Dior Homme, Balmain, Hermès AW16 report Paris menswear

Big brands, big questions on the penultimate day of the Paris shows

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Dior Homme

On this grey afternoon in January, what is the reality of Christian Dior right now? For the fashion industry, it is fractured and incomplete, still without a replacement for Raf Simons, who quit as artistic director in October 2015. In two days’ time, it will present a couture collection created by the unnamed design team. Today, it’s men’s creative director Kris Van Assche showed his Autumn/Winter 2016 collection for Dior Homme. But really, in the mind of the general public, does anything Dior shows on the catwalk actually matter?

Outside our industry bubble, Dior is the smooth-sailing ship of luxury. The image of the brand is far from the catwalk. Take the most recent commercials for Dior fragrances, which were on heavy rotation in the run up to Christmas. These adverts rely on celebrity — Charlize Theron, Johnny Depp. Their styling or mood has nothing whatsoever to do with what appears on the Dior catwalk, either for men or women. In the minds of a majority of consumers, celebrity-as-aspiration is what Dior means today.

And so, in our bubble, the industry gathered for the latest Dior Homme show. It was at its best when it was at its simplest. A camel coat came with a well cut shape. A sweater of differing Fair Isle patterns was desirable. A two-button black single-breasted suit looked neat from the front. From the side, the shoulder padding could be seen pressing through the top of the sleeve. Other suits crinkled like a concertina when the models walked. More precision, better quality was needed.

The catwalk was a vast, wooden parquet floor crammed with skate ramps that were trimmed in red neon. It looked like a rejected set from the dance battle movie Step Up. The collection was about how skate kids of yore grow into the luxury consumers of today. It’s a reality for many a male thirty or forty-something shopper. Just go into Supreme on a Saturday afternoon to see the true age of some of its customers. Yet on the Dior Homme catwalk, the effect was a little too cautious: a trenchcoat worn with a skater bobble cap, a black hoodie embroidered with a white rose. A pair of tight white jeans with a black rose print should not have been let on the catwalk.

Dior finds itself in an interesting situation. Are its catwalk designers truly important to the brand? Should they be given wider creative control than just the collection? Compare Dior with a brand of similar global recognition: Apple. Everything about Apple is unified, with the same language, same taste. Shouldn’t this also be the case for Dior in the 21st century?

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Balmain

At Balmain, it was all frock coats, great coats, officers coats, frogging. A high percentage of the clothing was encrusted in crystal. It was like the BBC had decided to make its current production of War and Peace more LOL. The menswear season in Paris has been all about humility, quietness. Balmain was about brashness, extravagance. Is it wrong to say it was really fun?

It was certainly audacious. Let’s take a look at random. A midnight blue double breasted velvet jacket had gold embroidered epaulettes, cuffs and lapels. The jacket was belted with a wide quilted cummerbund, held with leather thronging trimmed with long tassels. It was worn with red joggers and knee high riding boots. Casual!

The show had energy and conviction. 30-year-old creative director Olivier Rousteing puts his all into this work. In terms of sales, the brands trajectory so far has been remarkable. Can it retain its speed? Most brands are future-proofing with an air of sobriety. It was refreshing to see unashamed, youthful, unflappable optimism.

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Hermès

At Hermès, a gentleman sat down next to me and said hello. He asked my name and what I did, and then said his name was Bob Wilson. OK keep calm.

There followed some questioning to work out if he was who I thought he was. Why was he here? He said they’d invited him. No use. What did he do? He was best known for his work in the theatre . . . 

I cut the director Robert Wilson off. I told him he had changed my life. A revival of his Paris production of The Magic Flute in 2005 was the first time I understood opera. I can remember scenes from it still today. I’d watch Einstein on The Beach once a month if I could. What an honour to meet and talk with such a man, and what a classy label to invite him.

When the show started, I tried to keep the rose-tinted spectacles off. I was in a glow, but this is said without bias — it was a great collection, neatly summarising the current menswear mood. Soft tailoring, double-breasted coats, zip-up blousons, fine knits. In the whole collection, not one single tie. Here, pops of colour felt light, like a turquoise peacoat, or a great knit with strips of different-coloured pattern, one with checks, another mini trophies, running across another some racehorses. The show finished, we clapped. I had to run but I turned to say goodbye. We shook hands. Thank you, Mr Wilson, thank you.