Melodrama on the runway
Paris — Paris
From the moment the first Dior kabuki clown stepped out onto the runway, you knew you were in Paris, where clothes are important, but fashion-as-theater is transcendent.
Shown under a tent in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, John Galliano’s pan-Asian collection for Dior was a Technicolor shock to the system, replete with Pierrot-meets-geisha-girl makeup, and enough wild prints to swath an entire Chinese New Year parade. Skin-tight shapes formed the base for a newly exaggerated silhouette on top, a recurring theme this season. Blouses with ruffled organza clown collars framed the face, and silk jackets in vibrant patterns evoking Chinese lanterns and Japanese woodcuts, wrapped models like wontons in voluminous folds. Feet were “bound” in platform stilettos with enough straps and buckles to make one poor model trip and fall to her knees on the runway.
With the clown faces and the bound feet, surely Galliano was speaking with a bit of irony about the game of fashion and the way women slavishly follow it. This is the man after all, who named his perfume “Addict,” designed T-shirts proclaiming the sentiment “J’Adore Dior,” and told Women’s Wear Daily, “I can take anything and make it chic. Just watch me.” He has a point; Dior’s profits were $36 million for 2002, up from a $6-million loss the year before, according to WWD. Of course, most of the money was made in shoes and handbags, where the runway’s high-minded ideas find lucrative expression. Dior’s was only the first of many extravaganzas. Alexander McQueen’s fall collection was inspired by the notion of wide open space, in particular the tundra he crossed over while flying recently from London to Japan. “It’s just space,” he said.”But I think it’s what everyone needs a little more of right now.”
McQueen created a barren landscape with a sprinkling of fake snow, where his broad-shouldered babes had room to strut. He touched on many themes on the way to Japan: a gold brocade dress with pointy pleats brought to mind the skirts worn by men in Elizabethan England and an embroidered red silk parka trimmed in snow white fur resembled Mongolian dress. For the jaw-dropping finale, a topless model fought her way through a wind tunnel that was suspended from the ceiling, while trailing a 25-foot kimono.
Viktor & Rolf proved that drama can be achieved simply. The Dutch duo went back to their menswear roots and devised a powerful new linebacker proportion. A black bolero jacket was puffed up like a boxing glove, and blazers and Oxford shirts fanned out like accordions at the shoulders, with multiple layers -- up to 10 on one garment -- of lapels and collars. Despite how it sounds, this was one of their most wearable collections to date, with an intriguing motocross-style tuxedo jacket and a few sleek black satin shirtdresses to round things out.
V&R; enlisted their pal Tilda Swinton to model. “Follow your own path.... There is only one of you,” the actress repeated in a voice-over. Viktor Horsting said afterward, “We felt it was a time for introspection and intimacy, which is why we turned to our friend.”
A changing silhouette was evident elsewhere on the runways, too. Rochas, the French fashion house that had its heyday in the 1930s and ‘40s under founder Marcel Rochas, is hoping for a revival with Olivier Theyskens. With wall-sized screens on either side of the runway showing images of swarming bumblebees, the Belgian designer most famous for dressing Madonna in her Goth phase punned about the buzz surrounding his debut. Ladylike cocktail dresses and coats in combinations of sumptuous satin, lace and tulle took on the shape of beehives, with humps built into the backs to create volume. Lace and tulle sprouted like wings from between the shoulders of trim little dinner jackets with wasp waists. Models carried blown-glass purses in the shape of honey pots. These clothes had a couture quality, but they’re probably more interesting to watch than to wear.
Dries van Noten pursued his own romantic vision, designing an enchanting production with a jungle of Christmas lights hanging over the runway like vines. There was a touch of the 1920s in the poetic mix of fabrics -- diamond-patterned knits, Indian sequined chiffons and Chinese florals -- draped into unstructured, one-button coats and long skirts with lopsided hems.
At Celine, Michael Kors gave retailers something sweet to sink their money into, with one of the more polished plays on the 1960s. The collection was heavy on graphic black and white, with a zebra-striped sequin miniskirt, a feminine, funnel-neck, white cashmere coat, black leather leggings and square-toed silver pumps that would make Pussy Galore purr.
Then there are those designers who travel not only in their own orbit, but in their own solar system. Often, their clothes just make you sit back and scratch your head, from the billy club-like sticks hanging from the waistbands of Helmut Lang’s intricately-laced fencing pants, to the hobo bundles on Commes des Garcons’ jackets and skirts. But it was Hussein Chalayan who really took the pretentious cake, setting his show not on a runway, but on a theater stage outfitted with a coffin, a confessional booth and a trampoline. A sextet played modern chamber music while a girl with helium balloons tied to her shoulders stared blankly into the audience. At the end, the models pulled rip cords on their skirts and let themselves inflate. Oh well, it wouldn’t be Paris fashion without a little hot air.
