Chaos and Kanye West at Paris Fashion Week

A runway model walks across a stage in a sleeveless dress of pleated black material and long socks with a checkerboard pattern.A catwalk model at the Louis Vuitton Spring/Summer 2020 show in Paris

For 11 years, Kanye West has parachuted into fashion weeks, disrupting the schedule with last-minute shows (usually to the detriment of smaller brands) and unveiling collections that have largely been trashed by critics.

West did it again on the final Monday of Paris Fashion Week, three weeks after announcing that he was prematurely ending his 10-year design contract with massive American retailer Gap and planning to end his longest-running association with Adidas, with who has built a coaching business that generated $1.7 billion in sales last year, according to UBS estimates. He now plans to go ahead with his own label.

The samples for that label materialized in a small show organized at short notice on the Champs Elysées and was attended by important players in the industry, including the editor of Vogue Anna Wintour, the CEO of Balenciaga Cédric Charbit and the executive of Tiffany (and son of LVMH owner) Alexandre Arnault.

West’s previous shows were sometimes delayed by several hours (in 2016, several models passed out from the heat while waiting for the show to start), and, 80 minutes late, West finally showed up in a T-shirt that read “White Lives Matter.” and dazzling Burberry flip-flops to deliver a six-minute monologue that alternated between grumbling about the Gap (“they never gave us a factory”) and bluster (“Bernard Arnault is my new Drake,” meaning the chairman of the world’s largest luxury group of the world is now his main rival) and an earnest plea for his collection to be judged fairly.

A runway model in a shiny black outfit that combines leggings with a top that looks like an inflatable mattress

Kanye West’s YZY Season 9 featured puffy hoodies paired with tights. . .

A model of indeterminate gender in a gray stocking from head to toe

. . . and full bodysuits without zippers that showed West’s notion of comfort and convenience

And then there were the clothes, designed by Hood by Air’s subversive designer Shayne Oliver, and hard to make out in the winding, unlit hallways that became a catwalk. Dark body stockings were glimpsed stretched over the models’ faces, giving them a terrifying alien look; puffy sweatshirts and down jackets of Legoman proportions paired with tiny skirt-style vests; and nylon boots and moon boots that creaked loudly in the semidarkness. It was a cohesive vision, if not totally original. More interesting were the notions of comfort and ease that underpin clothing: Everything was made to be “put on and put on” without “hardware” like zippers or buckles, West said.

But it was the White Lives Matter t-shirts that became the talk of the town. Printed with a photo of the late Pope John Paul II on the front, they encouraged more than one guest to come out. Were they ironic? An attempt to vindicate a hate slogan? Or evidence that West’s pro-Trump political conservatism leans even further to the right? West did not say.

Bella Hadid on stage being sprayed with white paint-like material

At Coperni, Bella Hadid was sprayed with a white material that solidified into a dress © Luca Tombolini

The other “viral” moment of Paris Fashion Week came unexpectedly from the small Parisian brand Coperni. Designers Sébastien Meyer and Arnaud Vaillant sent Bella Hadid in her panties to have three people paint her body with a white liquid that turned into a dress.

The spray fabric was supplied by Fabrican, a London-based company that has been making the material for around two decades, so it was not new technology. But it was new to most of the audience and to those who shared the video online, and thousands more now know the Coperni name and associate it with innovation, because of it. Meyer and Vaillant would be smart to push that further.

A runway model wears a gray-green coat and olive green pants.

Miu Miu de Miuccia Prada focused on practicality, with raincoats and utility pants. . .

A female runway model wears a minidress with knee-high white boots that reveal her toes.. . . and dresses made from layers of chalk-colored thermal t-shirts © Monic

A runway model wears a bright red dress, cut asymmetrically to reveal one leg more than the other.

Stella McCartney showed light and minimalist dresses in vibrant colors. . .

A catwalk model wears a caramel-colored jacket over an asymmetrical dress

. . . together with costumes enriched with crystals © Pietro D’Aprano

Can a designer break through without a celebrity attached? There was little evidence of it this season. The designers seemed rudderless, caught between a post-pandemic spirit of celebration, the ongoing war in Ukraine and mounting economic fears. Escapist shows with lots of miniskirts and upbeat colors seemed irrelevant and sometimes Marie Antoinette-esque; and collections too rooted in pragmatism failed to excite. It’s no wonder so many turned to celebrities for looks and relevance.

