Inventing a new kind of designer
KARL Lagerfeld was an extraordinary designer – as famous as the celebrities he dressed. But for a lot of people he was a celebrity before he was anything else.
Lagerfeld, who died on Tuesday in Paris, was a multitasking renaissance man who kept the 109-year-old Paris Chanel vibrant, desirable and culturally relevant. He served as Chanel’s creative director for more than three decades.
He also spent 54 years at Fendi, helping to transform it into an international brand. He founded a signature collection – all with modest levels of success.
Lagerfeld dabbled in book publishing, he took up photography, he said mean things about others, he said selfdeprecating things, he hated fat and he venerated skinny.
Yet, he might best be known for his distinctive appearance
– an Edwardian rock-and-roller suited up with high white collars, skinny black trousers, fingers full of rings and powdered white hair swept back into a ponytail. He didn’t so much walk as strut with a cocky toe-heel, toe-heel gait.
Lagerfeld hated looking back. He despised retrospectives. His concern was the present. “The greatest tribute we can pay is to follow the path he traced – to quote Karl – ‘by continuing to embrace the present and invent the future’,” Chanel fashion president Bruno Pavlovsky said.
When hip-hop style began to hold sway with young people, he incorporated that ideology – for better and, often, worse – into Chanel. His haute couture collections were a breathtaking display of artistry and precision.
Lagerfeld came of age in the 1950s alongside the greats such as Yves Saint Laurent. He studied and apprenticed for others. It was craft first, and then everything else.
His ready-to-wear shows were a torrent of ideas. He would flood the runway with about 80 models, each wearing ensembles spectacularly appealing and at other times spectacularly not. He seemed at peace with both. Fashion was a constant evolution.
“If there’s something I don’t like or understand, it’s my problem. I have to adapt and find my niche,” he said.
His fashion shows were set against elaborate backdrops perfect for the era of Instagram and social media. He commissioned a faux Paris bistro, a supermarket, an art gallery.
He was taken to task by racial justice advocates for his lack of black models on the Chanel runway. And in recent years his casting became more diverse.
In 2017 he sparked a public spat with actress Meryl Streep by claiming she’d decided against wearing Chanel to the Oscars because another design house had paid her to wear its dress. The story was not true. He suggested that singer Adele was “a little too fat” and churned up social media outrage. In 2013 he was accused of cultural appropriation for his use of Native American headdresses on the runway. In the 1990s he offended Muslims when verses from the Qur’an were embroidered on Chanel garments.
Lagerfeld transformed the way in which fashion operates and the way in which people relate to it. He recognised that most people aren’t looking for avantgarde notions but to be relevant, to fit in. They are searching for status and value.
He invented a new kind of designer – applying his talents to a host of endeavours. He made it look easy, but even he sometimes fell short.