It was the most anticipated moment of this season’s Paris Couture Week. Alessandro Michele – the genius behind Gucci’s seven-year buffet of chintz, glitz and crystal-encrusted avant-garde that saw the designer hailed as the man who could revive and refresh a heritage house in future-proof splendour – debuted his first ever haute couture line for Valentino, the maison he’s helmed since March of last year.
Inside the Palais Brongniart, the 19th century palace and former stock exchange which was built under the direction of Napoleon Bonaparte, Michele’s faithful devotees filled the front row. They’re the uber-cool and boundfully creative types – art and music world scions and legends of showbiz industry: Nicky and Suzie Cave, Lou Douillon, Tali Lennox – and David Furnish and Elton John of course.
‘Vertigineux’ is what the designer had named his inaugural couture collection. A dizzying display of made-by-hand opulence that had the crowds speechless, breathless, and astounded. He quoted Umberto Eco, the Italian philosopher, semiotician and medievalist, and the power of the list, in his show notes as inspiration for the spectacle of esteemed style: ‘The list is at the origin of culture. It is part of the history of art and literature. And what does culture want? To make the infinite comprehensible. It wants to create order — not always, but often. And how, as human beings, do we cope with infinity? How can we grasp the ungraspable? Through lists, catalogs, collections in museums, encyclopedias, and dictionaries. The list does not destroy culture, it creates it.’
In Michele’s own words, and his hypothesis on its function in today’s parade of fearless fashion, ‘On one side, it’s an attempt to confine the infinite extension of the existing within a meaningful framework. A way to bring some order to the chaos of the universe. On the other side, the list can transcend into poetry becoming a visionary, aesthetic and narrative instrument. In this case the list, bowing before the unspeakable, vortically alludes to the infinite. It doesn’t aim to tame the chaos, rather to contemplate it.’ His actual lists for each of the 48 looks culminated in 95 pages of one-line notes, referencing style ingredients (boning, volume, Crepe de Chine); historical figures (Bloody Mary, Shakespeare, Marie Antoinette), artists, engineers and theorists (William Morris, Vitruvius, Sigmund Freud); and more abstract ideas (Obsession, Mystery, Femme Fatale).
As a scalloped midnight-blue curtain slowly opened onto the stage, these thoughts and ponderings scrolled across a digital screen in a bright red, calculator-esque typography, and on came the opening ensemble – the moment the crowds had all been waiting for, surmising what we should come to expect at a Valentino Haute Couture show now that Michele leads it helm.
It didn’t disappoint. A huge, imposing harlequin-print gown with a full, ruched-tulle skirt, braided silk bodice and billowing sleeves slowly made its way to the centremark, turning to the audience for them to ingest before heading off to the other side (this was the to-the-point modelling ethos which allowed guests to bask in the prestige of the house’s handiwork). The tone was set – and didn’t waiver.
What followed was an exercise in outré – almost absurd – elegance: 47 more looks of lavish grandeur and unbridled majesty. There were huge crinoline skirts overlaid with floral tapestries, lace ruffles and shimmering jewels; sky-scraping feather accoutrements and bejewelled wrestling masks; and tiered opera coats and petalled Tudor ruffs. It was regal, it was resplendent, it was a renaissance of couture so captivating that not a single eye strayed from its immense craft.
Naturally, it was undeniably cinematic too. Michele’s mother – of whom he honours with much of his design inspiration – was a costume designer in the Roman film industry, and he had spent large portions of his childhood rummaging through her wardrobe, transfixed by the rustling taffeta and glistening sequins. So, it was only fitting that – after the finale look (a crocheted ballgown in a red, white and black which almost served the eery allure of the carpet of The Shining’s Overlook Hotel) – the closing parade saw models retake to the stage under flashing strobe lights, denoting the chaos and order of the creative mind.
He took his bow, the curtain came down, and the show was over for us – but certainly not for Michele’s visionary haute couture. Viva la nouveau Valentino! And Viva la couture that truly thrills.
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