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July 25 2014

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7 posts tagged "Sarah Mower"

ChloĆ©’s Got That London Attitude

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Pixie Geldof and Clare Waight KellerConsidering the British imprint on the French house, it makes perfect sense that Chloé launched its sixty-year retrospective book, Chloé Attitudes, in London. “Chloé’s had this great succession of cool, young British designers,” Sarah Mower said at last night’s party at the new Serpentine Sackler Gallery. “They are not pretentious and they don’t talk about great lofty inspirations and references. They just talk about what we want, what girls want to wear. That’s really Chloé.”

Succinct, given Mower was tasked with writing the text for the tome. The fete drew such guests as Eliza Doolittle, Damien Hirst, Pixie Geldof (armed with her own Chloé bag), and the label’s creative director, Clare Waight Keller.

“Chloé has always stood for beautiful femininity,” said Waight Keller, who often turns to the house’s archives for inspiration. “But it’s been interesting to realize there has been surrealism, graphicness…there are other facets to the Chloé girl that aren’t always so evident.”

Published by Rizzoli, with art direction by industry legend Marc Ascoli, Chloé Attitudes delves deep into the house’s history. As Mower described it, “It’s a detective story, because there was no real archive for years.” Dating from its founding in 1952, the book draws on Chloé’s rich collaborations with groundbreaking photographers like Helmut Newton, Guy Bourdin, and Patrick Demarchelier.

Ascoli and Mower spoke of finding the common denominator through designers such as Karl Lagerfeld, Stella McCartney, and Phoebe Philo. Waight Keller said it’s simply “an attitude,” but Mower went further: “It’s really an optimistic spirit. It has always been about capturing the spirit of the times, how girls have changed with the times, and what they want at the moment. There’s a feminist thread throughout.” Judging by the evening’s crowd, dressed in Chloé’s greatest hits, the house is still hitting the nail on the head. Of the girls, by the girls, and for the girls—that’s fashion democracy in action.

Photo: Getty Images

In New York, Young London Calling

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It’s surely a coincidence—right?—that the first day the London Showrooms and its clutch of young designers hit New York, so did a blast of rainy, London weather.

It didn’t stop the mass of editors who came for the Showrooms’ press viewing at the Soho Grand yesterday, where Mary Katrantzou, Holly Fulton, Michael van der Ham, J.W. Anderson, and more of the city’s up-and-comers (and their collections) were holding court. No surprise to find a crush at the penthouse suite. Interest in British fashion feels greater than at any time in recent memory. “I feel like London’s been an emerging talent itself for such a long time and I think it finally felt like it emerged,” said the day’s hostess, Sarah Mower, the British Fashion Council’s ambassador for emerging talent. “There’s been a real coming together, a critical mass of talented people who have been working away quietly and methodically for such a long time. Suddenly we had really strong collections from Meadham Kirchhoff [above], Mary Katrantzou, Christopher Kane, Erdem; they look mature now—they’re proper small businesses who people are really taking notice of…there’s a buzz with substance behind it in town.”

Katrantzou agreed. “I got a feeling that with some people, something clicked, and it was very real,” she said of the response to her Fall show (left). “They came to the showroom and you felt that it was very positive—I was amazed to feel that response.” Her koi-pond print pieces and fleurette-dotted dresses remain showpieces, but Katrantzou also expanded into knitwear this season, an especial boon for retailers. “It brings a completely different story for people to buy into,” she explained.

Men’s designer Tim Soar was also celebrating a season of firsts: his first full womenswear collection, with menswear-inspired pieces, like a raw-edged tuxedo jacket and a blocked, backless dress that had begun life as men’s suiting separates. In its first season, the line has already been picked up by some of London’s best stores. Looking at his covetable leathers, like a long, black leather skirt and a fur-collared varsity jacket, it wasn’t hard to imagine why.

