By Timothy Hagy, Paris Editor
THERE IS A SILVERY BEAUTY to Paris even in the darkness that surrounds the winter
solstice. On Christmas night a bright winter moon rose in the eastern sky. The
next morning, the first sparrows began to sing before dawn, amid the falling
sleet and snow. On the top floor of a luxury fin-de-siècle apartment
building on Rue de Bourgogne, a warm light broke through iron latticework on
a windowsill, and then splashed like golden puddles onto the sidewalk below.
The constant swipe of a street cleaner's brush tapped through the darkness, his
florescent green uniform flickering beneath a corner light.
If this was post-war Paris of the late 40s, then fashion would be in full flower,
and Ernest Hemingway would be holding court at the Ritz bar.
As it is, the Hemingway Bar is now located on the Rue Cambon side of the Ritz,
and during fashion season it is descended upon by hordes of Condé-Nast
editors, usually huddled tightly together at corner tables as if plotting some
unfathomable conspiracy; by high-priced call girls waiting for the sound of a
cellphone that would herald an offer from one of the Arab sheiks that now populate
the suites of the upper échelon; by dowagers come to view the springtime
collections, ordering 'pick-me-up' Sapphire martinis before retreating to the
gold-chandeliered restaurant, L'Espadon, there to dine upon slivers of truffles
and poached swordfish in emphatic isolation.
But as this is Paris 2005, that world is quickly becoming anachronistic. A fast-changing
global economy, evolving lifestyles, persistent deficits and corporate bankruptcies
have given the collective fashion set a bad case of the jitters. There is a growing
sense that change is inevitable, and that the sumptuous style of the past is
likely to be transformed into a more terse statement of contemporary elegance.
During couture week, the faithful who come this season, will be entitled to only
three days of shows for the first time in the history of Haute Couture. Of the
seventeen runway presentations on the officially truncated calendar, only six
member houses are actually showing, while eleven others have been invited by
the Fédération Française de la Couture to fill holes. In
the end, the Hemingway Bar at the Ritz (Rue Cambon side) is likely to see fewer
regulars.
If there is a theme that is emerging, it is that the big names of the past are
quietly disappearing, and that what is shown nowadays by the remaining titans
is done so mostly as window dressing/spectacle that will ultimately shake down
into sales of perfume and accessories.
Then you have an influx of young designers that are actually selling clothes,
often putting together shows on limited budgets. Ralph Rucci, On Aura Tout Vu,
and a sprinkling of others come to mind.
Karl Lagerfeld's latest business venture with Tommy Hilfiger could provide a
glimpse of what may be down the road, and in the very least has generated more
interest than the next Chanel couture show.
Change comes, either as gently as the passing seasons, or as persistently as
the smell of decadence that permeates the hallowed halls of the Ritz - all that
is left to do is to observe.
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