Fashion Is Fashioning

You probably missed the best parts of PFW.

We’ve all seen the hot takes and the celebrity front row videos spinning off what luxury had to offer this past week. (Mother Alex did a full recap yesterday.) But what about the independent designers who are quietly offering new ideas and changing the future of how we dress? Why are so many of them presenting in Paris right now? And what are they serving?

There are many verbs that could summarize PFW for me: work, run, laugh, cry. But one thing I noticed this season is that fashion is more than just something we look at, it’s an activity we’re immersed in. Fashion is a verb. Attending my first PFW as associate editor at i-D I was doing exactly that: fashioning. Between fighting paparazzi for the best front-row video of Olivia Rodrigo, you quickly realize something: PFW really is Fashion, capitalized. And that’s what makes it great.

For a long time, I’ve been obsessed with the clichés of fashion. Let’s admit it: I probably ended up with this job because growing up Andy Sachs was injected into my veins. The dream was simple—work to the point of exhaustion, but do it wearing cute shoes. Finally, I arrived at the ivory tower of Paris fashion. Quite literally. When I showed up late to the Zomer show, Pascal Morand (yes, the president of french fashion) actually convinced a PR to let me in by lying saying, “She’s with me.”

Paris is where these clichés come to life. Everyone steps off the Eurostar in hopes of living out their own fantasy of fashion. And that’s what I kept seeing among the indie guard: fashion as action. Fashion as something you do.

To begin with, if you’re only looking at the runways, you’re missing some of the best of what PFW has to offer. August Barron held a launch for their publication Real Housewife at Dover Street Market. Which, to be fair, might be the most PFW thing imaginable: a packed, no-RSVP room filled with hungry assistants. The brand is known for playing with hyper-feminine fashion tropes and exaggerated gestures of glamour. Their installation inside the store leaned right into that—a mannequin, the ultimate symbol of fashion display, placed at the center of it all.

Similarly, if you had no idea what Vaquera was and wandered into their show at Église Protestante Unie de l’Étoile, you might think: “yikes, fashion is weird.” The collection they presented was extravagant, playful, and slightly absurd—silhouettes pushed to the brink of parody. Which is exactly the point. The IYKYK factor is strong. Vaquera treats fashion like theatre, exaggerating the codes until they become a beautiful tribute.

What emerging designers do so well is present fashion as a spectacle. They’re still having fun. It goes without saying that they’re often less tied to the commercial pressures shaping the big houses. ABRA attached pouf chairs to dresses, while Hodakova sent a model down the runway wearing teacups as a bra. Graduates from IFM paraded duvets and pirate hats. Not to mention LVMH Prize semi-finalist De Pino’s blown-out, Ghesquière-esque proportions. Across the city, independent designers were embracing the grandeur of it all—because beneath everything, we’re still the same kids obsessed with the drama of fashion. And maybe that’s what brings us to Paris in the first place.

There was also a sense of motion across many of the collections this season. Designers seemed to be dressing someone on the go.. Models at Kiko Kostadinov strode past clutching their handbags like they were already on their way somewhere; Betsy Johnson’s girls had their trousers half-buttoned. At Cecilie Bahnsen, dancers left their puffer jackets on stage, revealing embellished dresses underneath. Mid-show at Hodakova, models transformed Persian rugs into skirts. Jenny Fax presented “panty bags”, as if someone had rummaged through a closet on the way out the door. At Fidan Novruzova’s showroom I was even allowed to try on the Tamara de Lempicka inspired collection myself. Maybe we’ve just entered the post-Lotta Volkova styling world—with her vision for Miu Miu being both highly commercial and influential—but designers increasingly seem interested in presenting the activity of dressing itself. That’s when fashion really starts fashioning.

And a verb never stands still. At Paloma Wool, confetti scattered across the runway slowly drifted with every step the models took. By the end of the presentation the set looked completely different. A small reminder that things change, even over the course of a single show.

Speaking of change, something new in the Paris ecosystem over the past few seasons is Lyas’ LA WATCH PARTY held at Théâtre du Châtelet. Here, anyone can watch the shows—to live out their promised fashion-world fantasy—just like me. I attended the Betsy Johnson show in the same building, and during the finale the curtains suddenly lifted to reveal an entire audience of screaming teenagers staring back at us editors watching from the stage. I’m sure that I’ll sit next to many of them in a few seasons.

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So if you have yet to experience your first Paris Fashion Week, I’ve gathered some key tips from indie designers on how to survive it:

• Vaquera says… “Go see a a shower show at Le Raidd Bar.”

• Julie Kegels says… “Leave early.”

• Matières Fécales says… “Cover your under eye bags with more eyeliner.”

• Zomer says… “Ginger shots, comfy shoes, and holding your breath till the last show.”

As Alex said to me as we drove over Pont Alexandre III from Courreges to Caroline Hu: “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Andrea. Everybody wants this.” And he’s right. If this is Paris Fashion Week—fantasy, youth, blisters and all—then bring it on.