Fashion Blogs

I laugh out loud at an early tale in Gods and Kings, the meticulous dual biography of John Galliano and Lee Alexander McQueen by seasoned fashion journalist Dana Thomas. In an interview with Thomas, Lisa Young, a fashion writer, shares her memory of dining with a youthful Galliano at a London restaurant in the 1980s. Although the designer was praised for his brilliance right out of Central St. Martins, his initial collections suffered from poor fit. Thus, Young adds, "we got to talking about tits, as you do."

"You don't think highly of them, do you?" Galliano was asked by her. After giving off a somewhat ashamed appearance, he said, "No." They give away the line.

It's obvious that Galliano overcame this particular point of aversion because he went on to design the renowned bias-cut gowns that swirl around contours like wet meringue. Then came his instantly iconic Maison Margiela Artisanal presentation last week, where tits, hips, and even pubic hair (they were merkins, but still) were on full display among many other amazing moments. With hip padding and corsetry, the female form was accentuated to beyond-Jessica Rabbit and beyond-Kardashian dimensions, seeming dramatic, opulent, and even a little frightening. Additionally, a sizable percentage of those models weren't straight size, which was a first for Galliano and a very rare occurrence for couture. Luxurious skin to complement luxurious attire.

After over a year of development, this stunning couture collection is finally ready and is a testament to a moment of cultural dominance in fashion that hasn't been witnessed in a long time, if at all (monoculture is gone, except for this). Everyone is gushing over Pat McGrath's cosmetics, Pat Boguslawski's choreography, the opulent set, and the clothes—which Galliano created using multiple innovative techniques—that are jaw-dropping. Galliano has drawn inspiration from two iconic sources: the dancing doll from Fellini's Casanova and Brassaï, the photographer who captured sleazy Parisian nightlife in the 1920s and 1930s and to whom Galliano has looked since his 1988 "Hairclips" collection. 

There was enough to look at. But I was drawn to the models, toddling and scraping down the runway, their padded hips undulating. There was, of course, the 6'3" Gwendoline Christie, who ended the show in dramatic style in a transparent rubber-accented gown, and the beloved Jill Kortleve. The casting did not include the same few non-straight size models that you see on rotation, namely the three or four that have truly broken through. It just seemed natural, with the models' bodies serving the clothing and adding a plush drama that complemented Galliano's vision.

Contemporary designers such as Sinéad O'Dwyer, the partnership behind Esther Manas, include curve models into their processes. But it's not frequent. When many designers include plus size models (which was only expected in the last decade or so), it often appears that they are trying to throw a bone to the audience and avoid disapproving online comments by putting the few models in this category who are considered acceptable in clothing that is not appropriate for their figures.

The model's casting is frequently portrayed as a philanthropic effort rather than something that may truly improve the designer's work. Not to add that the designer seldom produces anything in her size. Budgeting and production challenges exist, but it does not make the casting any less empty.

Galliano's non-straight-size models, on the other hand, were viewed well. Their bodies were employed to convey mood, with frames emphasizing the garments and curves reflecting the show's historical connections. They were there to exhibit the clothing in a specific manner and move in a certain way, as well as to work with the forms Galliano desired. Their presence seemed neutral, the polar opposite of checking a box.