This Paris Fashion Week gave us a lot to talk about, and I am not only referring to the clothes. Between Matthieu Blazy keeping the Chanel obsession alive and Michael Rider writing Celine’s next act, it was quite a show. But the plot twist I did not see coming arrived just after the shows: Anthony Vaccarello handing back the keys to Saint Laurent after a decade. I thought he had tenure. Like that philosophy professor who never leaves the university.
Saint Laurent takes me back to those exaggerated shoulders, the pointed heels, the powerful silhouette. My hotshot in the city days, with feet in excruciating pain. Those days were something, but I was never meant to spend my whole life as la femme Saint Laurent. Perhaps Vaccarello wasn’t either.
I know exactly who the Saint Laurent woman is. There was never any confusion about what Vaccarello’s Saint Laurent stood for, and I admired that conviction: that sartorial authority, that confidence, that sharpness. The clothes are striking, but somewhere along the way, she lost her mystery for me. I knew the mood before I had even seen the collection.
As I made my way towards softer days, she was still giving me the strong shoulder. Sex appeal was always part of her armor. Yes, she can dominate a room with a glance, but is there room for ease in her wardrobe?
Then the great fashion grapevine gave me a name: Chemena Kamali. It’s still a rumor, but I like the sound of it. I’d love to see those familiar codes tell a different story, to recognize Saint Laurent and still be surprised. Perhaps we’re in for the Blazy effect: the same house codes, with a fresh take.
What interests me at Chanel is that I can still recognise the house without feeling I already know what comes next. Its history is there, but so is the possibility of surprise. Saint Laurent has such a distinct vocabulary. I’m curious to see what another designer might do with it, which parts they would bring forward, and which they might allow to soften. Keep your sales associate on standby.
And that’s what I find so compelling about fashion: just when I think a house no longer speaks to me, someone might arrive with something new to say. Who will the next Saint Laurent woman be? Will we become friends? Until then, I wish Anthony a fabulous next chapter. And myself a lower heel.