As you hurtle around Paris, there are a multitude of advertisements for Jonathan Anderson’s latest Loewe collection. I began to notice them – with their monumental Meisel images of Raquel Zimmermann awash with pastels – as soon as I left the Eurostar. I’m not sure what they cost, all those hoardings. But they’re doing their job. It made me think a lot about Loewe, about what Anderson is doing there, and how it’s making everything else look old.
Pre-collections are collections too: last resorts from Stella McCartney, Lanvin, Balenciaga and JW Anderson
Fashion is demanding. Especially now we’re working on a four-season system instead of two. That’s my take-away thus far from the pre-collections. Actually, let’s stop that ridiculous terminology straight away. If Nicolas Ghesquiere’s excellent show last month in Monaco proved anything, it was that pre-collections are collections too.
Last night was the Met Gala, celebrating the opening of the exhibition Charles James: Beyond Fashion. It’s lauded as the east coast equivalent to the Oscars: but compare the Met’s media reach to the Oscars, which pulled in 48 million television viewers from the USA alone, and it pales.
Then again, the Oscars is, ostensibly, about more than just frocks. It’s about prizes, about ambitions thwarted and dreams fulfilled. The Met Gala is about fund-raising. Never forget that. It’s a giant charity lunch, gussied up in fancy clothing. Last year, Gwyneth Paltrow said it “sucked”. Our attention, and the media hullabaloo, is all about the (cat)walk to the event, not the event itself.
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