shion & Style
Fashion Review
In Paris, Sensuality Saves the Day
From left: a sleeveless leather T-shirts at Raf Simons; bird of paradise prints on shirts and skirts at Givenchy; a checked coat over a long pink shirt at Comme des Garçons.
By CATHY HORYN
Published: June 29, 2011
PARIS — MAYBE it’s too many hours on Twitter that causes people to reduce fashion shows to a check-off list of essentials, but whatever it is, writers at the spring men’s collections here were ticking the appropriate boxes: globalism, gender games, the new sobriety.
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On the Runway Blog: Paris Men’s: Peeling Down for Spring (June 26, 2011)
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On the Runway Blog: Model Casting (June 28, 2011)
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On the Runway Blog: Thom Browne at Maxim's (June 28, 2011)
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On the Runway Blog: The Paul Smith Show (June 28, 2011)
Kristy Sparow/Getty Images
TROPICAL A mint suit and matching sandals by Riccardo Tisci for Givenchy's spring 2012 collection.
Valerio Mezzanotti for The New York Times
A Roland Mouret blazer and full trousers.
A youthful Vuitton jacket and shorts.
Valerio Mezzanotti for The New York Times
A sharp Saint Laurent blazer and trim trousers.
Valerio Mezzanotti for The New York Times
Nonchalant Hermès short shorts and turtleneck.
Valerio Mezzanotti for The New York Times
Lanvin military-look jacket over tie-dyed leggings.
This approach doesn’t seek to explore fuzzier sensibilities, or even brewing passions, so much as it surrounds them with a garnish, something that any good host knows to do when the plate looks bare. A few collections did seem ruggedly global in their cultural reach. In his debut as the new men’s designer at Louis Vuitton, Kim Jones mixed classic travel gear with Masai checks and khaki inspired in part by his own African boyhood.
But it’s a given that King Louis is a global entity. More relevant is that Mr. Jones’s relaxed suits and blazers, with their Dartmouth-to-Wall-Street assurance, give a new younger look to the brand — an attitude compatible with Marc Jacobs’s image for the Vuitton women’s collections. The change is meaningful for another reason: though Vuitton is known for bags, clothing and shoes now amount to a significant business.
In most cases, though, globalism was a familiar posture, as with Ann Demeulemeester’s romantic-looking coats, chiffon tunics and broken-down boots, seemingly the last remnants of a formal dinner party in a European enclave in North Africa.
Stefano Pilati of Yves Saint Laurent also alluded to that part of the world, translating the iconic YSL Sahara tunic into laced khaki jackets and shorts. I was more impressed by the suits and coats that opened his show; in a warm shade of navy, with tan shirts or knits, the tailoring looked sharp and contemporary. This was Mr. Pilati’s best men’s show in a while.
But in a way he missed the boat. Saint Laurent was the ultimate sensualist, and if there was one thing the top collections — Givenchy and Comme des Garçons, to my mind — had over the rest, it was their gorgeous blast of sensuality.
Though Rei Kawakubo, the genius of Comme des Garçons, and Riccardo Tisci of Givenchy had skirts in their shows, neither was really playing a gender game. (Both have stuck skirts or dresses in their men’s shows plenty of times.) The key element in Ms. Kawakubo’s collection was the amount of pink, the color of pleasure and sexual arousal. I had the feeling she was using her many tailored jackets and coats (in jacquards and printed checks) less as a masculine foil for pink shirtdresses than as a way to heighten the sensual. You’d have to be a monk not to recognize what the slits in the front of jackets signified, with lining bubbling inside the raw openings.
I thought it was also interesting that Ms. Kawakubo didn’t take the clothes over the edge; for the most part, they were very wearable.
At Givenchy, the feeling of sensuality came from the absurdly wacky bird of paradise prints that appeared on crisp T-shirts, skirts and trousers, and that for evening were glazed with sequins. Against the white and mint backgrounds of suits, which also came in solid hues, the tropical pinks and greens were just irresistible.
I haven’t been a fan of Mr. Tisci’s men’s collections mainly because, in their mixture of religious symbolism and post-punk rage, they project a fake aggression. (I have a hard time buying that pose from a luxury label.) But this time the clothes celebrated life.
With the passage in New York of the marriage equality bill, sensuality seems a particularly valid form. Roland Mouret’s pleated twill trousers and safari jackets in dusk shades of blue, tan and marigold also captured a desire for pleasure, if more subtly.
Unlike Ms. Kawakubo’s generation of entrepreneurs, who were free to be wildly inventive because they figured they had nothing to lose, the current generation of stars typically work for big luxury groups. And, as Loïc Prigent, a French journalist and documentary filmmaker, said, “They’re all about playing by the rules.” Androgyny and adolescent anger feel tapped out, and with more luxury houses now going after babies and children, the next generation is not likely to know any different. Sensuality isn’t a radical choice, but it might just make you feel good.
Raf Simons has been one of fashion’s most effective translators of youth, contemporary art and fashion history. This season he stripped everything down because, he said, “It feels not modern in my own brand to have too much design.” The tiny gold chain that outlined the soles of black lace-ups was as elaborate as things got. Still, the hard-edged attitude of leather T-shirts in turquoise and tangerine, the skinny black pants and loose plaid nylon coats looked polished. As accessible as this collection is, it’s clearly not without new ideas, like those diagonal plaids in unexpected Easter pastels.
At Hermès, Véronique Nichanian was also in a cooler mood, with less color and fewer prints than usual. What registered was a casual detachment from luxury’s rules; she, too, did not have an excess of stuff. Yet you couldn’t get more chic and sexy than a pair of slim shorts with a turtleneck.
I was a little bored with Dries Van Noten’s show: too many dark, high-tech-looking rain fabrics that seemed uncharacteristic of him. As for Lanvin, it fell confidently between the sensual and the sober, with commando looks that gradually gave way to soft, eclectic pieces like striped pajama pants and tie-dyed leggings.
Thom Browne seems determined to be the last fashion freak standing. He took over musty Maxim’s and played Piaf as the guys came out in Weimar-meets-Wall-Street drag. His gaudily fringed clothes suggest a passion, but for some reason I rarely leave his shows knowing more than when I went in.
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