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The collections: Mighty McQueen marathon
Suzy Menkes IHT Monday, October 13, 2003
Three Gs dominated Paris fashion's big weekend. Gucci Group's drama: the future of creative director Tom Ford will be decided on Thursday. Generational change: the age of designers at French houses has dropped from 50's to 30's. Glory: Alexander McQueen gave an exceptional show of skill and imagination.
The British designer, coincidentally part of Gucci Group, choreographed a dance-till-you-drop Depression-era scenario, where the glamour gowns morphed into disheveled patchworks. McQueen's show, offering both emotion and fine clothes, was at the summit of the summer 2004 season.
But the real story is in the takeover of designer labels by a postfeminist generation. These designers have a new view of femininity, from the buttercup-fresh Nina Ricci line that was Lars Nilsson's debut through strong showings from Chloé, John Galliano and Stella McCartney. With mannish pantsuits softened to meltdown and a focus on featherlight dresses, fashion has turned a bare and beribboned back on androgyny.
McQueen's show validated the brouhaha of the international collections, which close in Paris on Tuesday. Out on to the wooden floor of a faded Belle Epoque dance hall stepped jaunty couples, the men muscular sailors, the women wearing glam gowns with a 1930's feel. In silver gray, with sequined cap sleeves, plumed skirts or ruffled hems, they seemed destined for dancing. Feather capes wafted, legs in knickers swung upwards and chiffon dresses shook to the jitterbug music.
A manic marathon followed: wild dancing in athletic tops and skirts with fluorescent color mixed with romantic prints. In the third act, the stumbling, exhausted dancers were in embroidered dresses, distressed like shards of broken glass, or in coats made up of a rainbow of leather patches.
With extraordinary imagination and finesse, McQueen's obsessions played out: degeneration, decadence and death, as the danse macabre ended with a model lying in a pool of silver dress.
"I saw the [1969 Sydney Pollack] movie 'They Shoot Horses, Don't They?' - and I thought it was a wonderful for a show," said McQueen who had worked with the London choreographer Michael Clarke for six months. The result was a fireball of energy, imagination and exceptional clothes.
It would be nice to say the same of Viktor Rolf, but the Dutch duo went from conceptual to commercial in one fell swoop. Although their show, a homage both to the great days of Hollywood and to Paris haute couture, was well-executed, it missed both a frisson of the unexpected and the irony inherent to the designers' aesthetic.
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Or maybe it was ironic that Pierre Bergé, Yves Saint Laurent's partner, was front row to watch the parade of tailored pantsuits, trench coats and classy evening gowns. As Bergé put it: "so much the better if it is like Saint Laurent - and I loved the sense of color." He was referring to the pretty evening palette of dusky pink and gray - and maybe to the red shoes that gave the show a Judy Garland touch.
The stab at couture elegance included some fine pieces, especially the full skirts set on a frilled hip line and the fresh white cotton shirts that had a whiff of Gianfranco Ferre's fashion architecture. And that was the problem with this show. It was elegantly executed, but not very inventive from a fashion house that, as its 10-year museum exhibition in Paris proves, has always previously carried an element of the unexpected.
At Nina Ricci, Nilsson did beautifully the pretty womanliness that is the general story. The designer defined that as "light lingerie dresses," meaning delicate, lacy creations in orange and yellow worn with soft satin skirts. The bow was a constant theme, fastening straps at the back, as twin knots in yellow chiffon or as a twist at the base of an easy jacket. Everything from the pinwheel print flowers to the glistening white dresses had the scent of summer. And if the clothes seemed sweet and polite rather than ground-breaking, this seemed just right for the image of the Nina Ricci fashion house, which is owned by the Spanish fragrance company Puig.
"Movement - in color, fabric, everything," said Stella McCartney backstage after her show of wafting chiffon dresses in ombré shading, where the soft sea green and bois de rose colors went from dark to light between neck and floaty asymmetric hems. The dresses were anchored at the throat and sometimes by light knits as a base. It was a fine display of dreamy prettiness, cheered by Sir Paul McCartney and his pregnant wife, Heather. But these were getaway summer clothes, including cute swimwear with high-waist pants and butterfly evening dresses pinioned by smocking. Only three outfits looked like workwear - especially a soft jacket wrapped like a ballet top. But McCartney herself showed how to wear the light stuff - with fitted jeans and denim micro mini.
At Chloé, Phoebe Philo is gaining in confidence and sent out a fresh and appealing show mixing high-waisted denim pants, broderie anglaise shorts, soft crepe shirts and off-the-shoulder tops with deep dolman sleeves. It all added up to a sporty sweetness, womanly rather than girlie. Its base was the late 1970's, but salopette tops, striped shirts, and patches of smocking and silver dragonfly jewels were given a modern spin. A banana print and a pom-pom edge caftan were the only misses in a hit collection.
Another smart young woman is working wonders at Paco Rabanne (also owned by Puig). Rosemary Rodriguez seems to understand the hard, shiny metallic heritage of the house, but made 1960's futurism modern by integrating it with sportswear. "Energetic, athletic and with movement," said Rodriguez of her action pieces that included hooded tops, white parkas and trench coats and even customized Nike calf shields - all stirred with silver chainmail and lit with bright orange and turquoise.
Refreshing the brand is not going so well at Givenchy, where Julien MacDonald was on an Ibiza trip. His models looked like they had dipped cheesecloth in a jar of marmalade, tried macramé therapy on the beach, pulled tassels off the hotel curtains and set off on the hippie trail carrying their worldly goods in gigantic bags. The dresses were pretty in a girlish way, worn off the shoulder with inserts of crochet or shells in skirts that ended in up-and-down hemlines. What it had to do with the chic and sophisticated house of Givenchy is anyone's guess.
Two women designers looked at fashion's softer side. Martine Sitbon did bows and roses, quite nicely, if ad infinitum, making butterfly bows as the back of a knit or cabbage roses whorled into pink satin bosoms. Ann Demeulemeester sent out white T-shirts with "Black Rose" in mirror lettering and vice versa, with all her usual droopy gothic garments trailing loose pockets and long strings. There were more different renditions of "Be My Sugar Baby" on the soundtrack than variety on the runway.
The ultimate sugar confections came from John Galliano whose charming "rock-coco" collection featured tiny straw boaters balanced on Pompadour wigs, ballooning sleeves and bustles, rosebud prints, bow earrings and broderie anglaise stockings. The feminine, fragile and froufrou show had a spun sugar lightness that is typical of Galliano at his romantic best.
Suzy Menkes is the fashion editor of the International Herald Tribune.
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