Anne Valerie Hash
Having arrived on the Paris couture schedule seven years ago with an
enchanting display of “unfinished” clothes in which the models looked liked
Cinderella at five seconds past midnight, Anne Valerie Hash is on a
brand-building journey. No one can afford to exist purely on an artsy,
insider plateau just now. So Hash is becoming a fixture on the ready-to-wear
calendar and sells to 120 stores across the world, including Liberty in
London. Which is perhaps why her PRs whisked a few journalists from their
seats for a quick preview backstage, to prove that those semi-translucent
sparkly jumpers that Hash layered under spaghetti strap ruffled slip dresses
and the oatmeal coloured slim, flat-fronted trousers in a linen-tweed mix
worked as well in reality as they did on the catwalk.
Hash's tailoring on wool jackets and coats was quietly interesting, and while
some of the calf-length dresses, gathered at the hips, looked faintly
frumpy, items such as a gunmetal satin shift dress, a leather pencil skirt
in a scuffed, pale gold should ensure that there's enough to keep both old
and new fans happy. Not that it's easy to second-guess retail success. “We
keep putting really wearable pieces into the collection,” Hash told me, “and
then it's things like a long iridescent tulle dress with Chinese lantern
trim that sell.”
Rue du Mail
Next winter's ubiquitous strapless wool corset dress over a fine-weave jumper
made its appearance pretty early on in this show, but because the designer,
Martine Sitbon, is a hard worker, the dress came with a skirt that was part
ginormous bow and part crescent moon. And that, in a nutshell (if you
squinted at it from some angles, it looked like one of those, too), was the
problem.
Perhaps there was too much glitz or the fabrics were too heavy - less is
definitely more when it comes to felted wools and mohair knits. So when a
cream coat with a fluted hem appeared over a cream jacket over shiny
metallic leggings, that was already quite a lot to take on board. Chuck in
some kind of scarf thing and big, puffy shoulders on the coat and the eye
doesn't know where to look.
That was one of the more pared-down outfits. Sitbon's at her best when she
sets out to provide that deceptively easy Parisian loucheness. There were
traces of it - such as the black, strapless, silk zippered minidress with a
black sequined waistcoat belted over the top, or silver leather hotpants
over pale grey tights - but too much looked tortured.
Part of Sitbon's charm is that her sophisticated ideas are executed with a
slightly naïve clunkiness. But this season that clunkiness misfired, often
collapsing into clumsiness.
Balenciaga
It's possible that some people haven't heard about the recession. Or maybe
they've heard, but they're darned if they're going down wearing dreary old
felt. In which case, they'd better get their people to call Balenciaga RIGHT
NOW, because if Balmain's £1,000 jeans are anything to go by (they sold out
almost as soon as they hit the rails this winter), there's probably a
waiting list for the stunning, draped, crystal-studded dresses that opened
yesterday's show already.
This was opulence of a grand order as the label forsook its normal minimalist
venue for an enfilade of gilded rooms at the Hôtel de Crillon.
There's a kind of heroic, “dancing on the deck of the Titanic” stoicism in
such a degree of splendour at this juncture. Or perhaps it's just Bonfire of
the Vanities all over again. The Eighties have been breaking out all over
the place, but generally the focus is on mid-Eighties leggings and oversized
tops rather than the end of the decade. But from the puff-shouldered printed
dresses with split-tulip hems to the beautiful black tuxedo jackets with
draped satin peplums, designer Nicolas Ghesquière offered something to which
Tom Wolfe's X-rays could relate.
Alas, hardly anyone apart from the certifiable fashion-fruitloop will begin to
tackle those silk, panniered harem trousers or peach satin drop-waisted
tulip skirts, but as an exercise in ideas pushed to extremes (that everyone
else will copy) it was brilliant.
Balmain
Is Paris big enough for both Balmain's Christophe Decarnin and Balenciaga's
Nicolas Ghesquière when the catwalk isn't even big enough for two Balmain
models to pass each other without gridlocking?
It's all down to those exaggerated pagoda shoulders - again. Having produced
what has proved to be the most influential collection in fashion last
season, perhaps it's harsh to blame Decarnin for inserting his trusty
shoulder pads into just about anything that moved - silk blouses,
crystal-studded jackets, chain-mail dresses slashed to the navel. The only
time he didn't resort to The Shoulder was in those teeny strapless dresses
and chain-mail harem pants. It was all about shorter, tighter, shinier - as
uncomplicated, bombastic and momentarily convincing as a Donna Summers
anthem. He's not afraid of a bit of repetition, either - the beaded green
minidress that Jennifer Connelly wore recently to a premiere popped up again
in blue.
Clearly Decarnin knows how to sell : minus the enormous shoulder pads, this
will be retailer heaven, with lots of commercial, (albeit crazily expensive)
pieces including tasty crystal-splattered white jackets and a fabulous,
beaded, stripy Breton T-shirt worn with cropped drainpipes and sparkly court
shoes. Whether this collection was enough to cement his reputation as a
serious agenda setter is another question. If you want to wear Balmain while
it's still hot, purchase immediately. Alternatively, save your money and buy
shares in Swarovski.
Gareth Pugh
Click
here to see a trailer of the Gareth Pugh show
Circumstances being what they are, Gareth Pugh's normal catwalk extravaganza
was this season condensed into an eight-minute video that featured a single
model, a lot of CGI (sometimes there were four of her) and, in an
endearingly Heath Robinson-esque touch, a carpet cleaner that blew mighty
gusts of wind into the guts of the clothes.
Replacing live fashion shows with film generally results in a sterile cop-out.
But this worked. Pugh's clothes - immense carapaces, often inflatable or
studded with spikes and fur - have always been impressive on the catwalk,
but the combination of wind and movement transformed them into a little
piece of performance. That worked too, because presenting retailers with a
neat capsule collection for Everywoman is self-evidently not the name of
Pugh's game. That said, his clothes do have a niche following (Kylie wears
him on tour and so does Ken, as in Barbie).
The triangle shape that so fascinates him (huge American-footballer shoulders,
skinny lower half) was turned upside down, so that instead of ressembling an
aggressor-warrior, the model looked more like someone wrapping herself in
protective blanket, albeit one made of barbed wire.
That's when she didn't look like a bird, a bat, a kinetic show poodle (those
wader boots with their snub toes and wide cuffs did something canine to her
feet) or a fleeting figure from Kurosawa's Ran.
Ironically, although this was unashamedly art as fashion, closer inspection
turned up clothes - impressive metallic leather duvet coats, cloaks and
jackets - that could be commercial winners and are almost bound to be
reproduced in diluted high street versions. You can just picture them in
Uniqlo, the Japanese chain that does a nice line in colouful outerwear, next
winter. Actually, he did design a T-shirt for Uniqlo once. It's about time
they signed up for those coats. See the full video at ShowStudio.com