Holly Fulton’s Coco Chanel-in-Scotland-inspired collection was also on display, with bright red lip prints not only appearing on silk maxi dresses and printed pants, but also on oversized enamel earrings. Fulton is working on a new project, she whispered, one that transcends the fashion sphere—her graphic prints being especially adaptable to such things—but wouldn’t say more for the moment.

Jonathan Anderson of J.W. Anderson—another menswear designer who recently added women’s to his repertoire—was exciting special attention as well. (Mower singled him out as especially promising among the new guard.) His paisley-print tops (left) and angora knits—long dresses for women, cropped sweaters for men—were exciting in a kind of loony, late-sixties way. His collection looks modern, but as Mower pointed out, Anderson, like many of his compatriots, is using older techniques and long-established craftsmen; his outerwear, for example, is made by the same factory that makes jackets for the English gunmakers Purdey and Sons. Meadham Kirchhoff, showing in a room across the penthouse, sources English-made Linton tweed (the same tweed, incidentally, Coco Chanel herself used to use). “One thing I’m really excited to see is that all this great production is being done in the U.K. It’s really precious to all of this generation that things are made by craftspeople near home,” Mower said. “Without being tub-thumping about sustainability and the rest of it—that’s [just] what’s close to them.”

Photos: Courtesy of the BFC

London’s On Fire

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The fire trucks were summoned to Ciano in New York City’s Flatiron district—site of last night’s cocktails, hosted by Ed Westwick and Georgia May Jagger (left) for up-and-coming London designers—by a small fire in a wood-burning oven. The firemen had it under control in a matter of moments, but they didn’t seem to want to leave. Must’ve been all the pretty young things—Hanneli Mustaparta in Todd Lynn and Byrdie Bell in Holly Fulton, included—at the party. The British Fashion Council’s co-chief executive, Caroline Rush, was even spotted posing for pictures with a ladder truck for a backdrop. But it hasn’t been all play and no work for the Londoners. From the sound of it, they’ve been selling like crazy down at the Soho Grand this week. “What makes London different is there’s such a sense of camaraderie and creative vitality amongst these designers—it gives them the confidence to do what each of them want to do, and not worry if their things are different from everybody else’s. That’s why we have such colorful originals as Meadham Kirchhoff, Louise Gray, Mary Katrantzou, and Michael van der Ham,” Vogue‘s Sarah Mower said. Thanks to the showroom appointments here and in Paris, she tells us, sales to international retailers have gone up by 50 percent over three seasons.

Photo: Jim Spellman / WireImage / Getty Images

Ash Cloud Or Not, The Acne Party Must Go On

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Contingency plans in case of volcanic eruption are scarcely the stuff of everyday life in London, but events in Iceland inspired knock-on ingenuity as airports across northern Europe were closed by a drifting ash cloud yesterday. Harrods fashion director Marigay McKee mentioned a friend who’d hailed a black cab outside Heathrow to get him to his skiiing holiday in Salzburg on time. (That’s a two-day drive, BTW.) She was co-hosting a party to celebrate the opening of a new Acne boutique in Harrods with Acne CEO Mikael Schiller. He’d flown in from Sweden just ahead of the cloud, but the rest of the Acne team weren’t so lucky; they stayed stranded in Stockholm. Still, the party at the boutique and the dinner afterward at Mr. Chow didn’t disappoint. Schiller declared that an in-store in Harrods fulfilled a longtime ambition for the little company that could. (He also remembered an earlier moment in Acne’s relationship with the retailer, when they had to come up with a convincing acronym to explain why the company was named, to English ears at least, after a pimple.) Sarah Mower, Gabriele Hackworthy, model-turned-designer Ben Grimes, Acne Film’s Rikard Svensson, Acne Paper‘s Duncan Campbell, and Acne communications director Anthony Kendal’s posse of Australian billionairesses helped fête guest of honor Husam El Odeh, the London artisan whose jewelry is one of the city’s small, seductive pleasures. He has created little shields of silver for the thighs, knees, calves, and back pockets of a pair of Acne jeans. Tron-like articulation is right on trend with the movie remake on its way, but the notion of any added protection may prove equally timely if Eyjafjallajökull continues to blow.

