Threads of Thought
From Paris for Fall, Ideas Worth Considering, If Not Wearing

By Robin Givhan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, March 6, 2007

PARIS, March 5

The fall collection shows ended here Sunday night with a model in the Miu Miu presentation walking off the runway in a strawberry-colored jacket and skirt that was girlish and sweetly well mannered -- but looked for all the world like it was constructed from the waffle-textured packing material that might cushion your new laptop.

The shows can say a lot about the way women are viewed because in fashion they serve as inspiration, raw material -- and customer. How do designers treat those fragile young models who will wear whatever they are told? How does a designer treat his willing victims?

Designers try hard here to elevate fashion to an art form. And they often find themselves tangled in pretentiousness while delivering unintentional abuse upon the female form. Yet fashion can be among the purest expressions of beauty, too, and one so emotional that it moves a person to tears, gleeful giggles or financial recklessness.

Most women will never wear one of designer Miuccia Prada's stiffly constructed, camel-colored suits with their boxy jackets and pleated skirts that stand away from the body. But her sweaters, with their almost geometric volume, may worm their way into more wardrobes. Only the most daring young woman may ever wear one of her sheer camel skirts. But a more conservative one might choose one of the equally revealing cardigans.

Prada's waffle-textured jackets and skirts in pale shades of sherbet looked familiar yet still surprising. We expect those shapes but not in fabric like that. Prada makes women look at their surroundings in a different way. Through this collection, with its welcoming colors and pleasing shapes, she encourages her audience to see beauty in unfamiliar places. That FedEx padded envelope? Don't laugh, you might be wearing a jacket made out of that same material someday. After all, Prada convinced a lot of people that a handbag made of industrial nylon is as precious as one made of leather.

Prada excels in merging creativity and logic, a rare ability in the fashion industry. The most exuberantly imaginative designers are often the least reasonable. They don't care if a woman can't sit in a dress as long as those giant mirrored discs on her rear end look "fierce."

Alexander McQueen

Lack of logic was one of the many problems that plagued designer Alexander McQueen when he presented his collection Friday. His line was inspired by the discovery that a distant relative, Elizabeth How, had been killed in Salem in 1692 after having been accused of practicing witchcraft. Bring on the blood-red pentagrams!

He could not have asked for a more perfect evening. A light but steady rain was falling. And for a locale, he chose a stadium on the outskirts of Paris, which gave the audience an immediate sense of beleaguered isolation.

But McQueen got lost in the theatricality of his show, with videos of crawling bugs, translucent fetuses and skulls. He cranked up the soundtrack with jarring music and the sound of nails on a chalkboard. He turned down the lights until you could barely see the person sitting next to you with the expression of horrified disbelief.

He sent his models out in dresses molded like an egg. They wore constricting corsets. Another had her torso encased in what could best be described as a ready-to-wear iron lung. The models looked pained and persecuted. And while there were several beautiful evening gowns, particularly one with a fluid silver bodice and black skirt, they were overshadowed by a presentation that reeked of anger and violence.

One editor suggested that McQueen was not demeaning women but rather underscoring their ability to overcome all obstacles. Even shackles cannot hold them down. Maybe that was his intent. But that analysis sounds like something from the mouth of a "Law and Order: SVU" perp just before the handcuffs are slapped on.

So many of those accused of being witches were attacked because they were outspoken, strong women. In a collection created in memory of just such a woman, McQueen wrapped it up in a bullying presentation that sapped women of their strength.

Nina Ricci, Hermes

For Nina Ricci, its Sunday morning show was meant to reestablish the prestige of a brand that had lost its lead designer. It would also be the first outing for new creative head Olivier Theyskens, who had worked for Rochas until that company closed its ready-to-wear division and put him out of a job.

Theyskens carved a window into a big white tent in the Tuileries that allowed the audience to see the bare branches of the trees in the distance. That simple act created a romantic vista that was the perfect backdrop for a collection with a thunderstorm-gray palette. It was filled with breezy dresses, jackets with balloon sleeves, mottled wool suits, stiletto-sharp jeans and evening gowns with spiraling tiers of ruffles.

It was a promising opening for Theyskens, who had been celebrated at Rochas for his artful evening wear but criticized for his small offering of day wear. In place of Nina Ricci's reputation for floral, hyper-feminine dresses, Theyskens introduced a more brooding, provocative femininity.

