This was what fall collections were meant for: a show on the terrace of University Pierre et Marie Curie’s Jussieu campus, a med school, on a morning so bitingly chilly that imminent medical intervention seemed not out of the question. Funnily enough we were at the same spot where we once endured what seemed the hottest menswear show ever, an Issey Miyake—but this was the opposite first world problem.
Our breaths plumed up in luxuriant whorls of steam, like cigarette smoke. Fingers clattered numbly against smartphones. The matcha tea on offer was practically frozen by the time we tipped it to our lips. Those who had got the memo came extra-layered: those who did not swathed themselves in the blankets left on the benches. Had the spectacle that followed not proved so engrossing it could have become a hoo-ha. But Christophe Lemaire and Sarah-Linh Tran shaped a mesmerizing mise-en-scene—more mammothly cast cinema production than fashion show—that demanded your burning attention.
“We are always interested in showing our style in a situation that is not a conventional fashion show,” said Lemaire. “We are very much inspired by cinema, music, and people on the street—we are always trying to find a balance between reality and something elevated.” That aspiration translated into a show the transformed the runway into a concourse in some public space. The first look, a female model in a typically swathing dark khaki coat, crossed in front of us—walking urgently as if determined to get to work before her boss and finish some dread task—before disappearing into an elevator. Then, from both left and right, more models arrived, walking in couples, alone in contemplation, in chattering groups. One guy ran, halted, and ran again, as if in search of a pickpocket he’d only just realized had snatched his billfold. A woman all in gathered black—roomy pants, heeled boots, and a short trench with a large pouch-like bag tucked at her right hip— leaned against a pillar and waited. Soon enough a guy moved in to make conversation.
A bit confusingly for a fashion show, the same looks (and models) reappeared in different roles, as if we were watching time-lapse footage. But the format effectively delivered the message that this was a collection that could function admirably in real-life. From the bird-whistle neck charms and the torch key chains, onto the Croissant bags and those body-hugging pouches, through to the pieces printed with instinctively psychedelic artwork by returning collaborator Noviadi Angkasapura, to the new-but-retro padded garments (perfect for today), there was a crowd of worn elements to watch and admire. Especially enjoyable amid all the usual black and khaki were the meanders into richly dark green, unusual especially in menswear.
As per, the fullness, the drape, and the silhouettes were exactingly crafted to transport you—just like the show format—to some imagined Paris between the 1960s and now where every citizen was the star in their own impeccably costumed and doubtless emotionally complex movie. Cold, but beautiful—hence very French.
