[ARTICLE] The Width of a Stitch, the Blue of a Sash

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/01/30/fashion/30fash.html
January 30, 2005
REVIEW
The Width of a Stitch, the Blue of a Sash
By CATHY HORYN
Paris
IT has been 48 years since Karl Lagerfeld began his career as a sketcher
at Balmain, 17 since LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton founded Christian
Lacroix, and five since Helmut Lang sold half of his business to Prada.
Saint Laurent is in retirement. Tom Ford is in Hollywood. Of these
influential designers, the one for whom there were scant expectations was
Mr. Lagerfeld. And now, after the corporate routing of the last few
years, he appears to be the last man standing.
This is paradoxical because Mr. Lagerfeld never attached his name to
anything permanent, which for most of his career was considered a
liability. To last was the thing in fashion, and to last meant brick and
mortar. But it also meant that if a reckoning was to occur, he would have
nothing to lose. According to fashion's new math, he is ahead.
Corporations are neither good nor bad for fashion; they just have an
overriding concern if they are public: to increase their profit margins.
An outsider looking at the spring haute couture collections last week
would not have discerned that pressure in the mod coats and crocodile
minis that John Galliano showed at Dior. Sidney Toledano, the president
of Dior, which is a unit of LVMH, said that there has been no attempt to
rein in Mr. Galliano and that on the contrary the house is spending more
on marketing, for which couture is a primary tool.
"John will get what he wants," Mr. Toledano said.
But a pledge of more marketing dollars can't obscure the impression that
there is now a difference, if a slight one, between Dior and Chanel, the
two oldest houses with ateliers that still offer beautiful handmade
clothes. This distinction is separate from Mr. Galliano's creativity and
Dior's ability to sell luxury products. Rather, it has to do with the
culture and priorities of a public company compared with those of a
private one, which Chanel is.
Chanel has been owned by the Wertheimer family since 1954, the year that
Mr. Lagerfeld began learning dressmaking techniques handed down since the
1920's. And though Chanel today functions like any sleek corporate
machine, you still feel when looking at Mr. Lagerfeld's clothes that the
most vital part of the mechanism is the seamstress's tiny stitch.
At the rate couture houses are closing, in another dozen years the
intricate work of the petites mains will probably cease to matter. More
than any individual, Mr. Lagerfeld has attempted to preserve needle–craft
skills by getting Chanel to buy small suppliers like Lesage, the
embroiderer, and by having dresses in his collections, like those in pin–
tucked silk chiffon, that show off the quiet artistry of the petites
mains. But the situation is comparable to the arrival of the automobile.
In time the knowledge of harness straps and carriages was wiped away.
Which makes it pretty silly to talk about who will one day replace Mr.
Lagerfeld, or Valentino, the Roman couturier. Not only is their knowledge
irreplaceable, it's also finite. The more pertinent question to ask is
how those businesses will change.
Though Mr. Lagerfeld can make a dress as it was done in the 20's, his
genius at Chanel has been to adapt those techniques to contemporary life.
That means clothes that weigh practically nothing. In his show, which
drew on the powdery colors and hair of the 18th century (feathered caps,
tiny rosebuds on tulle and yards of pristine white faille sashed with
blue satin ribbon), suits that appeared to be tweed were in reality
mohair embroidered on tulle. Some of the pleated skirts were ventilated
with panels of tulle, and there were juxtapositions, like a moyen âge
cuff with an up–to–date low–riding belt.
The French Enlightenment palette of dove gray, pale pink and lingerie
blue gives a hint of what to expect in May when Chanel is the subject of
the spring costume exhibition and gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Valentino's show was also a first–rate display of workmanship, set to an
around–the–world theme (and video montage) that occasionally made you
want to plead, "Daddy, are we there yet?" Still, the ride was worth it
just to see the finesse of a white coat channeled with white embroidery,
the smack of iris and pansy colors and the Harlow glamour of a gown sewn
with thousands of pearls and worn with a white mink vest tied with a pink
bow. And whereas Giorgio Armani seems ensnared by faultless elegance,
Valentino goes for the delicious perversity of a black cocktail dress
drizzled with pink ruffles and rosettes. When a couture dress costs
$50,000, why confine yourself to the lower altitudes of good taste?
"To stop couture now would be stupid," Donald Potard, the chief executive
of Jean Paul Gaultier, said after Mr. Gaultier's superb show. "It's
brought us so much exposure." Mr. Gaultier's clothes perfectly married
African inspiration with French savoir–faire. He, too, showed the work of
the seamstresses to good effect with wool and draped jersey dresses
delicately fluted at the bodice like tribal vests. Saint Laurent, to whom
he is often compared, also made mental voyages to Africa, and like him,
Mr. Gaultier always returns to France for the pantsuits and those offhand
color mixes, like chocolate, marine and snake green, that always look
right.
Before Mr. Lacroix's show a spokeswoman said no decision had been made
about whether he would continue with couture now that LVMH has sold his
brand to a duty–free company. Mr. Lacroix was quoted in a French
newspaper last week saying that he admired what Alber Elbaz has done at
Lanvin, which is to give French chic a modern ease. His show offered such
a gambit, with skimmy dresses under clouds of tulle (or a wrapper of
khaki taffeta) and an especially lovely dress in pink chiffon caught with
bows and laced at the back. The designer who set fashion on its ear with
the pouf deserves a fresh start.
Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company
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Poetic Badgers
"Snow.. snow, that can't be good for suede, can it?" –Jerry Seinfeld