Runway Review

(PARIS) CHANEL
"Coquille Chanel!" Karl Lagerfeld, in a pun on the French world for shell, channeled a new luxury for the esteemed fashion house, injecting a rounded view into what has until now remained a linear brand.

Emerging out of a Chanel jacket comparable in size to the Titanic--reaching nearly as high as the ceiling of the Grand Palais and cast in a hard concrete-like finish--models of decidedly less intimidating proportions whisked by quickly in a deluge of garments featuring conch, shell, and scallop shapes and touches, as well as a sea anemone-inspired dress. Easy to do, given they were all shod in comfortable flats.

"It's about a new luxury," said Lagerfeld, whose oceanic couture was inspired by a book on the underwater world. "I was tired of people thinking of Chanel in the same way, always attracting this kind of woman or that kind of woman. I saw pictures of how the Chanel jacket was copied by other designers [which I will not name] over the years and I wanted to do something light, fresh, and most importantly, new."

It all made for a dazzling fresh [water] perspective, ever more so important given the world's current above-ground economic troubles. "I have in many ways a new life," Lagerfeld said. "And so should the Chanel woman."

With upswept hair ensconced in decorative shells, models strutted out from an opening in the massive jacket edifice onto a rotating runway wearing decidedly rounder jackets, along with skirts that, at first glance, appeared to have been seduced by the ocean waves. Super light fabrics were key to the collection, evident in the chiffon cocktail dresses that looked like they were whipped up with fresh clouds (of which a midnight blue version was to die for). Against the sunlight pouring into the Grand Palais, even the buttons radiated and sparkled.

The ocean floor, however, wasn't the only source of inspiration for Lagerfeld. While the backbone of the designs had an aquatic feel to them, they were trimmed with feathers and metallic pieces that had a decidedly urban mood to them. Together, it all just worked.

But ultimately, it was the jacket that held its own. Cast in both conservative shapes to appease a more mature clientele, but also reimagined in a romantic puffed-sleeve version, he managed to retain--while capturing--a new audience, or "fish," as he would say.

CHRISTIAN LACROIX
Watching a Christian Lacroix show is in many ways like being a kid in a candy store. Devouring every single bit is always an immediate reaction, and his couture show Tuesday, an utter delight in an otherwise run-of-the-mill week, was sweet enough to warrant a visit to the dentist. "Angel Passing By" was what the designer titled his glamour show at the Pompidou, chock full of sugar-coated and happy--not to mention Colorful! Colorful! Colorful!--fabrics, details, and silhouettes amassed from two years researching his own archives in preparation for his current exhibition at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs.

By no means were these designs child's play, however. They were a highly complex fusion of precise placement of pattern, print, and power, well researched and respectful of the history Lacroix commands. "It's French but seen through fifties American movies," he explained. Pinks and plaids collided with chiffons and encrusted lace, the results of which were like a smooth and satisfying daiquiri straight out of the blender. Empire waists were of the highest pursuit, and the joie de vivre was deafening.

Nearly every single element of this Patou-inspired show was perfect. The crinoline skirts that ballooned ever just so? Check. The utterly gorgeous canary yellow taffeta coat with cornflower blue trim? Check. And how about the crystal-encrusted tulle bands in the models' hair? You got it. Check.

As always, a brilliant sense of coloring evolved, from the corals and powder blues to the parrot green and fuchsia sprinkled liberally throughout lace, brocade, silks, and tulle. All the body shapes were there, from the ultra tall and lanky coat and long floor-dusting skirt to the out-of-control voluminous gowns and blousons--many of which featured a recurring black ribbon swimming about. Like at Dior, there was as much to see in the front as there was in the back; that, in its own right, is a marvel of achievement.

Some will be quick to point out that Lacroix's show wasn't groundbreaking in originality. But what counts, and what keeps his clients coming back for more, is the skill of hand and the sheer feeling of pomp and circumstance he generates through his clothes. Forget whispering; these clothes were meant for shouting from the highest hilltops.

In a way, it was the ultimate in sensory overload.

GIVENCHY
Riccardo Tisci is rapidly maturing as his tenure at Givenchy continues. Nowhere more evident than in his couture show Tuesday night, he seems to have finally found a lucid way to translate his confidence into a viable collection.

With his fellow couturier Valentino retiring this week, and others like Christian Lacroix, Jean Paul Gaultier, and Karl Lagerfeld for Chanel many years his senior, the fashion world is looking at Tisci to bring youth, strength, and a savoir-faire that has been somewhat dim of late. And that's precisely what he did.

Tisci divided his collection with various points of reference in his show notes, including such singular words as Swan, Penelope, and Pure, as well as alluding to a modern ballerina in various stages: Rehearsal, Ethereal, and Gothic, the last represented when house muse Mariacarla Boscono strutted out in a black silk radzmir jacket worn with an asymmetric trapeze-cut skirt, offset with a mille-feuille of white silk organza.

This was a digestible show that was easier to take in, as compared to Tisci's past attempts at securing an identity, and gave Givenchy a linear leg on which to stand.

In staying attuned to his clean lines and invigorating silhouettes, Tisci updated his dancer's continuity, mixing a jacket, pair of pants, and cocktail dress all done in glass beads with more romantic sheer tulle gowns. As is slowly becoming a signature at Givenchy, impeccably tailored equestrian-esque coats had a military vibe to them. One dark coat, "drill-set with plaques of gold," as Tisci called it, was a knockout.

He also incorporated elements of his last couture show, in particular the use of feathers--in one case, emu with a chalk-white gossamer silk bustier dress, in another, a skirt embroidered with ostrich, biot, goose, and coq, and finally, a draped jersey dress cast in a cloud of green, yellow, and beige ostrich feathers.

Overall, Tisci proved that he is capable of digging himself out of the conceptual graveyard that has haunted him in the past, and move forward. Let's hope his distinctive eye doesn't look back.