I am sitting here trying hard to imagine how it would feel should scores of
designers, a mob of retailers and half the British high street ever decide
to appropriate my personal style and sell it on to the masses. The first
hurdle in this creative visualisation is that I’m finding it tricky to
pinpoint what my style is.
Oddly, Carine Roitfeld says that this has been her problem, too. “It’s true.
Designers have told me that their collections are so me,” she says
disarmingly when I call her at her office in Paris, “but I don’t always
recognise it because if you ask me what my style is, I’m really not that
sure.” Really? “Really. It wasn’t until I started to work for Gucci in the
Nineties that it started to become clear to me. And that’s because Tom Ford
was pushing me to do the dark eye make-up, to wear high heels and to keep
things very simple and lean.”
The difference between Roitfeld’s late epiphany and my style adjustments is
that no one has ever, to my knowledge, copied my style, whereas fashion is
definitely doing a Carine this season. “Good,” she says. “It will help me
with my shopping, because sometimes it’s only when you see a new
interpretation that you recognise what you are.”
Unless you are a high court judge or, perish the thought, an infrequent
visitor to these pages, you will know that Roitfeld is the Editor of French Vogue,
a magazine so fashion-y that it still features pregnant women smoking
cigarettes in its shoots. Actually it wasn’t a real pregnant woman. It was a
model, Lily Donaldson, wearing a prosthetic bump. But the message was almost
as confrontational as if she had been Madonna with child (Christ, not
Lourdes or Rocco, that is) — ie, let them smoke fags. If French Vogue
were a person it would be Marie Antoinette. And if Roitfeld were a magazine
she would be, well, French Vogue, so closely does it embody her sense
of chic.
Notwithstanding the loftiness of Roitfeld’s perch, it is unusual for a
magazine editor’s personal style to exert so much influence over fashion.
Yet exerted it has been. It is not merely a case of the designers whom
Roitfeld has championed personally — Christophe Decarnin at Balmain, for
instance, or Riccardo Tisci at Givenchy — paying tribute to her
distinctively angular, tailored aesthetic, although they have. Other
designers, some unexpectedly, have fallen into line, too. Donna Karan has
the skinny pencil skirts and mannish jackets. Derek Lam has the impeccable
oversized, tailored camel coats. Sophia Kokosalaki, Jil Sander and Bottega
Veneta have the fitted shift dresses. Ferré, Preen, Loewe, Burberry Prorsum,
Fendi and Jason Wu have done the shaggy, big — and I mean big, so out of my
way — coats. It almost goes without saying that they are all pushing big
shoulders and a whole lot of black.
Then there is the British high street. From Oasis’s fitted dresses and Mango’s
outlandish furry coats to Topshop’s leather jackets and Miss Selfridge’s
strong-shouldered blazer, white shirts and leather leggings, they are all
referencing her. Even M&S is at it, juxtaposing sequins, leather and
Roitfeld’s trademark smoky eyes as if to le manoir born.
“It is a bit Carine, now you mention it,” says Neil Hendy, the head of
womenswear, of the pictures that M&S shot of its Limited Collection.
“But that’s a huge compliment to us. I don’t think any of us consciously set
out to imitate her, but there is definitely something of her there — the way
she looks thrown-together, yet always with an überchic, simple edge and the
smudgy eye make-up.”(She achieves the überchic, by the way, with frequent
trips to what she calls her “retoucher” — “Everything I have I take to be
altered because nothing is perfect or exactly the right length”.) No one
seems at all worried about whether they have been brazenly copying or
subconsciously touched by the muse. “We’re just thrilled if people think
that our winter collection reflects the French Vogue vibe,” says
Nadia Jones, the creative director at Oasis. “It’s one of the design team’s
favourite magazines and I love that idea of making everything look übercool
and inspirational, yet accessible at the same time.”
At the pricier end of the high street, the freshly revamped Reiss and Joseph
collections are all the better for taking lessons from Roitfeld’s signatures
— impeccable tailoring, unexpected shots of animal print and accessories
that shout (a hoarse, Gallic shout) this season. Incidentally,
Ornella Papagianni from Joseph recommends finishing off the look with high
ankle boots “for that French take on rock’n’roll that Carine does so well”.
It has been a while since fashion accorded one woman such slavish attention.
Sienna Miller (in the summer of 1995) and before that, Kate Moss, both had
moments — or, in Moss’s case, decades — but generally, although plenty of
famous women can sell a specific bag or dress, hardly any has a style that
can easily be imitated yet is strong enough to spawn an army of acolytes.
On the face of things, Roitfeld is uncompromisingly haute in her approach to
fashion. She also happens to be 55, thin as whipcord but not of the age —
these days — when fashion icons are born. Yet, as the hundreds of devotees
who regularly take time to study her latest decision on collars (turned up
or not turned up?) or sleeves (pushed up or not pushed up?) and post
detailed analysis on the blogspot The Sartorialist prove,
fashion-forwardness is no longer confined to a few students. It may also be
that the high street’s embrace of Roitfeld’s style credo (extreme yet
classic, body-conscious yet not slutty) represents a riposte to the hitherto
relentless march of celebrity fashion.
The other salient aspect of that style is that,notwithstanding the statement
coats, dangerous shoes and distinctive curtain of Iggy Pop hair, it is based
on the eternal staples of a Frenchwoman’s arsenal. “I really don’t have that
many clothes,” she tells me. I even believe her. Because when a woman has a
good eye for what makes a perfect coat (a belt, apparently), skirt (slim and
just on the knee) and so on, she can rework them endlessly with
of-the-moment accessories. As Averyl Oates, buying director at Harvey
Nichols, says: “Carine has an amazing eye for putting together a look that
is both interesting and forward-thinking.” Oates thinks that it’s the way
Roitfeld mixes demure, grown-up pieces with aggressive high-fashion
statements, some of which verge on the risqué — such as her bondage shoes,
animal prints and love of fur — that has had the biggest impact on fashion.
“The styling of many winter shows mimicks that edgy, chic glamour that she
is famous for. But then, she is one of the most closely watched women in the
front row.” Nor does Oates think that Roitfeld style is just for the skinny:
“It’s about heritage, luxury and simplicity.”
Roitfeld is blissfully untroubled at the prospect of being surrounded by
mini-mes: “It’s flattering and it helps me to reassess my style.”
For the record, this season she is hankering after a black, belted, slightly
military coat, just below the knee; a black cape — “not too fantastical”;
and a velvet pencil skirt (“always on the knee, no one has ever designed the
perfect velvet pencil skirt”). She has re-embraced handbags, the leather
industry will be relieved to hear (last year she gave an interview in which
she declared bags unchic), will never forsake bondage shoes but had moved on
from the big, shaggy fur coat that she has worn in the past 12 months. Yup,
the one that has been copied endlessly and will soon be in a shop near you.
Fashion’s tough.
Your Comments
Order By: