By CATHY HORYN
Published: February 29, 2008
Paris
It seems only yesterday that Valentino was waving goodbye in a tide of red dresses. Alessandra Facchinetti made her debut Thursday as the company’s new designer, and there could not have been a tougher crowd to please than the court gathered at the Palais de Chaillot.
There was Giancarlo Giammetti, who for 45 years was Valentino’s business partner. His choice to succeed him would have been Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez of Proenza Schouler, but the company’s new owner, Permira, a London-based private equity firm, chose Ms. Facchinetti, who after succeeding Tom Ford at Gucci, in 2004, had been fired.
Seated across the runway was Franca Sozzani, the editor-in-chief of Italian Vogue. She, too, had wanted Ms. Facchinetti and has advised her.
A Paris runway is a gantlet for any new designer, but only Ms. Facchinetti would have known its special pressures. The night before the show, she said a designer has to be able to deal with company politics and other considerations besides dressmaking.
Her Valentino debut was modest; Mr. Giammetti described the effort to Italian journalists as “respectful.” The Valentino archive in Rome is extensive and, according to Ms. Facchinetti, is organized by client names, with a Jackie Onassis section and so forth. Ms. Facchinetti kept her sights within human range, focusing on two or three Valentino staples, including suits and classy day coats.
Small in the shoulder and waist, with a neat sense of balance, a Valentino suit has a distinct look, just as a Saint Laurent jacket once did. But here is a problem that Ms. Facchinetti faces: If she modifies the proportions of the suit too much, she will alienate existing Valentino clients. And retail buyers at stores like Neiman Marcus say they have young customers whose choices are influenced by Valentino’s red-carpet clothes.
But if Ms. Facchinetti doesn’t bring something fresh and contemporary to the tailoring, she runs the risk of being considered irrelevant by editors. The proportions of one generation are not the same for the next, and that is one reason designers like Stefano Pilati of Saint Laurent and Raf Simons of Jil Sander have made changes in the fit and cut of their clothes.
In reality, it will take two or three seasons to know if Ms. Facchinetti’s softer, more relaxed tailoring is the right approach. Her best suit has a bicolor cashmere jacket in black and gray with sleeves shaped by darts near the wrists and a matching skirt with gathers in the front. The fit is easy, and some of the wool day coats, though polished-looking — with enameled buttons and 1960s collars — have a slouchy comfort.
Ms. Facchinetti did not stress herself out with the evening clothes. They were pleasing if lacking in drama: loose silk dresses with fluffy necklines, a strapless red chiffon gown with paper-thin pleats, and a black dress with a fizz of embroidery curls on the wand sleeves and two graphic triangles on the sheer bodice. Respectful and graphic the clothes were, but without some surprise and Valentino glamour, they will become boring.
An unusual sense of insecurity pervades the Paris runways, accounting for ubiquitous styles, like the draped dress. Probably adding to this sense are economic worries, branding pressures and the need to please editors, whose magazines give designers credibility. Few and far between are the singular visions.
Only superficially did Riccardo Tisci’s clothes for Givenchy look new. Trousers had that ultratight fit and rock attitude that one also saw at Balmain, though in a trashier form. And romantic black lace blouses and embellished coats were an obvious counterpoint. But while the tailoring was sharp and all that, the traces of Balenciaga and Christian Lacroix in the hard styling and passementerie put the collection out of touch.
Ungaro is another house in transition. Its latest designer, Esteban Cortazar, 23, is an American with French and Colombian roots and little experience but heaps of optimism. That came through in his debut collection on Wednesday, with playful cashmere sweaters with chunky braiding, draped dresses in pale blue and taupe jersey, and simple rose and pebble prints.
Soft rather than strident, Mr. Cortazar found the modern starting point for Ungaro. Now he has to put technical know-how behind his pluck.
Stella McCartney had a fine show Thursday — nothing knocked out of the park, but neither did you sense any trembling insecurity. (O.K., maybe the models occasionally trembled on their wooden platforms.) Ms. McCartney knows what she likes, whether it’s a hand-felted coat or a belted cocoon in the blotchy pattern of a stormy sky or a pretty navy dress with broderie anglaise.
She makes a blue velvet dress that’s as plain as mud look chic — because she has a quality of letting things go. And she can connect her clothes to life, by giving them honest sex appeal or the intimacy and Englishness of a boiled knit or a coat madly blazing with coats of arms.
One can try too hard, then. Dries van Noten’s prints were dense and gorgeous, a treat for the eye, but something soon felt off in his show on Wednesday.
Despite the effort applied to the floral and marbled prints, despite the romantic combinations of fur chubbies and long silhouettes, this was a thin, cold-leg, one-note collection. The hand-knits were exceptional, and surely the warmer, tailored clothes are in the showroom, but if Mr. van Noten had taken this delicacy any more seriously, the mirror would have cracked.
