At Paris Fashion Week, A Tale Of Two Extremes

The year was 1967. The idea of pret-a-porter was still a novel one and it was revolutionising the way women shopped and dressed. In response, the Maison Dior had just launched its Miss Dior ready-to-wear line. For her latest collection, Maria Grazia Chiuri referenced that era’s aesthetic, if not its revolutionary spirit.

Like Demna and Hedi Slimane, Chiuri is a designer who doesn’t waver when it comes to her vision for how women should dress. Her brand of femininity is always rooted in a classical kind of elegance, flattering and forgiving. 

Still, there were infinitesimal changes—instead of opening with a Bar jacket or a flared skirt, her first look out was a tan trench coat worn over straight-cut pants and a white shirt. It was followed by fitted turtlenecks and easy wrap or pleated skirts. There were A-line sheaths and miniskirts, worn with slouchy low-heeled boots. 

Related article: BAZAAR Editor’s Picks: Best Looks From Dior Fall/Winter 2024

There were also great pantsuits and some very Mod skirt suits. The eveningwear portion was quite sensational—lithe columns beaded entirely or in clusters around the neckline. The collection’s running motif was a handwritten Miss Dior graphic, splashed onto clothes and accessories alike. Under Chiuri’s stewardship, Dior has become a commercial juggernaut. This collection is sure to fuel that success even further, though one occasionally wishes that Chiuri would paint in bolder strokes, step a little outside of the parameters she has set for herself. 

At the other end of the spectrum is Anthony Vaccarello at Saint Laurent, the other marquee name opening Paris Fashion Week. The clothes he showed seemed destined to live on only in editorials (though what powerful images they would make!); even if they do make it onto the shop floor, perhaps only a very brave few would slip them on. 

Related article: Nychaa On Her 3 Favourite Looks From The Saint Laurent Summer 2024 Show

After last season’s utilitarian—for Saint Laurent, anyways—cottons and gabardines, the pendulum swung back to unabashed glamour and sensuality. Silk dresses and separates were reduced to mere wisps, more sheer hosiery than actual garments. Things as prim as knee-length pencil skirts and pussybow blouses suddenly took a turn for the provocative when rendered completely transparent. 

The palette evoked the powdery hues of makeup, while the silhouettes subtly referenced Yves Saint Laurent’s infamous 1971 collection—infamous for having shocked polite society with its echoes of wartime Paris in the Forties. From that collection, Vaccarello borrowed the wedge heels, the tightly wrapped turbans, the giant fur chubbies—though here they were actually made from marabou feathers. There weren’t many pieces that weren’t sheer, but what little there was looked great—the rounded leather coats, the strong-shouldered but soft and slouchy tailoring, those marabou numbers. A fantasy of the female wardrobe, the collection was the furthest thing from commercial—potent for image-making, though it remains to be seen how it will translate to merchandising. 

At Schiaparelli, Daniel Roseberry showed how to combine the theatrical with the practical. In recent years, the brand’s visibility has soared thanks to its over-the-top red-carpet and haute couture moments. But this season, Roseberry was pondering about the place of ready-to-wear in the Schiaparelli universe he had built. His answer was for it to be a little more grounded, a little easier to integrate into the day-to-day of his customers’ lives, while still maintaining a whiff of that Schiaparelli drama.

Related article: The Glory Of Glamour At Paris Couture

The opening looks suggested a shift away from the fantastical that until now has been his calling card: A trio of suits in grey, black and tan, cut in a relaxed fit. The surrealism was in the details, like neckties made of braided hair. There were plenty of great coats, chic and restrained, with only their kooky gold buttons denoting their Schiaparelli-ness. Puffer jackets bore traces of the human anatomy; also very witty without being jokey were the trompe l’oeil dresses that created the illusion of a body knocked slightly askew. 

Over at Courrèges, Nicolas di Felice found a way to talk about sex without shoving bare breasts in your face. He had his models slip one hand into a pocket that has been placed directly in front of the crotch—a simple gesture, but the attitude it created spoke volumes. He also showed that it was possible to look to the past without getting stuck in it. His work had the angularity of André Courrèges’ Space Age-y aesthetic, but it was very much rooted in the now—the collection was filled with plenty of high-collared coats and graphic, asymmetric dresses that would stoke 21st-century, Gen Z desire. 

Also looking back to move forward was Chemena Kamali at Chloé, one of the week’s big debuts. It is perhaps too early to tell but she might have single-handedly brought boho chic back. What she presented was a fun, flirty and fresh collection that confidently and convincingly reiterated the House codes as defined by Karl Lagerfeld in the Seventies and refined by Phoebe Philo in the Noughties. 

There were billowy lace blouses and airy mousseline dresses with cascading ruffles, sometimes worn with two-tone jeans, flared trousers or partly tucked into thigh-high boots. Balancing out that softness was a strong selection of capes in leather, patent, checked wool and gabardine. In her show notes, Kamali referenced “natural beauty” and a “sense of freedom and undone-ness”. In a week lacking in designed-by-women-for-women vision, it was a compelling take on modern womanhood.