The collection that best spoke of the uncertain state of mind was Miu Miu, which combined dystopian futurism with functional and desirable clothing. “This is not an easy time to create fashion,” designer Miuccia Prada said in her show notes. “It is important that fashion works. I am not against luxury, but I am against ostentation.”

Big-brand designers barely mentioned sustainability, and the lockdown-era rage over upcycling has faded.

Once known as Prada’s little sister, Miu Miu has grown considerably since Miuccia began sharing creative duties on Prada’s main line with Raf Simons, and is almost solely responsible for reviving the ultra-short miniskirt trend (financially still being a small player, with 2021 revenues of €400m compared to Prada’s €2.9bn). This season, Miuccia worked with Berlin-based Chinese artist Li Shuang to furnish her exhibition space with benches inspired by the fiber-optic cables that crisscross the seabed, enabling 95 percent of the world’s communications. They were a reminder of how easily we can disconnect, both from reality and from each other. When a volcanic eruption in January severed the only cable routed to Tonga, the Pacific island lost communication for five days.

From among these cable-style benches emerged an admirably diverse array of models in delicately layered chalk-colored thermal shirts, short-sleeved raincoats and evening dresses cut in sporty nylon, and trouser suits and coats crafted from distressed leather and denim. . , as if they had recently survived a sandstorm. In a “continuous search for sustainable ideologies”, several of the leather jackets were made from second-hand material sourced from old markets, of which around 50 will go into production, the company said.

A catwalk model in a long sleeveless evening dress

At Balenciaga, models walked through a quagmire wearing elegant evening gowns. . .

A catwalk model in a full length black evening dress and elbow length gloves. . . and more resistant pieces of leatherA runway model in a black leather top, black leather skirt and strappy shoes

Hermès introduced elegant leather dividers. . .A female catwalk model in a long layered dress in orange and peach colors

. . . and practical zip-up dresses in a desert-inspired palette of browns and oranges © Filippo Fior

As far as sustainability agendas go, the jackets were little more than a gesture, undermined by an invitation to a show encased in two sheets of thick plastic. But at least there was a gesture. Designers from big brands barely talked about sustainability this season, and the lockdown-era rage over upcycling has faded. This is partly because brands fear accusations of “greenwashing” and partly because the novelty of dead and certified sustainable fabrics has worn off. Or at least talking about it has.

Of course, Stella McCartney did want to talk about it, announcing behind the scenes that her collection was the “most sustainable yet,” with 87 percent made from “conscious materials” such as solvent-free rhinestones, regenerative cotton, and “based materials.” from grape”. ” faux furs. Materials continue to evolve, but design must too: McCartney could do with taking a few more risks.

A female catwalk model in an elegant white pantsuit

Chanel’s Virginie Viard was inspired by the 1961 Alain Resnais film ‘Last Year in Marienbad’. . .A catwalk model in an off-the-shoulder chiffon dress. . . for a collection that was a collage of sheer chiffon gowns, gold jewelry and sequined white garmentsA female runway model in a voluminous white top and matching skirt with giant black zippers.

Nicolas Ghesquière of Louis Vuitton took details from the brand’s leather goods, such as zippers, and placed them on clothing. . .A female catwalk model in a long coat and vibrant colored pants

. . . playing with femininity, sport and futurism © Giovanni Giannoni

Balenciaga’s Demna Gvasalia also revisited well-trodden territory, both with its set (a mud pit, only this time without snow) and its clothes (tracksuits, oversized tailoring, pleated cape-back dress).

The same goes for Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s shows for Hermès, where clean leather separates and sporty tailoring are always on the menu. And to Virginie Viard at Chanel, who has softened the house’s line of tweed suits and dresses and given a new emphasis to jewellery, but has done little to evolve or challenge the house’s codes.

Strategically, there is a logic to keeping it classic on these labels. Both produce bags that double as investments (an Hermès bag set a new record of €352,800 at Sotheby’s last week) and customers can feel safe buying from designers who don’t make waves. But brands also need to stay fresh.

Nicolas Ghesquière’s collections for Louis Vuitton have their own formula, regularly combining femininity and sport, futurism and traditional leather savoir-faire. What keeps them alive is their constant and often daring play with proportions, and here he took details from the brand’s leather goods – zippers and tabs, locks and tags, even the corner of a trunk – and turned them into on belts, sleeves, and sometimes entire garments. The dazzling sets also help: it was a kind of red and gold marquee designed by installation artist Philippe Parreno in the shape of a flower and installed in the central courtyard of the Louvre. When it comes to cutting, deep pockets help too.

Lauren Indvik is the FT Fashion Editor

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