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Paris: the final word on fashion
BY GRAZIA’ S REBECCA LOW THOR PE
in 2018? In the frenzied journalist scrum backstage, we thrust iphone recorders under their noses and demand to know all the answers about how women want to look today – at a time when women are asserting themselves, marching and protesting, in an era when haute fashion must make itself relevant to survive. ‘So all that restrained black was a response to #Metoo and Time’s Up?’ ‘ Were those biodegradable plastics?’ ‘How will all that fake fur impact the environment?’ ‘Is intimacy the new sexy?’ ‘How is this bourgeois look empowering?’ ‘ Why is size diversity such an issue on the catwalk?’ Designers are not philosophers or politicians or fortune-tellers. They just make clothes. But in Paris, where the crème de la crème of talent shows on the last leg of the month-long show marathon, the
best of them create stories that go beyond wardrobing, reflecting the times as well as any good book, play or film.
On the last day, three collections summed up the shift in attitudes in the wake of #Metoo. Karl Lagerfeld responded by taking us into a Chanel forest. It was bleak, autumnal and melancholic. For a designer who has spent three decades skewing the house codes to suit the times, this was his most restrained collection in years – possibly ever. No ironic use of logos, subdued colour and certainly no overwhelming blockbuster set – unless you count the 50-foot oak trees and leaf-strewn mulch that had been shipped in to carpet the Grand Palais. Despite the huge space, he said it quietly, from the opening parade of sombre black coats and earthy tweeds that covered from throat to ankle, to the protective swaddling, including his take on the puffer – all of it astoundingly straightforward and wearable, intended to highlight the house’s beautiful craftsmanship.
Then came Miuccia Prada with her Miu Miu line. A girl gang with attitude. The intention was to portray diversity, not just in race but ‘ big and little’. The diminutive Elle Fanning led the way – all messy beehive and a slick of black eyeliner in chunky tan coat and winkle-picker boots – pursued by skinheads Slick Woods and Adwoa Aboah, atypically pretty Lily Mcmenamy and original rock ’n’ roll gap-tooth progeny Georgia Jagger. They looked defiant, like members of a late 1950s subcult looking for trouble, Elvis ringing in their ears. The clothes were pure flea market updates, but it seemed to be less of a comment on buying vintage – and not adding to the world’s stockpile of unwanted clothes – and more about a time when women were angry about inequality… Plus ça change.
‘ We have to be very, very aware about what’s going on,’ said Nicolas Ghesquière, the designer who gets to close the season (and often sums it up) with the final show, Louis Vuitton. He was talking about Time’s Up. ‘Of course, we think about it and discuss it every day, it’s a constant dialogue,’ he added. The surprise here wasn’t the spaceship he’d dropped into the Louvre ( he’s obsessed with time travel, mixing past with future to come up with something new – remember last season’s magic mix of 18th-century frock coats with futuristic souped-up trainers?). The shock was that he’d used his time capsule to go back to something utterly conventional: conservative knee-length skirts, roundshouldered jackets, strappy court shoes and neat pants – femininity of the haute bourgeois kind. ‘It’s quintessentially French, for sure,’ he said, talking about the women who had surrounded him growing up and his family of female friends who had inspired him. ‘ To empower women in a clichéd way is to put her in men’s clothes, but we forget some very strong women who changed the world didn’t dress like men or for men – and the woman I try to show today is that.’
For Dior’s feminist designer Maria Grazia Chiuri, it was full-on femo-power with the 1968 Paris student protests inspiring the set, which was papered with magazine covers of the era and slogans like ‘ Women’s Rights Are Human Rights’. Her collection was filled with kilt-skirt suits, check trouser suits, patchworked denim and a sweater that read: ‘C’EST NON, NON, NON ET NON!’
Elsewhere, women designers didn’t seem to want to lay down battle lines, but say it with intimacy, befriending their guests. Sarah Burton offered every member of the audience a personalised Aran sweater on their seat before softening all the edges at Alexander Mcqueen. She displayed her skill for tailoring the
perfect black trouser suit and a simple curvy black coat with a giant red bow on its back that evoked butterfly wings and made us swoon – and want to reach out and run our fingers through those dreamy silk fringed gowns. ‘It was about extreme nature, metamorphosis. Female power without losing her femininity,’ she said backstage afterwards.
