If one had to define the spirit of
The Row
, it would be a grungy soul in a universe of luxury and voluptuousness.
Admittedly, the association seems contradictory, but faced with this parade next winter located in the Parisian offices of the Haussmann-style refined label, one cannot help but think of Kurt Cobain in a cashmere cardigan on edge.
To the poetry that emanated from this character who certainly loves torn jeans, but also the beautiful fabrics that have lived.
Like these girls with bare skin, hair barely held back by a black elastic, in Prince of Wales trousers with a subtly frayed hem.
No detail, zip, logo disturbs the silhouette.
A suit jacket incised in the back reveals just one button.
Others have the shoulder and sleeves cut out and then "reassembled".
Inspired by the military wardrobe,
the mottled wools of the coats are exceptional.
An olive green leather overcoat meets a simple (and sublime) Weimar gray trench.
The strange ballerina flats in glazed calfskin, the tabis and the dirty canvas tennis shoes give the answer to the huge shopping bags in ostrich.
Swirling felt hats are reminiscent of Greta Garbo's in
Ninotchka
.
It's beautiful.
The Row.
The Row
Kurt Cobain wore
Dries Van Noten
wonderfully .
He liked the aged colors, the weathered fabrics, the very personal overlays.
Like him, many women have maintained this intimate relationship with the designer's clothes since his beginnings almost forty years ago.
The Flemish, although the grandson of a tailor, has a knack for making technique disappear in favor of emotion and a delicacy from another time.
His mastery of the sartorial art (always his perfect jackets, barely oversized or gathered at the waist, whose English wool is sometimes adorned with gold leaf) gives muscle to his fragile silhouettes which seem to be made of patchwork of old silks, to the graceful Chinese motifs or hand-painted faded flowers…
On Wednesday afternoon, in the Sports Palace, only the central stands are occupied by buyers, journalists and DVN lovers.
In front of them, the stage where stands a battery (which the thirty-year-old Lander Gyselinck, little genius of Flemish jazz will come to strike) and a huge mirror reflecting the room.
In the back of the guests, the mannequins go down the spans.
The rhythm of the percussions, the long procession are hypnotizing.
If they sometimes evoke the outdated allure of the 1920s, others, the profile of the 1940s or even some, the nonchalance grunge of the 1990s, the ultra-desirable pieces speak of our time, whether they are "statement" ( brocade wedge boots), or “casual” (perfect wide velvet pants).
Dries' subtle styling can be seen in this unbuttoned straight skirt that reveals an underdress.
Aged golds, bronzes, rosewood and green silk threads embroidered on a jacket renew the fall color chart.
The note of intent speaks
“the pleasure of fabrics and the life they take on over the years;
cherished, used, repaired and brought up to date”
.