Invisible man of fashion

Tag : Warehouse Coats
In early spring, The New York Times's influential style biannual, Tmagazine, ran a feature extolling the Belgian designer MartinMargiela. ''Even after 20 years in the business, Martin Margiela isstill the most elusive figure in fashion,'' it read, ''which mightexplain why designers feel so free to thumb through his archivesfor inspiration''.
In an unprecedented move, this brief and unusually direct text wasillustrated by five catwalk outfits courtesy of Marc Jacobs, AFVandevorst, Junya Watanabe, Hermes and Prada, above which wereprinted images of the Margiela originals that had clearly, well,let's just say ''inspired'' their work.
Only months previously, in September 2007, a by-now legendary spatoccurred between Jacobs and the International Herald Tribune'sfashion editor, Suzy Menkes, again concerning the determinedlypress-shy designer. Jacobs, the darling of the New York fashioncircuit, had kept his star-studded audience waiting two hoursbefore starting his spring/summer show, and Menkes was not amused.When her review appeared, it was far from favourable. Not only hadJacobs been late even to the point of unfashionable, wrote Menkes,but his show was derivative, relying rather too heavily on thearchive of Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garons and, even more so,Martin Margiela.
Never one to let things lie, Jacobs responded immediately, tellingthe industry bible Women's Wear Daily: ''I've never denied howinfluenced I am by Margiela or by Rei Kawakubo, those are peoplethat inspire my work. I don't hide that ... Everyone is influencedby Comme des Garcons and by Martin Margiela''.
The people at Comme des Garcons sent Jacobs flowers. Margiela,meanwhile, said nothing, did nothing. Because if Kawakubo isfamously difficult to pin down, Margiela is fashion's invisibleman. It is undoubtedly true that his ideas inform some of theworld's most powerful talents, but he feels no need to acknowledgeany referencing personally.
Since he started out, in 1988, the designer has never agreed to asingle interview or been photographed for any magazine, howeverrespected the title. One could be forgiven for thinking thatMargiela is a figment of the industry's imagination, and that'sjust fine by him. Suffice it to say Margiela makes Greta Garbo looklike Victoria Beckham.
In March 1997, in Paris for the ready-to-wear shows, I arrived atmy hotel to find a crumpled scrap of paper printed with a map ofParis among the mountain of invitations, and made a fatal fashionfaux pas by throwing it straight into the bin.
If Margiela has always been famous for taking normal fashion-showrequirements such as a catwalk, for example, or models and doingaway with them, then his invitations are no less conventional. Notfor this designer anything as bourgeois as a gilt-trimmed embossedcard or hierarchical seating plan. When guests arrive at a Margielashow, they are, for the most part, seated on a first-come,first-served basis. Margiela's collections have been shown,variously, on large, round dining tables in a dilapidated warehousespace; in disused subway cars; in the stairwell of a crumbling townhouse. On this particular occasion, the map in question marked thespot where press were instructed to travel an unremarkable streetcorner, as it turned out and await the arrival of a Routemaster busfilled with the designer's friends, all wearing his new season'sdesigns accessorised by fetching fur wigs, and with a Belgian brassband in tow.
The video sent out after the event for anyone who hadn't made itonly added to the characteristically surreal nature of it all.''Please turn your TV this way up,'' read the white-on-black printin English, French and Japanese. ''Thank you.'' The entire show hadbeen filmed on its side, complete with gawping passers-by, whomight well stare in disbelief at the proceedings, not to mentionthe clothes. Shoulder pads were pinned to the outside of garments;coats and jackets were cut in half and attached to sludge-coloured,vaguely sci-fi sleeveless shells; floor-length skirts and dresseswere made out of nothing more haute than the lightweight,low-budget silk normally only used for the linings of designertailoring. Then there were the shoes: ''tabi'' boots with splittoes reminiscent of nothing more obviously glamorous than a clovenhoof. Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah went the Belgian brass band.
To the uninitiated, at least some of Margiela's designs may seemconfrontationally anarchic, but to know them is to love them. Untilrecently, Margiela showed his designs on ''real'' people, as thosewho work in fashion like to describe them, as opposed toprofessional models. The clothes themselves, meanwhile, have atimeless dignity a humanity, even which, in an industry that isoften unashamedly fascistic where perceptions of beauty areconcerned, is a rarity. Equally unusual is the rich vein of humourthat runs through the work. In Margiela's hands, for example, afeather boa becomes an oversized stuffed boa constrictor; a ''fur''coat is crafted in tomato-red Christmas tinsel; and a sequineddress is printed on to white or black T-shirt material. Hiscreations are never knowingly red-carpet friendly.
While Margiela's aesthetic may not be obviously commercial, hisclothes sell extremely well, both in his own boutiques and lessrarefied department stores.
Everyone who's anyone in fashion, meanwhile, wears Margiela FrenchVogue editor Carine Roitfeld, Balenciaga's Nicolas Ghesquiere,Alexander McQueen, the list goes on. There are 14 Margiela storesworldwide, with plans to open new outlets in Dubai, Hong Kong,Moscow and Munich over the next six months. In November, Margielawill launch a fine jewellery collection and eyewear his first pairof sunglasses, a black band that wraps around the face is called''L'Incognito''. Next year sees the first Margiela fragrance,created in collaboration with L'Ore{aac}al.
''We appropriate, we do some vintage, individual vision no longerexists,'' said god of French fashion, Azzedine Alaia. ''The lastone is Margiela.''
In London, McQueen is no less impressed. ''Of course I like MartinMargiela, I'm wearing him now ... His clothes are modern classics.There's not a woman I know who doesn't have at least one piece ofMartin Margiela in their wardrobe,'' the British designer says.
Independent