Two other women, Clare Waight Keller at Givenchy and Natacha Ramsay-levi at Chloé, provided two equally talkedabout collections of the week. Where Chloé made the best case all season for the comeback of the skirt, Givenchy proposed the most convincing fake-fur coats and high-shine leathers brilliantly accessorised with pointy zipped ‘policemen’s’ boots and a tote bag named Jaws. And Stella Mccartney forged ahead with her commitment to sustainability – her invite was a pair of ‘completely recyclable’ socks and her collection was a riff on Stella house codes: strong tailoring and geeky lingerie hybrids, honing everything she stands for before she buys back her business from Kering, the luxury goods group – at least that’s what she hinted at backstage. And let’s not forget the 50th anniversary tribute to the late Sonia Rykiel, where designer Julie de Libran raised the roof of the Beaux Arts with a sweep of archive updates, a cascade of silver streamers and Bananarama belting out Venus: ‘She’s got it, yeah baby she’s got it.’
Meanwhile, other designers simply wanted to reduce the noise with apolitical fashion. ‘I wanted a quietness, a kindness, a confidence,’ said Jonathan Anderson at Loewe, where he reworked the classics – dufflffle duffle coat, tweed macs, leather jackets, long shirts over slim trousers – to dropdead delicious, want-it-all effffect. effect. Similarly, at Valentino, Pierpaolo Piccioli’s ode to the flflower flower reminded us that clothes don’t have to be groundbreaking, controversial or full of politico-feminist messages. Ththey They can simply be astoundingly beautiful.
What happened to glamour in Paris? Aside from the Balmain army clad in glassy (not classy) high-shine bodycon plastics and Saint Laurent’s sophisticated sizzling in liquorice black leathers, it was all but in hiding. What came full force, as ever in Paris, was mind-enhancing creativity. Ththere There are too many avant-gardists to mention here, so the last word goes to the mother of their group. Comme des Garçons founder Rei Kawakubo, 75, doesn’t do actual clothes on the catwalk – hasn’t done for years, leaving all that to her many commercial lines. Instead, she said it with exploding mattresses, mille-feuille layers of wadding, stratums of lace and frills, exuberantly sweet cocoons of campness. She’d been reading Susan Sontag’s 1964 Notes On Camp and, usually reticent about her work and inspirations, surprised us with an email to explain: ‘ This collection came out of the feeling that camp is really and truly something deep and new, and represents a value that we need. There are so many so-called styles, such as punk, that have lost their original rebel spirit today. I think camp can express something deeper and give birth to progress.’ Kawakubo has a long history of answering difficult questions about women and fashion. So here, in a world full of troubles and tension, her finale of models appeared like a paper chain – holding hands, smiling and laughing – telling us to revel in the joy of dressing up. As a closing statement on fashion month, what better message could there be?
in a wonderful, surreal dream-world ever since the moment our names were called out at last week’s Oscars ceremony. Sitting at the front next to the stage, I was a nervous wreck. I went from daunted to emotional to utter disbelief to ‘Oh my god! I need to get up on stage and speak in front of 33 million people now.’
I made a promise to Maisie Sly, the six-year-old deaf star of our film, that if we won, I’d do my speech in sign language. I didn’t want her to have to look at her interpreter and take her eyes off the stage. When we were casting, we did a nationwide search to find her. We contacted all the deaf charities in the UK and saw over 100 kids. Then Maisie walked in and blew us away. She’s so bright and absolutely brilliant.
The Silent Child was a very personal passion project. It took two years to make and there was absolutely no financial incentive. I wrote it in my bedroom then we crowdfunded the project for nine months – it cost £10,000. From the very beginning, my dad was my inspiration. He went deaf two years before he died, when I was 14. He’s the reason I learned sign language and got involved with the deaf community. He was the person I was thinking of up on stage, wishing so badly he was watching me from the audience. I know he’d be incredibly proud.
Being at the first post-weinstein Oscars was amazing. You could feel the change in the air – the way women and diversity were being celebrated. It felt more progressive and like there’s a spotlight on diversity now. It’s really important to remember that disability, including deafness, is diversity. Disability is hugely underrepresented in film but this is the year that’s all changing.
As incredible as the glamour was, Chris [Overton] – my fiancé and the director of The Silent Child – and I weren’t interested in partying with the A-list stars afterwards. It was being with our parents and the film crew that mattered most to us. We popped into the Vanity Fair after-party, grabbed a burger, had a quick chat with Allison Janney [who won Best Supporting Actress for her role in I, Tonya] and left in under five minutes. We rushed off to celebrate with our families and team back at our apartment. It was really important that we got back and showed them the award.
Next, I want to make the film featurelength or turn it into a drama. I’ve got an excited feeling this is just the beginning for deafness in film. Ours wasn’t sensationalised, it’s a reality for thousands of children living in a world of silence: they face communication barriers and lack of access to education. So I hope this contributes to getting sign language and deaf awareness into the curriculum in schools and on to our screens more. If we’ve started something with The Silent Child, I’ll be very proud.