JOYOUS RESTRAINT
Buzzy French designer Marine Serre is stitching together a celebratory vision for the future of fashion.
IN A MODERN WORLD that moves at breakneck speed, restraint has become more of an aesthetic virtue than an ethical one. Think about Instagram, which has sprouted a whole industry of products—from bed linens to makeup to bidets—designed to capture your attention using the clean lines and soothing minimalism that are best suited to a smartphone display. This visual representation of restraint is purchasable—a way to signify taste and moderation and assimilation into the middle class. The convenient model of direct-to-consumer brands has become shorthand for transparency while bricks and mortar represent the chaos of the offline world, but businesses in both models often outsource the production of their wares, especially in the world of fashion, which largely relies on low-wage garment workers in countries like Bangladesh, Cambodia and even the U.S. After all, consumption itself is in opposition to true restraint.
So, clear-eyed French designer Marine Serre is challenging this performative restraint by developing new materials and rethinking methods of garment production. In fact, upcycling now reportedly constitutes 50 percent of Serre’s business. It’s an admirable statement of insurrection and ingenuity in an industry driven by endless consumption—and something that only a keen newcomer could pull off. (In 2017, Serre won the prestigious LVMH Prize—she’s the youngest recipient to date—while working with Demna Gvasalia at Balenciaga.) “I do not want to lose myself in marketing,” she said in a recent interview. “I am supposed to lead this brand. I want to create this family of people working with me, and I want them to believe in something.” ➤
Serre’s brand, which launched in 2017, is divided into four lines that speak to her creative production methods: White is affordable, tailored staples made from new materials like recycled plastics; Green explores upcycled production by transforming deadstock, household linens and old denim and leather through a costly, labour-intensive process; Red is artisanal couture pieces; and Gold is hybrid garments, combining recycled and upcycled materials. Serre’s unconventional process makes apparent the disturbing math behind garment production, but because her world view defines “restraint” as virtuous and innovative, she’s helping to reposition upcycling and recycling as coveted forms of craftsmanship, pulling on the heartstrings of fashion’s artisanal purists.
But Serre’s master stroke—the demi-lune logo that’s a slightly restrained riff on the loud-ass all-over print popularized by streetwear brands like BAPE in the 2000s—hones in on the aesthetic virtues of gen Z. The motif has decorated denim, turtlenecks, collaborative Nike leisurewear and nape-to-toe bodysuits, but it reached icon status this past summer when Beyoncé and her dancers wore beige-on-brown Serre demi-lune bodysuits in the Black Is King musical film.
That delicate crescent moon is a potent symbol in a spiritually chaotic era. In fact, looking at images of Serre’s fall/winter 2020/2021 runway presentation is an unnerving experience. The clothes straddle the past and the future, evoking the domesticity and homesteading of a post-apocalyptic tomorrow. Household textiles that might have been shams, doilies and bedskirts are transformed into flowing pinafores and tunics as well as fringed shawls draped with regal precision. A range of protective items—gloves, masks, headwear—conjure the sensation of nature in revolt. Fair Isle-knit gowns, coats lined with patchwork animal pelts and demilune-embossed leather footwear suggest that luxury and beauty will endure, albeit reimagined for a more resourceful world. Models, including young children, emerge from the dust wearing goldenrod-tinted denim, yellow sunglasses and silks in shades of fuchsia and chartreuse. The collection’s progression from bleak to uplifting reflects the emotional and imaginative shift that sustainable fashion requires consumers to make: to move away from the idea that recycled fashion is repressive or restricting and embrace the notion that upcycling is liberatory—and maybe even utopian.