The Frill of It All
Paris--One of the first design rules architecture students learn is contained in the acronym KISS: Keep It Simple, Stupid. It’s a tough time for women who like having such clear rules of style to follow. The clean minimalism that dominated fashion for the first half of this decade is changing, and a love of decoration is nipping at the purists’ heels.
The question isn’t what’s it to be--complex or simple, multiple prints or solid neutrals, fussy silhouettes or plain geometric cuts--but which designers make whatever mode they’re working in most appealing. There is no style war afoot. These two opposing camps can and do coexist--often within the same closet.
And their similarities are beginning to close in on their differences. Color is everywhere, and rich texture is important both to fashion’s eclectics and those for whom KISS has been a motto. With an international array of designers drawing inspiration from the likes of rocker Patti Smith, Mexican artist Frida Kahlo and the African American ‘50s movie star Dorothy Dandridge, the presentation of spring collections that concluded here Sunday would have to have a little of something for everyone.
First, something for the hedonist, courtesy of John Galliano. With a straight face, Barbara Walters used to ask all her interview subjects, “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?” If Galliano were a cocktail, he’d be a vodka martini (heavy on the vodka), the booze tinted turquoise with a pleated paper parasol sheltering the etched glass and olives rafting on their jeweled toothpicks.
Galliano is the greatest practitioner of wretched excess. The collection he called Haute Bohemia and dedicated to tragic beauty Dandridge offered only 34 outfits (compared to 214 in Valentino’s show a few days later). Unlike his designs for Christian Dior, his own line included some clothes for a woman who functions before sunset, if not in an office then at least at an afternoon wedding.
He layered brilliant Guatemalan prints and ikat weaves with ‘30s florals inset with ribbons of lace. As if that weren’t enough, pink and green polka-dotted high-heeled sandals with ankle straps, crazy-lady hats of faux flowers and all the major jewelry an only daughter might inherit were added on. One could see the wonderful, wearable ideas within Galliano’s mad assemblages--calf-length skirts that started straight, then flared out just below the knee, snug jackets that prettily pinched the waist. But to pick his creations apart would be killing the joy. Would that we could all live in the Technicolor tea party of Galliano’s imagination.
Kenzo and Dries Van Noten like to pile on layers of fabric and pattern too, but a National Geographic exoticism consistently pervades their work. Instead of traveling back in time to an old movie or another decade, they roam the globe, bringing home a sarong from here, a chieftain’s flowing robe from there. Tailored pieces are mixed in, as if an island girl covered up in the suit jacket her lover from London left behind. Kenzo has opened a boutique in Sunset Plaza, so Los Angeles women will have the opportunity to try his assured take on pan-ethnicity.
Gaultier’s destination was specific and south of our border. In a wild homage to Frida Kahlo, he brought out fringed shawls, cowboy hats and tiered peasant skirts. Gaultier is one of the best stylists in Paris, and he’s a master at staging a fashion extravaganza. But he’s also a superb tailor. So the pinstriped jackets his fans crave were in evidence, even if it sometimes felt as if he’d gone to a lot of trouble to disguise them. How many ways can you dress up a great pantsuit? Put a matching bra underneath, an apron over its trousers, flowered boxer shorts that peek out above a dropped waist. The variations are entertaining, but the suits are strong enough to survive without the tricks.
Karl Lagerfeld never has to look far for a heroine. Coco Chanel’s image is so indelible that she can be brought back repeatedly, and successfully, to embody the blend of innovation and tradition that is the lifeblood of Chanel. Bathing beauties from the ‘20s decked in navy and white rompers and slouchy trousers brought Coco to mind. The best of Chanel’s varied collection displayed an easiness that stood in marked contrast to the studied perfection of the women in the audience parading in their stiff Chanel uniforms. “Loosen up,” Lagerfeld seemed to be saying. Let a shirt hang out and open over full trousers.
He made a case for simplicity by leaving the gold double C buttons off everything, substituting dull silver chains threaded through jackets and trousers like the drawstrings of sweats. Then he went the way of adornment, piling on stacks of diamante bracelets or ropes of pearls.
Lagerfeld has been a vocal crusader against the sort of theft of ideas made simple by the Internet. Hours after a collection is shown, photographs from it are available online around the world, and imitators can enhance an image to see even the detail on a button. His way of thwarting copiers has been to do away with the runway and send eight or 10 models out at one time on a wide expanse of floor. It becomes difficult for an observer, or a photographer serving fashion pirates, to focus on a single garment.
At the end of the Chanel show, the show space was suddenly filled with women in glittering, fringed pastel tweeds with the feeling of modern, abstract art. After a mostly black, navy and white collection, the infusion of color made the pulse race. Although Lagerfeld experimented with alternatives, from sack dresses to high-waisted white linen hobble skirts, it is his colorful collection of dresses and suits, which broadcast Chanel even without a visible logo, that will be most in demand next spring.