Photo: Courtesy of Acne

McQueen, The Showman

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Eighteen months ago, Sarah Mower sat down with Alexander McQueen to discuss one of the most remarkable aspects of his work: the staging of his shows. Below, in the designer’s own words, is the thinking behind those extraordinarily intense productions, prefaced by Mower’s reflections on their lasting power.

Everyone lucky enough to have been invited to his shows from the beginning of his career—as I was—is eternally indebted to Alexander McQueen for immersing us in experiences that have burned themselves on our memories for life. From his earliest days in London—on virtually no budget except what could be raised in sponsorship—he made the near-impossible happen before our very eyes. Walk in and sit down, and the sights that unfolded would hit your brain in such a visceral way that it knocked the breath out of you, sent adrenaline streaming through your veins and chills shooting up your spine.

Many well-deserved homages will be written to his incredible cutting and the couture-level romanticism of his dresses, and the fact that his “bumsters” forced women into low-rise pants for more than a decade. I admire all that fully. But for me, the truly unique and indelible side of Lee McQueen’s talent is what he did with his shows—transforming production, with the help of music-video producer Sam Gainsbury, from being a boring old formulaic trot up and down a runway into an experience that went beyond fashion into the realms of a theatrical, emotional, psychological assault.

Gainsbury could orchestrate almost anything, no matter how extreme, to McQueen’s demands, which almost always contained something threateningly elemental—fire, water, ice, flying, wild animals. One show had models dancing in a ring of blazing asphalt, like a vision of hell. Another had girls walking through water, some of them clamped into metal box frames with live butterflies fluttering in them. Once, the audience turned up at a pitch-dark warehouse and found he’d installed a winter wonderland, complete with a frosted forest, frozen pond, to watch a troupe of girl skaters perform an oddly spooky routine. After inviting us to the dungeons of the Conciergerie in Paris, he petrified the front row by sending a pair of wolves, straining on leashes, to sniff along our knees.

At the beginning, all this magic, terror, and spectacle took place in some dump of a place in Victoria in London that was used for the overnight parking of municipal garbage trucks; later, in more sophisticated venues around Paris. Always, no matter how annoying and difficult he’d made it to get there, or how late it ran, your pulse rate was raised by the anticipation that something disturbing, beautiful, and utterly unpredictable could be about to suck you into its vortex.

Sometimes it would be elegiac, poetic, and moving: dancers painfully dragging themselves around in a show based on They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?, or an exquisitely subtle historical rendering of the colonial splendors of Victoria’s empire. And sometimes, it turned out he’d be harnessing technology in shocking and amazing ways: Shalom Harlow being spray-painted by car-factory robots, or later, the image of Kate Moss floating out of a wisp of smoke and dancing before us in thin air.

Yesterday, I was looking at a photo of that show and what struck me is the pure rapture and amazement on the faces of the audience. Every face in every row is wreathed in smiles. It is for that—the serial outbreaks of delight and astonishment in the ephemeral moment—that all of us in fashion should thank Alexander McQueen most. Eighteen months ago, I sat down with him at a shoot in London (in an underground Masonic temple, where he’d had live snakes writhing over a naked model, much as in his current ad campaign) and recorded his memories about the shows, controversies, and unsurpassable fashion highs that made his extraordinary career. As a tribute to McQueen’s genius, I can offer nothing better than his own words.

On why he loved doing shows:
“I like blowing people’s minds. It’s a buzz. Like a fix, for 20 minutes. I like the spontaneity of doing it there and then. We broke the mold by not using the fashion-show-production people. I found Sam Gainsbury, who’d been doing pop video. So it became more cinematic.”

On the real motivation behind his controversial Highland Rape collection, which caused an outrage in 1996:
“At the time, I was finding out so much about my heritage. My mum was researching our family tree and traced the McQueens back to Skye and the Mull of Kintyre. I learned about the Highland clearances—it was genocide. People still feel strongly about it up there.”

