Pursuit of Happiness
Lanvin Leads the Paris Runways By Embracing What Women Want

By Robin Givhan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, October 7, 2008

PARIS, Oct. 6

It's dangerous to speak in absolutes, particularly in the fickle fashion business. But it would seem stingy, even churlish, not to state the obvious, even at the risk of sounding like the hyperbolic fashion editor who cried "Think pink!" in "Funny Face."

The best clothes in Paris this season -- the absolute best -- were created by designer Alber Elbaz at Lanvin.

The proof is not just on the runway, where for spring 2009 he offered an elegant fantasy of feminine, sexy and accessible clothes in a sophisticated palette, but also in the influence his work has had in the industry and on the company's bottom line. Any woman enthralled by the dazzling costume jewelry now in stores or happy that ballet flats have become chic or who recently purchased a blouse embellished with a grosgrain ribbon has Elbaz to thank.

And despite the sky-high cost of his clothes, they are selling. It is virtually impossible to find any garment in the company's multistory Paris flagship for less than $1,800 -- and that includes a relatively simple silk, pleated sleeveless T-shirt. And yet, the customers come. During a visit last week, a woman in a modest head-covering spoke frantically on her green jeweled cellphone about purchasing some frock in her sightline. A young woman, settled onto a sofa in another corner of the store, adamantly pointed to a picture of a blouse she'd pulled from some magazine and demanded that her salesman trot it out to her. The poor fellow had the unenviable job of explaining that he didn't have it.

The privately held company was founded in 1889 by Jeanne Lanvin, who was first a milliner and later designed children's clothes. Since 2001, when Elbaz arrived, the house has been on a mission of revival. It settled into the black last year for the first time in a decade, according to Women's Wear Daily. It is now valued at close to $220 million, and the majority of its revenue is derived from men's and women's ready-to-wear, with about 27 percent from accessories. Exquisite clothes, no matter how expensive, will sell.

What distinguishes Elbaz's work at Lanvin is that his point of view is not predicated on gimmicks, stuffy intellectualism or extravagant flourishes. The clothes Elbaz showed Sunday night, as the spring 2009 collections came to a close, had all of the signature markings of his work. There were visible zippers, silhouettes that gently followed the body, soft ruffles and sophisticated ease. But Elbaz showed off his confidence and eccentric sense of color, mixing raspberry and aubergine or blush and mango. His lean trousers sat high on the waist but were balanced by a voluminous blouse that rose high on the collarbone to subtly frame the face. He introduced prints and played with texture.

The models strode confidently on high, bejeweled and crystal-studded heels that were so tantalizing one wanted to reprimand Elbaz for such a torturous temptation when everyone should be concerned about excessive spending. Damn you, Elbaz!

The designer might find the inspiration for his color palette in exotic locales or be mesmerized by the soigne movements of a dancer. But all of that is tempered in a collection whose sole purpose is to make women happy. It is, perhaps, the most daunting task any designer could willingly embrace.

John Galliano, Chanel

Other designers this season have placed themselves in service to the customer. John Galliano, in a collection shown Saturday, offered a reminder that if one can look beyond his finger-paint makeup, Crayola-colored wigs and Bo-Peep bonnets, one will see a master of poetic dresses.

While Elbaz injects power into his ruffles and gathers, Galliano creates dresses that speak as emotionally as an abstract painting. He understands the melancholy in the perfect shade of dusty rose or yellow. He can calibrate the excitement stirred up by a dress that falls off the shoulders . . . just so. His watercolor gowns vibrate with energy without a single geegaw or tchotchke.

Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel spoke to customers using the brand's basics: hues of black and white, camellias, chains, pearls and tweeds. Against a stage set that duplicated the facade of the company's Paris flagship, Lagerfeld evoked the history of Chanel, but in a way that situated it perfectly in the present. From his gray and white sparkling suits to his black lace gypsy skirts, the collection distilled the Chanel of the fashion imagination into chic clothes.

These designers have created garments that tickle a woman's imagination and make her think of dressing as a joy -- a true feat. It's much easier to define oneself as a designer by challenging a woman's definition of beauty or the prevailing dictates of the fashion industry. It's easier to concern oneself with social statements and the visionary ideal.

Alexander McQueen, Yves Saint Laurent

Alexander McQueen struck an uneasy compromise between his skill as a dressmaker and tailor, and a personality that is drawn to provocation. He was inspired by environmentalism, endangered species and Darwinism. On Friday, he divided his collection in two parts: One celebrated nature, and one expressed concern and distaste at the impact of the Industrial Revolution.

The most moving garments were those that honored nature, particularly two dresses constructed of sheer layers of fabric that housed pressed flowers. The second half of the presentation was dominated by graphic, abstract prints with silhouettes that hugged the body and had more aggressive and jarring lines and angles.

McQueen's presentation -- against a backdrop of taxidermic polar bears, leopards and tigers and a giant spinning globe -- offered an admirable, cautionary statement about the environment. One only wished that the clothes, particularly in the second half of the show, were as memorable as his message.

Designer Stefano Pilati at Yves Saint Laurent is wholly in service to aesthetics. Women? They are welcome to come along for the ride, but he's not making any detours to please them.

