As Johnny Hallyday belted out “L’Envie” at the finale of this show, Carine Roitfeld looked to be in utter ecstasy, swaying softly side to side and singing along. La rédactrice had been just as into every previous tune in a set that included “Tous Les Cris Les SOS” by Daniel Balavoine, “Bonnie and Clyde” by Brigitte Bardot and Serge Gainsbourg, Indochine’s “L’avanturier,” and “Lettre à France” by Polnareff. Alongside Roitfeld sat the Long Island hip-hop artist Lil Peep. He looked completely mystified.
Yes, this collection featured plenty of U.S. elements—Western fringed shirts and a U.S. flag jumper and more besides. That, though, was more of a side dish: Today Olivier Rousteing was making like Polnareff—his was a wistful love letter to France.
Why? Well shortly around the time of the recent French presidential election, Rousteing appeared on a French TV panel show called C à vous on which he declared his support for Emmanuel Macron. Afterwards he received a comment on his Instagram (now up to 4.6 million followers) from someone congratulating him on speaking French so well. “He said, ‘Oh, you so speak so well French.’ But I am French! And I was like, ‘Wow I think people think that I am an American now.’ ”
Thus in this collection Rousteing etched his Frenchness in Balmain’s florid couture cursive. He translated Marinière Breton stripes so beloved of Gainsbourg into monochrome, then Balmain-ized them still further but translating them into glittering sequined jackets. He accented these stripes with a nautical anchor logo, sometimes delivered in crystal. There were also some gently loving homages to canonical chapters of French fashion: Chanel-esque jackets pour les hommes; high-jacketed tuxedos à la Mugler; a spot of Safari—and even a recurring glasses style—that whispered of Yves Saint Laurent.
The lace, beading, and embroidery work on women’s dresses and men’s jackets was both exact and extravagant. Yet sprinkled within the sparkle were looks like a black leather biker worn over a long fine neutral toned knit, black jeans, and boots: very much Rousteing’s own day-to-day wear. He wanted to reflect his own dress in this collection, he said.
Rousteing came out for his bow in a monochrome Marinière-striped cardigan—the only way he could have sent his message more clearly would have been to wrap a string of onions around his neck and wear a beret. However, as previously mentioned, there was an overt U.S. element to this collection too; those flags, those hammered Western relief jackets, a stars-and-stripes biker, and a look of fringed probably-not buckskin over blue denim: Rousteing was being patriotic but not protectionist. Said he: “I have to say I’m more proud than ever of my country for what they did [in the election]. Because I do believe they gave the hope for the new generation and the generation after me. France in the ’80s was shining around the world, pushing boundaries. . . and today I am really believing in the country and how it can shine around the world again.”
Roitfeld, meanwhile, was still feeling Rousteing-boosted an hour later at a Birkenstock presentation in the Tuileries. She said of the show—and the soundtrack—“We were almost dying you know! It was very strange to have a show in Paris with just French music. Because usually it is English music and this time they were big French titles. . . . So we were really out of control! It makes us in a good mood—it was smart of him to do this. It was fantastic.” Très Balmain, très Rousteing, très Français. And you don’t have to be fluent in French to appreciate the va-va-voom of the clothes.
