In yesterday's post we lookd at two collections that took on the Parisian runways a wider debate about truth and freedom of expression. There were some hints at politics in a way on Vêtements' runway as well: "Russia don't you mess around with me" read indeed the slogan on a couple of the collaged tops included in the show.
The sentence was a biographical reference to the label's founder, Georgian designer Demna Gvasalia who left Abkhazia when he was a child and Russia supported a separatist revolt in the region, but it also hinted at the 2008 Russo-Georgian crisis. While the political reference was confined to these designs, the biographical hints continued throughout the collection via Gvasalia's main life inspiration - Martin Margiela.
Believing he had been so far misintepreted in his homages to Margiela that too often were maybe taken as lazy exercises in pilfering or prompted many to think that Vêtements was a tribute label, Gvasalia decided to face what he called "The Elephant in the Room", that is Margiela intended as influence and muse.
The men and women's show - that took place at the Paul Bert Serpette indoor market, located in the Saint-Ouen district, in the outskirts of Paris - opened with stylist Lotta Volkova wearing a fur coat inside out (new version of the one in Martin Margiela's 1984 Collection for The Golden Spindle contest?), revealing its nylon lining, matched with a headscarf and sunglasses and boots that seemed to have been made with passport covers (an idea also used for the clutches in the show).
The models that followed mainly sported coats inside out; at times the lining of a classic trench coat revealed one of those floral peasant dresses that made Vêtements famous. Most looks were completed by souvenir headscarves (you can easily find them in vintage stores at a fraction of the price...or maybe, like me, you're a fetishist of the souvenir scarf and already are the proud owner of one of those horridly embarrassing and utterly unwearable Venice scarves from 1981...) worn over baseball caps and at times matched with patent boots with prints of Zurich postcards.
As th runway progressed the garments started being lined one on top of the other: tailored jackets were matched with streetwear; shirts were buried under sweats that were then hidden under ample coats. It looked as if the models had entered a thrift-store and had come out wearing as many clothes as they could.
Camouflage made a strong appearance in pants that seemed to have been fashioned out of camouflage nets bought on Amazon (what next, a Ghillie suit?). Shirts displayed prints of graffiti in different languages and of mock adverts à la Lidl, but with models wearing Vêtements' designs (a funny and ironic approach, finally).
Silhouettes in the meantime escalated reaching a Michelin Man-like level, but the Margiela-isms prevailed: turning oversized jackets around was very Margiela, but Gvasalia went to even greater lengths.
He actually asked kids from the kindergarten in Zurich near his studio to do some drawings around the "The elephant in the room" theme, to evoke Margiela's Spring/Summer 1990 collection and that show invitation drawn by kids (and maybe to avoid paying copyrights; are children's scribbles and drawings copyright-able?).
The "ode" to Margiela continued via four-stitched labels and new versions of his Tabi boots, alternated to trendy horrid trainers and sock boots (the former evoked the attire of '90s club-kids in a scarily uncanny way...).
While understandable, Gvasalia's obsession with Margiela is verging towards the unhealthy: he worked there between 2009 and 2012 and doesn't seem to have any other references apart from Margiela, as if he had had very limited fashion experiences before ending up under the fashion spotlight.
The idea behind Gvasalia's Tabi boots is that Margiela appropriated them from the Japanese tradition, while he is appropriating them and reinventing the shoes from Margiela. In a nutshell, in his view he should not just be allowed to do it, but he is fully entitled to do it.
Yet appropriation should have its limits: the brand's DHL T-shirt Gvasalia & Co did in 2016 may have been a hit, but it was on the market at immoral prices ($330, remember), revealing that the brand is maybe more about hysteria and immediate limited trends than about a strong identity.
In this collection there weren't just Margielaisms, but there were also some possible copyright infringements: Gvasalia covered for example his denim designs with cute stickers and patches, but among them there was also a logo reminiscent of the American Monster Energy NASCAR Cup Series Toyota Racing team BK Racing. You wonder if this was a legitimate collaboration or maybe one of those accidental pilfering acts similar to the time Gvasalia stole a Ruff Ryders shirt design from 2000 for a Balenciaga collection.
If you dissected Vêtements' collaged shirts you would have also discovered a chopped Planet Hollywood logo, a Spider-Man quilted coat, Marilyn Manson T-shirts (was this a legitimate collab?), and a random EU logo for organic food regulations.
Assuming that Gvasalia has paid for all these collaborations, the EU logo may pose new and intriguing problems: the logo is indeed mainly used to make organic products easier to be identified by the consumers. The organic symbol is protected from being used on non-organic products throughout the EU. Now, Gvasalia sweaters may or may not be organic cotton, but they are not food and, even though this top may be considered a parody design and therefore may escape copyright infringement, the EU may still come after him for generating confusion in the consumers.
Last but not least, the styling of the collection evoked here and there the collaged look adopted by people shopping in charity shops and wearing recycled garments not for trendy reasons but for necessity.
The problem is that the models on the runway were mimicking these characters living in liminal spaces such as the banlieues, but were doing so wearing luxury versions of their clothes (in the same way you may be wearing an expensive DHL T-shirt but you're not working for the courier and may be accidentally mocking those ones who are working hard for the company...).
So, in a way Margiela was just one of the many elephants in Gvasalia's room that currently seems to be packed with endless exercises in appropriating and quoting, practices considered as signs of avant-garde conceptualism (would you praise a student who would appropriate the Tabi boots for his/her graduation project?) and are sold at improbable prices.
It would be interesting to hear what Margiela thinks about this all: maybe he is laughing his heart out, thinking that he did the right thing when he left the fashion industry behind; maybe he is crying at the sorry state of it all.
Yet, while Margiela may have been a fashion pioneer, he was deeply wrong about one thing. In an interview for the catalogue of the 2015-2016 exhibition "Footprint - The Track of Shoes in Fashion" at MoMu Antwerp, he indeed stated: "The Tabi boot is the most important footprint of my career: it's recognisable, it still goes on after 25 years, and it has never been copied." Sorry, Mr Margiela, it is definitely recognisable and iconic, but it has now been copied.
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