PARIS — As the fall 2016 collections wrapped up here, designers made clear what they are hoping shoppers will buy next season. But only a few tried to articulate new ways of thinking about beauty, power and status — which gets to the heart of why we buy anything at all.
Instead, they made declarations about trends and styling to editors and retailers who had just had their body scanned and their bags inspected to see their collections. The security, in the wake of the November terrorists attacks, served as a reminder that fashion shows may be filled with champagne toasts, dainty hors d’oeuvres and overdressed women, but fashion itself — Chanel, Dior, Givenchy, Balenciaga, Saint Laurent, Hermès, Louis Vuitton — is serious business, part of the cultural identity of France and the personal identity for much of the world. I shop for luxury goods; therefore I am.
Designers invited guests into dark grottoes, empty lofts, 17th century mansions, opera houses, hotel ballrooms and hotel particuliers. They even dropped guests into a wood-walled maze that had them wishing for a trail of bread crumbs to guide them to their seat.
If the shows are a fair indication of what retailers will stock in the fall, consumers will find a glut of leopard print and snakeskin. There will, infact, be all sorts of prints, ranging from Egyptian references at Givenchy to swans at Stella McCartney.
Shoes will be covered in fur, and eventually you will stop thinking that they look like bedroom slippers, or at least cease to care. Platforms once again will be in vogue, which doesn’t really matter because most women never stopped wearing them in the first place. And there will be lug-soled boots and shoes to wear with everything.
Skirts are pleated and mostly long, except when they are short, and then they are very short and unforgiving. Dresses are deliberately big and a little dowdy, so you’ll probably want to stick with skirts. If you venture to trousers, they will be oversized and, at Céline, were shown dragging across the floor in a manner that will make a dry cleaner smirk in anticipation. Sweaters and shirts will be oversized, too, and so will your coat. There are also bomber jackets and puffer coats galore — and most of them are quite enticing. In particular, there are excellent feather-free velvet parkas from Stella McCartney that could go to a formal dinner and easily fit in with all the cashmere and fur.
If you should decide that a blazer is your thing, consumers have been instructed by the likes of Balenciaga and Off-White to wear it with one half yanked off your shoulder like you just barely escaped a mugging. Your lipstick is likely to be nearly black, by the way, which will make you look as though you did not escape a mugging but rather stood your ground and lost the fight.
The contorting of frocks is one of the most notable developments to emerge as a trend over nine days of fashion shows. It’s part of a broader argument against fashion as a rarefied craft. The designers who espouse it are not creating stodgy, old-fashioned clothes. Instead, they are applying all the techniques of the past to the silhouettes of today. Many of these design houses, such as Givenchy, Saint Laurent, Miu Miu and Chanel, mounted runway productions that put viewers as close as possible — front row for all — to the clothes. The point was not just to get a whiff of an idea but to really lean in and inhale deeply. The details mattered more than the silhouettes.
And, in fact, it is something to see one of these collections from only a few feet away. No matter how one might feel about the aesthetics of the clothes — the shapes, the colors, the length of a hemline — the undeniable fact is that they are crafted with breathtaking skill. The technique may not fully account for why these clothes are so expensive, but they surely explain why they are of greater worth than something churned out by the thousands-a-day.
Miu Miu, the collection designed by Miuccia Prada, was an extravagance of fur-trimmed coats, denim and velvet, and brocade coats — many of them bejeweled. It was a collection of eccentric strokes and jarring combinations, but it also looked rich. Each piece had its own little bit of magic.
At Valentino, designers Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaolo Piccioli offered up pretentious, long-winded show notes promising “emotional tangibility,” which sounded ponderous and dreadful. But then, they showed an elegant ode to dance.
A single pianist provided the soundtrack, the music crescendoing as the collection became more lavish and exuberant, the music drifting into sweet pianissimo when the garments were their most fragile. There were tulle skirts and feathered dresses that recalled “Swan Lake” and ankle-grazing, body-conscious dresses that evoked Martha Graham. The leggings and oversize coats resembled the going-to-studio style of off-duty dancers.
These were clothes worth taking the time to study. They were familiar and inspiring.
The conversation about when to show a collection and when that collection should be available to consumers traveled over from New York, where it was Topic A during that city’s fashion show season last month. Some designers, such as the team at Courrèges — Sébastien Meyer and Arnaud Valiant — have decided consumers should not have to wait, and their show was filled with items immediately available. Their collection consisted of separates in a variety of colors and fabrics, each strutted past the audience like a conveyor belt of bonbons ready for the plucking.
Who wouldn’t want one of Courrèges’s overcoats with a built-in body warmer that activates with a push of a button on the sleeve or a colorful parka?
Courrèges ignores the fact that the French have, as an industry, voted to make the customer wait. French fashion is worth your patience, they say.
At Givenchy, designer Riccardo Tisci gave his audience a cacophonous melange of Egyptian-inspired prints, snakeskin and leopard spots. The many patterns and textures gave the eyes no respite, leaving one dizzy and exhausted.
Louis Vuitton’s Nicolas Ghesquière, however, got the balance right. On the final, dreariest day of fashion shows here, rain blew sideways and the pathways to his black tents, on the grounds of the Fondation Louis Vuitton in the Bois du Boulogne, had turned to gloppy rivers of mud. But Ghesquière’s collection sparked with color. He stitched up color-blocked sweaters and dresses, molded peplums and brightly colored leathers.
Other houses were more focused on suggesting authenticity — which in fashion means street style, quotidian style. Designers such as Vetements’ Demna Gvasalia, who showed his debut collection at Balenciaga, bring a sense of preciousness to the banal. In doing so, they eschew the traditional rules of fashion and what we value. Good for them.
This was a season when a host of trends bubbled up. The greater challenge is nudging us to think about what it is that we really want. That didn’t happen, but a few designers here at least provided a few answers to consider.
