softly swelling coats in olive satin, and jade silk crepe skirts with the pleats flowing into ribbons. Turned-under ("turban") hems and jackets cut wide as a bell, to look like capes, gave everything a soft edge. But with mink trims on handbags, and the house monogram reprised in gold leaf, you can be sure the price tags will be hard-hitting.
Lanvin, designed by the utterly adorable Alber Elbaz, was, if anything, less full and dreamy than last season: just as the rest of the fashion world was heading in Elbaz's direction, he has pulled back from the brink. None the less, there is a beguiling old-school propriety to Lanvin. The long-sleeved velvet party dress is somehow both nursery-angelic and chic at the same time, and the styling - black velvet Alice bands and satin slippers - has exactly the right tone of ballet-school poise.
Giambattista Valli, the ex-Ungaro designer who last week presented his first own-name collection, was precisely on-trend with his vintage Tatler-esque puffball cocktail dresses - and added a new shape, in the form of a dress in shades of rhubarb and custard, with turban-hem pleated skirt and simple sleeveless top. At Stella McCartney, knitted sweater dresses stood proud of the body in a sensual, hip-emphasising outline; a drop-waisted silk coat flared from the hip seam into an elegant tulip skirt. At Chloe, the layering of light fabrics was used to brilliant effect: folds of chiffon float atop one another with air between. Bands of heavy velvet at the hem of full skirts were used to weight the fabric, giving an exaggerated side-to-side swing.
At Alexander McQueen, whippet-slender lines were balanced by the luxe-duvet appeal of a fur coat with quilted silk lining and the formal lines of a sunray printed silver lamé cocktail dress. A tweed, Jackie Kennedy-era coat was cut straight as a pin at the front, but with a pronounced puff to its side view. McQueen was one of my favourite collections; another was the very different Dries Van Noten. His was a collection with real glamour, but with an easiness in place of edginess. The feast of gorgeous colours, from mustard and coffee to sage and raspberry, was striking, even challenging, but also very pretty. The bounty of shapes - a turban-hem skirt beneath a slouch-shouldered coat, for instance - was opulent, but never flash.
At Chanel, even the little tweedy suit now has a tulip shaped, or swingily pleated, skirt. This new shape was stylishly underplayed, made entirely wearable and extremely covetable, and featured in a host of classic colour combinations, from black-and-white to peaches-and-cream. At Yves Saint Laurent, the slim trouser suits that paid homage to the heyday of the house's founder were counterbalanced with tiered and quilted white chiffon dresses which had a naïve, Pierrot quality. To wear a puff or tulip shape is one thing; to wear it in white is another. Stunning, but only for the brave.
Christian Lacroix, who popularised the puffball skirt 20 years ago, was, as ever, a riot. A gold and olive brocade frock coat with fox lining, worn over a gold flower-embroidered sequin top and banana yellow skirt with black trim, suggested that Lacroix's new masters (the designer was sold by LVMH in January) are cramping neither his style nor his budget. At Hermés, now designed by Jean Paul Gaultier, it was by contrast a case of simple pieces made lavishly: a deep navy cashmere high-waisted coat, with a painstakingly precise and subtle curve to the skirt; a swingy black velvet skirt with sheer chiffon in the insets. The jury is out as to what extent the new look will catch on. Some of the more fashion-aware high-end actors - Uma Thurman and Natalie Portman, perhaps - are probably jumping into catwalk samples as I write. But I imagine it will be some time before the tulip-shaped skirt becomes de rigueur at Pangaea or wherever it is soap stars and chavistocrats hang out these days. It's a great image: Girls Aloud falling out of a limo in bubble coats, Alice bands and opaque tights. Aah, a girl can dream.
I could have done with more on Stefano Pilati at Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche , but she's certainly been very fair to Marc Jacobs at Louis Vuitton .
Is she right to stick to just the major labels ?
Jess can be quite astute when she forgets the ' girly ' chat of her Saturday column in the Guardian ' but I don't think she's up to Cathy Horyn's standard .
[/font]
The body within
[font=arial,helvetica,sans-serif]Jess Cartner-Morley witnesses a quiet revolution at Paris Fashion Week[/font]
[font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Friday March 11, 2005
The Guardian
[/font][font=Geneva,Arial,sans-serif]Last week in Paris the fashion industry, which for the best part of a decade has been reeling in the wake of the celebrity culture explosion, finally re-asserted its independence.
The wraparound coverage of every aspect of the physical appearance of celebrities, from what they wear on the Oscar red carpet to tabloid cellulite exposés, which has been such a phenomenon of recent years, knocked the ground from under the feet of the fashion industry. Suddenly the definition of glamour, and the power to set trends, were no longer the province of designers, but territory colonised by celebrities and their stylists. All that designers could do was hang around the velvet ropes, currying favour by dressing the celebrities the way they wanted to dress.
Tom Ford, with his knack for sniffing out the zeitgeist, was one of the first to take advantage of this: his iconic Gucci advertising campaigns looked like scenes from the VIP room of a film premiere. Which, of course, was exactly where the clothes were headed.