He showed a collection on Thursday that was a roller coaster of elegantly tailored jackets cut from fabric with a shadowy teardrop pattern, innovative graphic pumps, a glorious strapless white evening gown with origami folds and then baffling dropped crotch shorts. Then down, down, down to absurd gowns with hemlines stitched shut, making it look as though the model's feet were protruding from holes in the bottom of a sack. The design philosophy on this point comes across as selfish. The look isn't flattering. It prevents a woman from crossing her legs. It makes a trip to the bathroom torturously complicated. Retailers intent on having one of these gowns on their racks might request that they be delivered without the bonus seam. They'd be fools not to. So what is the point of showing them that way on the runway, other than to announce one's belief that the integrity of the design is more important than the woman who might wear it?

This city gives its designers license to play out their aesthetic fantasies. But with that freedom comes responsibility. The needs of women cannot be entirely dismissed. Their dignity is not to be toyed with. And make no mistake, female designers have the same capacity as their male counterparts to stitch up devastatingly undignified frocks.

Stella McCartney, Rue du Mail, Louis Vuitton, Chloe

Consider the contrast between designers Stella McCartney and Martine Sitbon and the new designer at Chloe. McCartney's runway presentations often fall a bit flat because the work she puts on her models is so reasonable and wearable. The collection she showed Thursday was filled with needlepoint dresses in pale pink and loosefitting sweaters worn over sparkly slips. She understands how much the average woman is willing to reveal before she starts to worry other women are talking trash about her behind her back.

Sitbon, designing the Rue du Mail collection, knows how to appeal to a woman's desire to be cool. Her black legging-like trousers paired with a fitted black blazer gave the model a sly, feline look. And her collage dresses in pale shades of peach and gray called to mind work that had been on the Balenciaga runway as well as a host of others. But her version was lighter, less tightfitting and ultimately less aggressive. And it reflected a jigsaw puzzle aesthetic that has been one of the dominant themes -- aside from references to Africa and the American West -- in this city.

Marc Jacobs at Louis Vuitton offered a mishmash collection of wide-shoulder jackets in a collision of color swatches and textures, paired with miniskirts that glittered with jewels and teased the eye with peekaboo cutouts.

His references careened from one continent to another, one decade to another. It was as if Jacobs had spent an afternoon Googling whatever notion popped into his head and there on the Vuitton runway Sunday was the result: sometimes dynamic and inspiring, sometimes absurd.

All the while, Edith Piaf wailed on his soundtrack; the models' hair was tied up with the kind of wraps used on a horse's tail; Lenny Kravitz snapped pictures from the front row; and Paris's top luxury magnate, Bernard Arnault, of the house's parent company LVMH Moet Hennessy Louis Vuitton, wore an inscrutable smile. The collision of ideas on the runway reflected the collision of history, artistry, hype and money in the audience.

Designer Hannah MacGibbon, who showed her first collection for Chloe -- where McCartney made her name -- dressed models in scallop-edged jackets and shirts that made them look like a prehistoric centaur: half woman and half brontosaurus.

But the most egregious garment on the runway, perhaps on all the runways this season, was a pair of metallic, high-waisted, copper balloon pants. They prompted one editor to note that the answer to that paranoid question -- Do these make my bum look big? -- would be: No, they make it look enormous.

Valentino, Miu Miu

Designer Alessandra Facchinetti committed a few misdemeanors on the Valentino runway Friday. And she was punished harshly. She was fired. What was so heinous? Her tendency to over-design. Simple silk dresses with an elegant silhouette were weighed down with spangled braiding at the shoulders or along the neckline, plus beaded fingerless gloves, more beading, more braids, more ugh.

The end came after only two seasons. The company said Facchinetti's dismissal resulted from a "misaligned vision with the company." In her place, executives promoted the accessory designers: Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pier Paolo Piccioli, who had worked with the company founder, now retired. (Deja vu: While at Gucci, Facchinetti was fired and replaced by accessory designer Frida Giannini in 2005.) Facchinetti accused the company of being unprofessional for announcing her departure in the press before bothering to mention it to her.

The shows here ended with Miuccia Prada's Miu Miu presentation Sunday night in the rooms of a gilded mansion on Avenue Foch. Prada may be the closest thing that the Paris shows have to a feminist. Her collections always seem to be a political reprimand -- even if it is merely a reaction against the constraints of a pencil skirt.

Her spring collection blended the silky elegance of satin with fabric that had all of the humility and simplicity of a potato sack. She graffitied the sad, brown fabric with slashes of red or black. She paired her skirts with tattered satin bodices in shades such as fuchsia. Then she wrapped it all with a pleated apron -- in navy crepe, perhaps -- and called it a dress.

Sometimes it was unflattering and bulky around a model's body. At other times it was daring and pleasing to the eye and made one rethink the juxtaposition of high style with low, of expensive fabrics with throwaway materials.

She completed the collection with a series of mosaic prints on sheaths that were repeated on wedge heels. It was the right kind of collection for Paris -- intriguing, even startling. But it also managed to do right by women.