At Hermes on Saturday, the collection from Jean Paul Gaultier emerged as a blur of luxurious materials: crocodile, cashmere, glove leather. The theme was biker chic, but it really could have been anything at all so long as the house's handbags -- Birkins and Kellys -- were prominently featured. The ready-to-wear at Hermes serves as a mise-en-scene for the handbags. The clothes are beautiful but not especially memorable. They don't define an Hermes ready-to-wear aesthetic; they simply imply wealth.

Louis Vuitton

Contrast that with the ready-to-wear collection at Louis Vuitton. It, too, is a brand defined by its handbags. But while Hermes bags are about longevity and the idea that a woman might pass one down to her daughter, the Louis Vuitton brand is focused on trends. It is an absurdly expensive disposable fashion.

The clothes at Vuitton are fashion-conscious. A wearer may not necessarily feel rich, but she'll feel hip. They are unveiled with blaring fanfare. The grandeur of the show is in marked contrast with the availability of the collection, which is generally limited to flagship Vuitton boutiques. But the point is not to sell the clothes, but to sell Louis Vuitton as a fashion brand. Subliminal message: Go buy a bag. Or two. Or five.

Designer Marc Jacobs did his job well. Inside a steamy tent in a courtyard of the Louvre, Jacobs presented a rainbow-colored collection of matte lamé skirts, fuzzy wool sweaters, pleated leather skirts and wool jackets with huge, looping, crocheted epaulets. There was even something called a "waxed rabbit dress" that looked a bit like a fur dress that had been caught in a rainstorm and emerged dripping in cool.

Chloe

The greatest irony during these weeks of shows -- from New York to Milan and finally here -- is that all too often the pleasure of fashion goes missing. The fundamentals of commerce deaden the giddiness. Ego leads designers to "repair" collections that were never broken.

At the Chloe show Saturday, new designer Paulo Melim Andersson took a collection defined by girlish, vintage-inspired dresses and jackets, with an emphasis on delicate details and soft volume, and transformed it into a house filled with angry, asymmetrical black dresses, orange print skirts, platform combat boots and giant satchels tossed over the shoulder like a hobo's suitcase.

While every house has to evolve, Melim Andersson tossed out everything that was charming, enticing and -- arguably -- revenue-producing about the brand. He gutted a charming little cottage that just needed a new paint job.

John Galliano

Part of that decision is related to a reality of the fashion industry. Designers hate being predictable, and the fashion industry's philosophy is that change is always good. As a result, no matter how successful a brand is at producing a particular aesthetic, it risks becoming staid and forgotten if it becomes formulaic.

But beautiful clothes, the kind that set off a melody in your head, never bore.

John Galliano transformed an empty market shed into an exquisite bacchanal with banquet tables covered in candles, live chickens nestled in a pen, well-fed matrons enjoying a glass of wine at cafe tables, a giant pig sculpture wearing a top hat, and urns overflowing with hydrangeas. It was a chaotic mishmash of decades and themes forming one gloriously decadent backdrop for a collection of the most exuberantly romantic dresses in Paris.

Galliano excels at bias cuts and the ability to stitch longing and melancholy into a floor-sweeping gown. A navy dress thick with layers of silk had a pleated collar that wrapped around the shoulders like an elaborate cape. A tailored evening coat with fur lapels was appliqued with oversize flowers along the hem.

Galliano understands fashion's ability to transport a woman to a place of fanciful indulgence. While other designers use hocus-pocus to deliver a woman to a place of brooding contemplation, Galliano believes in taking her into a fantasy she never knew her imagination could conjure.

Lanvin

While Galliano weaves blissfully impossible dreams, designer Alber Elbaz creates dark, passionate visions that are all the more enticing because they seem possible. He focused on the roots of the Lanvin label and incorporated oversize sleeves, exaggerated tucks, paper-bag waists and lush collars that gently brush the cheeks like soft petals.

Elbaz can make a woman believe that it is possible and natural to move through her day dressed in a violet silk sheath with self-conscious seams and articulated hips. He evokes a flower in the silhouette and drape of a dress, but he does not turn a woman into a Jeff Koons sculpture. Elbaz's fabrics caress the body. His exaggerated back seams ripple down the spine like a waterfall of silk.

The collection that Elbaz presented Sunday evening was not filled with frothy, girlish glee. It was more complex than that and more subtle. There was some surface decoration, but merely jet beads or tarnished crystals. Like a vintage red wine that has to be decanted, these clothes are meant to last and be savored. They'll get better with each wearing as their ease, versatility and sophistication become more apparent.

So much of what has been presented on the runway this season was meant for immediate consumption and quick obsolescence. Elbaz created a collection that is good now, but will only get better.