KEY POINTS:
I was thinking of the British Empire," explains Alexander McQueen, speaking from his London office. "Because we don't have one any more. Of course, it's not right for one nation to govern another, but I have no other mentality apart from a British mentality. We've lost our way as a nation at the moment, I think, and I wanted to unify myself with Britain throughout history, and to celebrate any heritage. The idea was to look at tradition as opposed to being anarchic."
From a designer usually associated with the avant-garde, the confrontational, the challenging, this proved to be more surprising than almost anything else McQueen might have put on his catwalk. And so, in place of the power-driven, rapacious heroine who normally inhabits McQueen's world, came "The Princess Who Lived in a Tree", a fairy-tale narrative of his own that acted as springboard for a collection that is as richly textured as it is unashamedly romantic.
Put briefly: said princess is a tree-dweller, putting her wardrobe together from scraps that other, more privileged souls leave behind. These are dark, naturally have a homespun, if ultimately sophisticated, appeal and draw on the ethereal and gothic signatures that are both by now an integral part of this designer's handwriting. It isn't long, though, before our princess meets her Prince Charming, at which point she descends from her treetop habitat and finds all the riches of the world at her disposal.
Her clothing, then, duly explodes into colour, referencing everything, from the wardrobe of the young Princess Elizabeth, crimson velvet New Look dresses and sweet ermine wraps to clothing printed with the Union Jack flag, to the palaces of the maharajas, a draped empire-line silhouette finished with paper-flat, bespoke embroidered slippers.
"Of course, you can go to India for inspiration, and I did do that," McQueen says, "but it occurred to me when I got back that all this cultural richness already exists around me. In Britain, we bring a stylistic view to culture that is unrivalled, and that goes for every culture, be it Indian, Arabic, African, whatever, all adapted to suit its surroundings. There's nowhere else like that in the world, and we are in the privileged position of not having to go travelling to find it."
If McQueen never slavishly follows trends, he is among a mere handful of designers in the world who are ahead of the game where that is concerned. It is worth noting the presence of more than a little costume jewellery in this collection, a new departure for him. And in this he was certainly not alone.
"Significantly, costume jewellery replaced bags as the must-have accessory," wrote the International Herald Tribune's Suzy Menkes in her review of Balenciaga's autumn/winter show. And on the Balenciaga catwalk, too, glittering clusters of crystal at throats and wrists was a sweetly sparkling aspect of a collection otherwise governed by austerity.
"We went to the archive and I found all that jewellery," says Nicolas Ghesquiere, Balenciaga's designer. "They seemed interesting to me because they are fake."
Some fashion history. Back in the day when ready-to-wear was but a twinkle in the fashion industry's eye, and women of style and, it almost goes without saying, considerable means, travelled to Paris for the twice-yearly haute-couture collections, clothes were shown with paste jewellery merely to demonstrate how the real thing might best be worn with the new season's designs.
"Of course, these women were very rich and had their own jewellery," Ghesquiere says, "so these pieces were there simply as a suggestion of how the jewellery might be worn."
If he goes on to say that the pieces in his current collection are "like those fake sushi in the windows of Japanese restaurants", this is only part of the story.
"Of course, the workmanship that went into their creation was extraordinary, but the stones, well, they're nothing," Ghesquiere says, "and I thought it was interesting to play with that."
Interesting and, it seems, more than a little significant in collections across the board, from Lanvin to Louis Vuitton, and from Hussein Chalayan to, well, Chanel, that house's namesake being the first to sell costume jewellery to her moneyed clientele. Chanel also wore it herself, mixing ropes of faux pearls, in particular, with the real McCoy and, as always, her intentions were at least partly pragmatic - such jewellery might be sold as a lucrative addition to the clothing line itself.
This is something of which today's designers are, clearly, only too aware. With the market in shoes and bags reaching saturation point, costume jewellery is a relatively new and fresh addition to any self-respecting brand's repertoire - and one that allows fashion's ephemeral nature to express itself at a price that won't necessitate the hiring of a permanent bodyguard to accompany Madam on her travels.
The last time costume jewellery enjoyed a moment in the sun was during the 1980s, when great diamante earrings and row upon row of jet beads or pearls were de rigueur to embellish a typically body-conscious outfit. And while any newfound interest isn't quite as obviously status-driven as it was then, it is certainly not a look aiming at anonymity. Instead, the motivation is very much one of standing out in a crowd.
The last word, with this in mind, goes to McQueen, never one to pay much heed to the shrinking violet: "Clothes and jewellery should be startling, individual. When you see a woman in my clothes, you want to know more about them," he says. "To me, that is what distinguishes good designers from bad designers."
- INDEPENDENT
