Photo The Givenchy fashion show, held on Pier 26. Credit Lucas Jackson/Reuters
On Sept. 11, as the sun set over the Hudson and bathed 1 World Trade Center in silver and rose, Givenchy held a fashion show on Pier 26, on the far western edges of TriBeCa, in the shadows of the skyline.
The decision, when first announced, seemed tone deaf.
After all, fashion, especially very expensive fashion, with its implied frivolity and self-indulgence (and self-aggrandizement) is generally seen as occupying the opposite ex treme from tragedy and sacrifice. To juxtapose the two was to invite public opprobrium. Especially because Givenchy is based in Paris and had come to New York to celebrate the opening of a new temple to consumption (i.e., store), as well as the designer Riccardo Tisci's 10th anniversary at the label.
And yet, after an hour's wait, and assorted celebrity entrances (Julia Roberts, Nicki Minaj, Kim and Kanye, Ciara, etc.), what ensued demonstrated, as gracefully as anything I have ever witnessed, the power of fashion to reflect history and shared experience; to weave it, literally, into the garments we all wear; and to find beauty in its future — six months hence, and beyond.
Against a set by the artist Marina Abramovic composed of recycled wood and aluminum siding, surrounded by performance artists on elevated platforms who moved in slow motion through ritualistic poses (a couple embracing; a woman baptized under a cascade of water), to the strains of chants from multiple cultures and religions, Mr. Tisci offered an extended meditat ion on black and white.
Nominally the subject was lingerie-meets-tuxedo dressing, masculine and feminine, but on a more abstract level it was oppositions, good and evil, and the endless choices we face in these areas every day.
Continue reading the main story Slide Show Givenchy: Spring 2016 RTW CreditGuillaume Roujas/NOWFASHION
Liquid black trousers came with exacting crepe cutaways or silk kimono jackets and shirts blossomed and flowed underneath. Lace was mixed with athletic mesh was mixed with chiffon was mixed with pearls (and actual men's wear was mixed in, too, as was Mr. Tisci's own historic couture), and slipdresses were intricately webbed and layered. Mr. Tisci has a tendency to aggression in his clothes -– to hard edges and heavy metal -– but this season it was nowhere in evidence. In its place was an elegiac elegance that never presumed.
When the final parade came out to the strains of "Ave Maria" and just past the pier the beams of the Tribute in Light shot through the clouds, it felt not like heresy, but reconciliation. A standard had been s et for the way emotional and aesthetic content could coexist.
That's not to say every fashion show needs to have the same impact, or even can. That would be both exhausting and overwhelmingly pretentious. Not every shift dress must touch the soul. But they do need to feel relevant: to the broader world, the female balancing act, the armory of our own self-doubts and insecurities.
Sometimes this connection is pretty straightforward, as in Public School's monochromatic pajama party: silk bathrobe coats and trenches layered over sleeveless loose (and louche) housedresses over languid trousers, sometimes in PJ stripes or abstract feather prints, sometimes adorned with anorak-easy drawstrings, always paired with flat, rubber-tread hiker sa ndals. Because really, who doesn't just want to roll out of bed in the morning and get going?
Photo Public School, spring 2016. Credit Casey Kelbaugh for The New York Times
Sometimes it's overly literal, as in Derek Lam's single-minded dedication to the power of 1970s chic and the Western myth, from denim flares to poplin shirtdresses and knit vests, earthy suedes and cold-shouldered Gypsy rocker frocks (though lace sundresses benefited from a bit of abstraction). And sometimes it's personal, as in Victoria Beckham's bicoastal Manhattan-meets-Carmel crepe picnic plaid culottes with matching tunics, her crinkled duchesse satins with hip buckle and color block surf-print trapeze shifts.
Photo Derek Lam, spring 2016. Credit Neilson Barnard/Getty Images
Ms. Beckham began her career trapped in the stereotype of a pop star-turned designer and her early dresses — tight, zipped, vacuum-packed from neck to knee — reflected that. The relaxed lines and pop colors of the current collection indicate the confidence of someone who no longer needs to protest so much. Who wouldn't want to relate?
Photo Victoria Beckham, spring 2016. Credit Jennifer S. Altman for The New York Times
Just as Joseph Altuzarra's twisted linen shirtdresses, his dip-dyed seaside crepes and crinkled silks, the bright brass toggles and rope closures of a quasi-nautical jumpsuit and the iridescent mother-of-pearl buttons mixed with wooden seed pearls on everything from black crepe tunics to broderie anglaise sheaths, provided a desirable, if understated, solution to the question of how to have your summer and adult authority too.
Continue reading the main story Slide Show Altuzarra: Spring 2016 RTW CreditRegis Colin Berthelier/NOWFASHION
By contrast, Alexander Wang's collection was a much darker affair. Held the evening after the Givenchy spectacle, it also celebrated a 10th anniversary, of Mr. Wang's business, was likewise held on a Pier, and likewise included men's wear.
But from the merch stand selling Wang sweats and tees at the entrance (half the proceeds to the charity Do Something, which supports "youth and social change") to the vodka bar to the pole dancers featured at the after-party, this was aimed at an entirely different kind of sartorial tribe: the kind that likes shredded denim with their bustiers, boxing glove lacing on their tank dresses, motocross leathers with their ribbed cotton undershirts, and cropped Army jackets over their low-slung men� �s trou.
Continue reading the main story Slide Show Alexander Wang: Spring 2016 RTW CreditGio Staiano/NOWFASHION
Mr. Wang is about to wrap up a three-year stint doing double duty at his label and the Parisian house of Balenciaga. Though in recent collections the experience in a couture atelier had seemed to push him toward more intricate and decorative explorations at his own label, this was an aggressive statement to the contrary: an affirmation of his roots in the haute street-style movement and an in-your-face refusal to bow to the tyranny of the exquisite.
It wasn't refined. It wasn't nuanced. It referenced the tropes of "cool" in an obvious hipster way (though a green ribbed undershirt with silver link straps — the same strap on the bags slung across the body — was broadly terrific). But it was nevertheless a clear staking of a diff erent kind of New York territory; a reminder that brash self-confidence and an unexamined faith in forward momentum is also what built, and continues to build, this city.
Wear it and don't weep.