Paris
It seems only yesterday that Valentino was waving goodbye in a tide of red dresses. Alessandra Facchinetti made her debut Thursday as the company’s new designer, and there could not have been a tougher crowd to please than the court gathered at the Palais de Chaillot.
There was Giancarlo Giammetti, who for 45 years was Valentino’s business partner. His choice to succeed him would have been Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez of Proenza Schouler, but the company’s new owner, Permira, a London-based private equity firm, chose Ms. Facchinetti, who after succeeding Tom Ford at Gucci, in 2004, had been fired.
Seated across the runway was Franca Sozzani, the editor-in-chief of Italian Vogue. She, too, had wanted Ms. Facchinetti and has advised her.
A Paris runway is a gantlet for any new designer, but only Ms. Facchinetti would have known its special pressures. The night before the show, she said a designer has to be able to deal with company politics and other considerations besides dressmaking.
Her Valentino debut was modest; Mr. Giammetti described the effort to Italian journalists as “respectful.” The Valentino archive in Rome is extensive and, according to Ms. Facchinetti, is organized by client names, with a Jackie Onassis section and so forth. Ms. Facchinetti kept her sights within human range, focusing on two or three Valentino staples, including suits and classy day coats.
Small in the shoulder and waist, with a neat sense of balance, a Valentino suit has a distinct look, just as a Saint Laurent jacket once did. But here is a problem that Ms. Facchinetti faces: If she modifies the proportions of the suit too much, she will alienate existing Valentino clients. And retail buyers at stores like Neiman Marcus say they have young customers whose choices are influenced by Valentino’s red-carpet clothes.
But if Ms. Facchinetti doesn’t bring something fresh and contemporary to the tailoring, she runs the risk of being considered irrelevant by editors. The proportions of one generation are not the same for the next, and that is one reason designers like Stefano Pilati of Saint Laurent and Raf Simons of Jil Sander have made changes in the fit and cut of their clothes.
In reality, it will take two or three seasons to know if Ms. Facchinetti’s softer, more relaxed tailoring is the right approach. Her best suit has a bicolor cashmere jacket in black and gray with sleeves shaped by darts near the wrists and a matching skirt with gathers in the front. The fit is easy, and some of the wool day coats, though polished-looking — with enameled buttons and 1960s collars — have a slouchy comfort.
Ms. Facchinetti did not stress herself out with the evening clothes. They were pleasing if lacking in drama: loose silk dresses with fluffy necklines, a strapless red chiffon gown with paper-thin pleats, and a black dress with a fizz of embroidery curls on the wand sleeves and two graphic triangles on the sheer bodice. Respectful and graphic the clothes were, but without some surprise and Valentino glamour, they will become boring.
An unusual sense of insecurity pervades the Paris runways, accounting for ubiquitous styles, like the draped dress. Probably adding to this sense are economic worries, branding pressures and the need to please editors, whose magazines give designers credibility. Few and far between are the singular visions.
Only superficially did Riccardo Tisci’s clothes for Givenchy look new. Trousers had that ultratight fit and rock attitude that one also saw at Balmain, though in a trashier form. And romantic black lace blouses and embellished coats were an obvious counterpoint. But while the tailoring was sharp and all that, the traces of Balenciaga and Christian Lacroix in the hard styling and passementerie put the collection out of touch.
Ungaro is another house in transition. Its latest designer, Esteban Cortazar, 23, is an American with French and Colombian roots and little experience but heaps of optimism. That came through in his debut collection on Wednesday, with playful cashmere sweaters with chunky braiding, draped dresses in pale blue and taupe jersey, and simple rose and pebble prints.
Soft rather than strident, Mr. Cortazar found the modern starting point for Ungaro. Now he has to put technical know-how behind his pluck.
Stella McCartney had a fine show Thursday — nothing knocked out of the park, but neither did you sense any trembling insecurity. (O.K., maybe the models occasionally trembled on their wooden platforms.) Ms. McCartney knows what she likes, whether it’s a hand-felted coat or a belted cocoon in the blotchy pattern of a stormy sky or a pretty navy dress with broderie anglaise.
She makes a blue velvet dress that’s as plain as mud look chic — because she has a quality of letting things go. And she can connect her clothes to life, by giving them honest sex appeal or the intimacy and Englishness of a boiled knit or a coat madly blazing with coats of arms.
One can try too hard, then. Dries van Noten’s prints were dense and gorgeous, a treat for the eye, but something soon felt off in his show on Wednesday.
Despite the effort applied to the floral and marbled prints, despite the romantic combinations of fur chubbies and long silhouettes, this was a thin, cold-leg, one-note collection. The hand-knits were exceptional, and surely the warmer, tailored clothes are in the showroom, but if Mr. van Noten had taken this delicacy any more seriously, the mirror would have cracked.
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