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At Lanvin, Pure Elegance
PARIS, October 10 - In the failing light of gathering evening, the chestnut trees that ring l'Étoile were frosted an autumnal brown. A cool breeze was blowing in off the Seine, a sure sign of the impending arrival of the dark season, that period when Northern Europe sees daylight diminished for six months out of the year, and when the nights grow long and cold.
But it was the unveiling of a summertime collection at Lanvin late Sunday afternoon. To really understand it, you'd have to go back to a sun-drenched day in early July, when Alber Elbaz invited a handful of journalists in to the Salon de Batailles in the Hôtel de Crillon to see several initial pieces.
On that morning, standing as a silhouette against the large 18th century French windows, Alber talked about volume verses lightness, about the technical wizardry of darts and the magic of hand embroidery that was to be the basis for his Spring 2005 collection. In retrospect, the spirit of his mentor, the late Geoffrey Beene, could not have been more evident.
So on Sunday, the stage was set as guests filtered into the warm Espace Wagram for the show. Chief among them was Pierre Bergé, co-founder of Yves Saint Laurent Couture, who was chatting happily with an old nemesis, Didier Grumbach.
"I'm here faithfully," Bergé said, "and for good reason!"
While boys in evening dress stood with silver trays laden with chocolates, something rather amazing happened. Strings of powerful editors began to interact, laying aside years of bitter quarreling, and agreeing on the fact that Lanvin is a label to watch.
The very first rose-colored dress had it - the kiss of couture, volume miraculously accomplished without a petticoat. Then there was subtle pleating that flowed down the front of a black cocktail dress until it disappeared into a froth of chiffon. Or, you might just take a second look at the fur-like draping of stoles that were made of faille. A simple elegance permeated each meticulously thought out piece, some accented with twirls of shimmering beads, others tied with delicate ribbons.
As the soundtrack sang out "Chanson d'Amour", the pièce de résistance - a folded lamé skirt paired with a gray top drenched in silver embroidery - joined a collection of evening wear so polished and refined that they glistened like jewels. The only thing lacking was the slightest hint of pretence.
Frankly, I don't know why they call Lanvin Ready-to-Wear since the label captures the heart, soul and finish of haute couture. It has the same sensuousness that Saint Laurent once had, the same artistry, the same allure.
Backstage Alber and Madame Wang, his boss, were hemmed into a cul-de-sac with paparazzi on one side, and ecstatic editors on the other. Ever gracious and modest, Alber nodded, almost inaudibly, "thank you, thank you".
But it is fashion that should thank Alber, a bright light amid the gloom of mediocrity and merchandizing that has slowly descended upon Ready-to-Wear.
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