“Fashion is part of the events of our times,” declared Karl Lagerfeld about the Zen-like, eco-conscious serenity of the Chanel Haute Couture collection in the Grand Palais. Reacting to the times (especially in an age as troubled as ours) can also mean needing to detach from them, fashion-mindfulness equated with luxury in this case. So where last October there was the high-tech, noisy hurly-burly of the Chanel Airport, now there were the lush green lawns of a minimalist garden, water lily ponds, a slatted wood pavilion, and plenty of space and calm to contemplate it all under simulated blue skies. It seemed incredible that the same venue had been transformed into a convincing casino for the last couture show—a tribute to the set-design genius at Chanel—and just as incredible that this time, the gambling chips had been replaced by . . . wood chips.
You read correctly: Wood chips were used as beading, paillettes, and 3-D frills among techniques involving recycled paper and organic woven yarn. The wedding look—a dreamy tufted hoodie, dress, and train—was all “made from wild cotton,” said Lagerfeld, quipping, “This is high-fashion ecology. It must not look like some sloppy demonstration!”
A case could be built for haute couture being the most non-environmentally impactful branch of clothing production, anyway. It’s handmade, takes infinite hours of work, and potentially lasts a lifetime, the antithesis of fast fashion’s notorious processes and disposability. As the show unfolded, it became, in a way, a meditation on the timeless validity of Chanel’s principles: pale bouclé suits, attenuated in the skirt, puffed in the sleeve, and with set-away collars; a movement of classic navy and white (there was a lovely white-collared classic French Gigi-at-school dress); and passages of languid pearly charmeuse and black cocktailwear.
But it was the evening that soared from the moment Lagerfeld started to introduce flecks of gold into the suiting. An incredible jacket and skirt made completely of gold and black geometric paillettes, a narrow streak of wonderment worn by Jamie Bochert, passed by, succeeded by airy lamé capes, a haze of gold and sparkle, floating from the shoulders of white pantsuits. It would take a much closer look to understand the technical wizardry and the actual degree of ecological soundness embedded in these clothes. That’s what clients will come to understand when they go up to the Rue Cambon for their fittings. It may be that they won’t be swayed one way or the other by the trouble Chanel took to source some of its materials this season.
What surely matters at a time like this, even to the superrich, is whether these clothes have the built-in sustainability of another sort: Will they look just as beautiful and valid five or 10 years from now? Answer: Chosen well, yes. In another season, Karl and Chanel will doubtless have moved swiftly on from talking about ecology. Still, one thing’s absolutely for certain: While the Grand Palais turf goes to compost and the temporary pavilion wood is repurposed, the precious clothes on this runway will never be destined to end their lives in a landfill.
