The Balmain army was deployed to an Olivier Rousteing–imagined future this morning, a 90-strong detachment of sci-fi sirens uniformed in neon-spectrum plissé, holographic PVC, and holographic paillettes. This might be reaching just a little, but as they transported back and forth down the deep-pile carpet, his cast looked like time travelers sent back from 2050 (the year in which Rousteing imagined this collection) to alter the course of fashion history. Their mission? Umm: to sabotage any plans to lure Rousteing from Balmain—and thus ensure that army’s HoloGlamazon destiny.
Time travel apart, maybe that’s not entirely far-fetched. In 2050, Rousteing will be 64. Should he still be at Balmain, he will have put in a 39-year shift. There are plenty of designers older than 64 still working strongly in Paris today. And Karl Lagerfeld is currently in his 35th year chez Chanel. Suck on that notion, Balmain-haters.
Rousteing himself is far more serene when it comes to criticism these days. What used to rile him now helps drive him. He said he went for today’s futuristic theme to move the Balmain conversation on from legacy, to force him (and his atelier) to challenge themselves with new materials. On the whole, they rose to that challenge: The sections of metallic-finish tailoring, sequinned trenches, and pieces in black PVC that glinted with prismatic color retained a softness in movement despite the synthetic shine of their finishes. The neon fringed boucle looks and holographic raffia-fringed dresses all amped up the light-reflecting impact. Given that about half of the audience seemed to be streaming the show—and Rousteing used it as a platform to announce his own filter on Snapchat—presenting a collection that would sparkle and shine on the small screen made sense.
“We are the new generation” read a T-shirt in sequins. Yet, as a piece of knowingly OTT future-facing science fiction, this was not a total rejection of the past but more a fashion steampunk that referenced it along the way. The plissé section dresses were inspired by Madame Grès, for instance, but were presented in colorways she could never have imagined. Later, a trompe l’oeil version of the patch-plissé look was printed onto T-shirt dresses. There was also plenty of ripped denim (sometimes encased in PVC) plus a strong Balmain shoulder. The music included Yazoo’s “Don’t Go,” A-ha’s “Take On Me,” and Kim Wilde’s “You Keep Me Hangin’ On”—all tunes that sounded like the future when they first landed around when Rousteing was born. The last few looks—including Rousteing’s own when he came out to take his bow—were futuristically finished Breton tops lined in studs or more holographic-shimmer metallic: nods to the everlasting patrimoine. Said Rousteing: “I had—I wouldn’t say ‘fun,’ because I know that fun is not allowed in fashion—but I took a lot of pleasure in creating this collection.” Whether via Snapchat, Instagram, or plain old in-the-room-with-your-own-eyes, it was fun to watch, too. Roll on 2050.
