Following the appointment of Bouchra Jarrar as the new womenswear artistic director, and Lucas Ossendrijver celebrating his tenth anniversary on the men's side, it is no surprise that all eyes were on Lanvin's men's show today. Jarrar sat front row with her family, eager to show her support, in another change in venue, this time in the cavernous industrial contemporary-art mecca Palais de Tokyo.
In her own fashionable way, Sacai's Chitose Abe sought to bring love and joy to the world — a "horrowshow" — for spring. She colorized military items — boiler suit, MA1 jacket — in bright pink, stitched pineapple motifs into mohair sweaters, modernized Mexican ponchos, joined Afghan detailing and British paisley, and applied clusters of slogan-less velvet pins to jackets.
As far as I know, the first and last time a fashion show doubled as a wedding ceremony was back in 2011 at Imitation of Christ in New York, when Tara Subkoff orchestrated a wedding between Lydia Hearst and actor Miles Fischer, which turned out to be a fake.
Translating Ann Demeulemeester's dark and poetic message for a new generation is Sébastien Meunier's task at the house the cult namesake designer left two years ago.
Winning the award for most lo-fi invitation of the season, with what looked like a badly transmitted fax on slippery thermal paper, Rei Kawakubo, founder and head of Comme des Garçons was firing shots. In an unusually vocal collection, loaded with phrases such as ‘The King is Naked Shout Out Aloud’, ‘It’s My Fashion,’ and ‘Pride Before the Fall’ she utilized the moral of Hans Christian Andersen’s cautionary tale The Emperor’s New Clothes.
This morning was decidedly odd for an Englishman in Paris, as it was for the entire UK contingency, who all sat dumfounded after the announcement that the UK had voted to leave the EU. We half expected to be frog-marched to the Eurostar this morning. Instead, we became incredibly apologetic (typically English) and tried to comprehend just who had voted to leave. It was under this cloud of political turmoil that we found ourselves by the Seine at the Cité de la Mode et du Design, in the graffiti-walled underpass, waiting for the Junya Watanabe show to start.
Just like with his women's line, Haider Ackermann has carved a niche for himself in menswear, a territory of luxurious, slouchy, kimono-influenced tailoring with nods to sportswear and an obsession with sloping shoulders and bare ankles.
The staff at Yohji wore the best uniform today, a long line (black of course) shirt split up the sides with the brand name emblazoned on the back and the show date and address. They were perfect Yamamoto, a wry take on modern fashion times.
The hand-cast invitation, a slab of plaster, was quickly understood at show's start. The first few exits looked as though they were made of raw canvas, especially look 8, which resembled a modernized painting smock used in an art studio.