But finally, fashion is rebelling. There has been a quiet revolution on the catwalks. Designers have begun once again to experiment with shape in a new way, to produce clothes that have a built-in structure and volume all of their own which is not dictated by the body within. Doesn't sound like much, I know, but a skirt that is triple pleated at the hipbone to stand away from the body, turning in again at the knee, is complete anathema to the Hollywood aesthetic, which is all about accentuating, and displaying, the awesomeness of a body honed by silicone and sit-ups. The seeds of the revolution began with the full skirt, which has been around for several seasons, but which until now was usually worn with a cinched waist as a sop to the body beautiful. But this season, several collections passed without a single wasp waist or snake hip in sight.
Backstage after his Louis Vuitton show, Marc Jacobs was the first to point out that his "new silhouette" is not, actually, new at all, as anyone with the most passing acquaintance with Yohji Yamamoto or Rei Kawakubo will have realised. There is much that is borrowed from Paris's venerable Japanese names, and much is owed, too, to the experiments of the glory days of Paris haute couture. But fashion has always had the memory of a goldfish. Fashion obsessives will get excitedly sentimental about reviving clothes from five years ago, whereas most normal people are still wearing clothes they bought five years ago, quite without irony.
The "new" look came in many different guises. At Louis Vuitton, Jacobs had refined the full-skirted shapes that looked rather lumpy at New York fashion week only a month ago. The key to a successfully voluminous skirt is to somehow make it look light as air, rather than sack-of-potatoes heavy. The names reflect this: "bubble", "puff". There were softly swelling coats in olive satin, and jade silk crepe skirts with the pleats flowing into ribbons. Turned-under ("turban") hems and jackets cut wide as a bell, to look like capes, gave everything a soft edge. But with mink trims on handbags, and the house monogram reprised in gold leaf, you can be sure the price tags will be hard-hitting.
Lanvin, designed by the utterly adorable Alber Elbaz, was, if anything, less full and dreamy than last season: just as the rest of the fashion world was heading in Elbaz's direction, he has pulled back from the brink. None the less, there is a beguiling old-school propriety to Lanvin. The long-sleeved velvet party dress is somehow both nursery-angelic and chic at the same time, and the styling - black velvet Alice bands and satin slippers - has exactly the right tone of ballet-school poise.
Giambattista Valli, the ex-Ungaro designer who last week presented his first own-name collection, was precisely on-trend with his vintage Tatler-esque puffball cocktail dresses - and added a new shape, in the form of a dress in shades of rhubarb and custard, with turban-hem pleated skirt and simple sleeveless top. At Stella McCartney, knitted sweater dresses stood proud of the body in a sensual, hip-emphasising outline; a drop-waisted silk coat flared from the hip seam into an elegant tulip skirt. At Chloe, the layering of light fabrics was used to brilliant effect: folds of chiffon float atop one another with air between. Bands of heavy velvet at the hem of full skirts were used to weight the fabric, giving an exaggerated side-to-side swing.
At Alexander McQueen, whippet-slender lines were balanced by the luxe-duvet appeal of a fur coat with quilted silk lining and the formal lines of a sunray printed silver lamé cocktail dress. A tweed, Jackie Kennedy-era coat was cut straight as a pin at the front, but with a pronounced puff to its side view. McQueen was one of my favourite collections; another was the very different Dries Van Noten. His was a collection with real glamour, but with an easiness in place of edginess. The feast of gorgeous colours, from mustard and coffee to sage and raspberry, was striking, even challenging, but also very pretty. The bounty of shapes - a turban-hem skirt beneath a slouch-shouldered coat, for instance - was opulent, but never flash.
At Chanel, even the little tweedy suit now has a tulip shaped, or swingily pleated, skirt. This new shape was stylishly underplayed, made entirely wearable and extremely covetable, and featured in a host of classic colour combinations, from black-and-white to peaches-and-cream. At Yves Saint Laurent, the slim trouser suits that paid homage to the heyday of the house's founder were counterbalanced with tiered and quilted white chiffon dresses which had a naïve, Pierrot quality. To wear a puff or tulip shape is one thing; to wear it in white is another. Stunning, but only for the brave.
Christian Lacroix, who popularised the puffball skirt 20 years ago, was, as ever, a riot. A gold and olive brocade frock coat with fox lining, worn over a gold flower-embroidered sequin top and banana yellow skirt with black trim, suggested that Lacroix's new masters (the designer was sold by LVMH in January) are cramping neither his style nor his budget. At Hermés, now designed by Jean Paul Gaultier, it was by contrast a case of simple pieces made lavishly: a deep navy cashmere high-waisted coat, with a painstakingly precise and subtle curve to the skirt; a swingy black velvet skirt with sheer chiffon in the insets. The jury is out as to what extent the new look will catch on. Some of the more fashion-aware high-end actors - Uma Thurman and Natalie Portman, perhaps - are probably jumping into catwalk samples as I write. But I imagine it will be some time before the tulip-shaped skirt becomes de rigueur at Pangaea or wherever it is soap stars and chavistocrats hang out these days. It's a great image: Girls Aloud falling out of a limo in bubble coats, Alice bands and opaque tights. Aah, a girl can dream.
I could have done with more on Stefano Pilati at Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche , but she's certainly been very fair to Marc Jacobs at Louis Vuitton .
Is she right to stick to just the major labels ?
Jess can be quite astute when she forgets the ' girly ' chat of her Saturday column in the Guardian ' but I don't think she's up to Cathy Horyn's standard .
[/font]
hang out these days. It's a great image: Girls Aloud falling out of a limo in bubble coats, Alice bands and opaque tights. Aah, a girl can dream. 
