John Galliano for Christian Dior proves that the best dressed are undressed, but always with gloves and gorgeous hats by Stephen Jones

Paris Proposes Winter Haute Couture

My expectations for Paris Haute Couture are modest. To arrive without incident, to dodge downpours, to evade heat waves, and to find invitations waiting at my hotel.

Last July, the results were mixed. I set off an International Terror Alert at Heathrow Airport (a.k.a. Thief-row) because a couple of cutlery sets with rubber Lego handles set off the X-ray machine.

The fact that they were gift wrapped by the MOMA store at SFO aroused deep suspicion: clearly I was hiding, nay camouflaging, dangerous weapons, baby knives, and baby forks.

I refused to lego my Lego ($20 each set!), and it was touch and go as to whether I would be arrested by MI5 or merely miss my connection.

So, to Haute Couture winter 09/10, which was down to nine couturiers, four associate members, and about maybe ten smaller designers—the number kept changing as those invited to participate kept canceling.

Monday, July 6, started with a delightful presentation by Alber Elbaz at the Crillon—a tradition started eight years ago—to talk about his Lanvin cruise collection. The designer mused about whether the internet has made such events obsolete (no) and remarked that in spite of hard times he would continue using the best fabrics, the best weavers, the best accessory makers—because if he doesn’t, when the economy recovers, these suppliers may not be around.

Models showed the Lanvin “satellite” collections. Some buyers in New York misunderstood Alber and thought he was talking about “cellulite” collections.

John Galliano’s Dior, circa Irving Penn, was extraordinary, but each ensemble appeared to have just a little something missing. Sometimes it was the skirt; sometimes the top. We were treated to glimpses of exquisite underwear, roll-ons, suspender belts, stocking tops, bras, boned waspies. Just like your mother or grandmother (depending on your age) wore in the ’50s.

The show had moved back to the dove-gray Number 30 Avenue Montaigne, which had been trimmed with four thousand roses.

The hundred-twenty (give or take) couture clients will be relieved that Galliano’s vision of transparence will be modified with silk-lined skirts and jackets.

Another gorgeous but bittersweet show, at the salon des Boiseries in the Musée des Arts Décoratifs, was Christian Lacroix’s collection—very possibly his last.

The guest list had been slashed from 900 to 280. There was much wailing at the door, to no avail. The house of Lacroix is in receivership and one must hope a buyer emerges, though it is said, rather whispered, that since 1987, when the house was founded by LVMH, it has lost money.

There were many interpretations of the sombre dark colors, but the subdued collection was not due to the sadness, but instead, to fabrics that Christian Lacroix still had available in his atelier.

Embroiderers, feather suppliers, and shoe makers worked free.

At Chanel, couture clients from China, Korea, Brazil, Turkey, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan have supplanted Russians and Arabs in the Front Row.

Fifty years ago, Madame Claude’s best girls occupied the Front Row. Part of the most snobbish prostitution ring in Paris, skilled in all the arts, many “graduates” went on to marry world leaders. The Second Row was for those who were rich and less accomplished.

Giorgio Armani for Armani Privé has Red Carpet savvy

Karl Lagerfeld always captures the moment and knows exactly who his clients are and what they want. He greeted the South Korean actress and model Gianna Jun (Jun Ji-hyun) and the Chinese actress and singer Zhou Xun with great warmth.

The Chanel cheongsam silhouettes and floating panels will surely please this market. The rest can shed the panels and have perfect suits and evening dresses.

On June 22, 2009, President Nicolas Sarkozy said the burqa is a “sign of subservience” and not welcome on French soil.

In 2004, France banned Muslim headscarves—not a popular move with the five million Muslims in France.

On July 7, 2009, the Italian Ricardo Tisci was clearly aiming for the Arab market. Under the watchful eyes of mama and many Tisci sisters, burqas and other traditional Muslim garb, including veils, ran rampant on the Givenchy Haute Couture runway.

Jean Paul Gaultier returned to Hollywood, via his archives, and paid homage to the stars of the forties: Jean Harlow, Mae West, Veronica Lake, Rita Hayworth.

Guests included Kylie Minogue, who sat in front of me, and I can attest to her perfect complexion; Mickey Rourke, less flawless, was asked to stand at the back.

At Giorgio Armani’s Armani Privé, guest of honor was Cate Blanchett, who followed every romantic (’80s) outfit with a gimlet eye. Plenty of good stuff for the Red Carpet.

Eli Saab must be congratulated for producing ultra luxe clothing in the mountains of his war-torn country, Lebanon. The all white, all a-glitter collection was all right with his loyal ladies.

Valentino without Valentino Garavani was better than the last show. But anyone who has seen Matt Tyrnauer’s film, Valentino: The Last Emperor, must wonder not if, but when, the little emperor will return. Poor Grazia Chiuri and Pier Paolo Piccoli are indeed piccoli designers compared to the tiny Valentino.

A few seasons ago I stopped going to On Aura Tout Vu because the collections were full of silly gimmicks. This season, braving the weather in the gardens of the Palais Royale and avoiding the shower that arrived soon after the show was over, designers Livia S. Stoinova, Yassen V. Samouilov, and André de sà Passoa showed an exquisite collection.

Well worth checking out, and anyone with money for Couture will find the prices sweeter than Dior or Chanel.

The last word goes to Camilla Morton, John Galliano’s great friend who was the one checking and deadheading the four thousand roses before the Dior shows and administering to John’s needs between shows, as well as working during the night fittings; alas, at the time of writing, Camilla has contracted swine flu, the first fashionista to be felled by the contagious pigs.

“It is as gruesome as the papers say,” she informed me. “I have been in bed ten days now!”

On September 10, The Academy of Art University School of Fashion will participate in Fashion’s Night Out at Neiman-Marcus. Gladys Perint Palmer will exhibit twenty drawings from the July Haute Couture.