On feminist outrage against his work:
“For the first six, seven years, I was always up against people who didn’t understand. People wrote that I was a misogynist and crap like that. How can I be a misogynist growing up with three sisters? That was tedious.”

On why he came up with “bumsters”:
“It was an art thing, to change the way women looked, just by cut, to make a longer torso. But I was taking it to an extreme. The girls looked quite menacing, because there was so much top and so little bottom, because of the length of legs. That was the concept, nothing to do with a ‘builder’s bum.’”

On having Shalom Harlow spray-painted by robots:
“It was my best show, that moment with Shalom! That combination of arts and crafts with technology—that weird unison between man and machine. I remember doing the tests with Katy England before. The insurance was a million pounds that day—a stupid amount! We got the machines from Fiat in Italy, where they’re used for painting cars. And now they’ve ripped it off in a TV commercial, haven’t they? You find a lot of ideas from my shows in adverts now. I find it a compliment.”

On The Overlook, a show on ice:
“Oh, there have been some right old moments! That show, I had Miguel Adrover chucking more and more snow into the wind machine, with me shouting, ‘More snow, more, more! I want it to be like a snow-shaker!’”

On a New York show on Pier 49, held the night a hurricane hit:
“God, I had such a nightmare. All the New Yorkers had been told to stay home. I was on the phone to Mayor Giuliani’s secretaries, in one of my tantrum rages, because he was going to cancel the show for me. I said, ‘Well, you give me the half a million, and I’ll cancel it. But I’m not wasting any of my money—the show’s going on no matter what!’ And that was aside from the technical difficulties. I’d done the walking-on-water thing before in London, so this time I wanted it to be oil, some sort of crude oil. Amie, my PR, phoned up and asked her dad, who works for BP, and he said, ‘What? You’ll kill everyone, it’s so toxic!’ So we thought we’d use some sort of glue. But they wouldn’t give us clearance, because: Where were we going to dump it after? You can’t dump it in the Hudson. So it had to be black water with dye in. Poor Sam Gainsbury!”

The truth about the Conciergerie wolves:
“It was kind of Tim Burton, about little girls, a macabre Walt Disney kind of thing. And I had Little Lilac Riding Hood, with the wolves, but the wolves were her pets! Were they wolves? Ha! Mixed breed, I think. Half wolf, half mongrel.”
See video of the show >

On the Asylum collection, where he forced the audience to sit and confront its reflection in a mirrored box for an hour before the show:
“Ha! I was really pleased about that. I was looking at it on the monitor, watching everyone trying not to look at themselves. It was a great thing to do in the fashion industry—turn it back on them! God, I’ve had some freaky shows.”

On the chessboard runway he created for his Picnic at Hanging Rock show:
“The concept was kind of Edwardian girls lost somewhere. It came about through Harry Potter, when he was doing a chess game in the film, and I thought we’d reinvent the chess game and distinguish the chess sets by changing the nationality of each row. The Japanese and the Americans faced each other. We had to get the girls off the runway, so what did we do? Have a chess match, with a robotic voice dictating the moves.”
See pictures and video from the show >

On the psychology behind his work:
“There is something sinister, something quite biographical about what I do—but that part is for me. It’s my personal business. I think there is a lot of romance, melancholy. There’s a sadness to it, but there’s romance in sadness. I suppose I am a very melancholy person.”

On going to Buckingham Palace to receive his Commander of the British Empire award from the Queen, accompanied by his mother, Joyce:
“Why they gave me that, I don’t understand—because I wrote, ‘I am a c–t,’ on the queen’s son’s jacket! I was dressed up like a right old banana in a kilt. I had this bloody hat with a feather in it, a big old bonnet, with a hangover. I’d been up at Annabel’s and Claridge’s all night; I was right frazzled. And my mum had me turning up in a Bentley—a right old ‘nana! Thanks, Queenie! It was a funny day, but worth it. My mum loved it.”

See our archive of Alexander McQueen’s collections >

Photo: Ken Towner / Evening Standard / Rex / Rex USA