Once again the murmurs rose above a whisper: The coming doom of haute couture. As masters of the fashion universe gathered to view the Chanel Spring 2009 presentation inside 47 Rue Cambon, talk tended toward the viability, the relevance of showing haute couture while outside, Paris and the rest of the world was burning. The chatter didn’t so much focus on whether such a precious sliver of la mode could survive (although that is always a nub)--as should it.
An hour later, the answer was plain.

Beyond the lace painted to resemble diaphanous feathers, the painstakingly cut chiffon and silk folded into flowers, or the magnificent silk chiffon and organza headdresses, this was not just about clothes or even fashion. Certainly (as is endlessly noted) there’s much press to be garnered from the spectacle of it all: the ornately constructed setting which this time featured stunning paper art to, more likely, the attendance by Chanel’s celeb ambassador Kiera Knightly or Bond gal Olga Kurylenko or even style god Kanye West. It’s the stuff of aspirational peddling that moves plenty of lipstick and perfume, after all.Aside from that, it struck me sitting there that there’s another raison d’etre for this hefty pomp. The entire experience is performance art. Even the tableau vivant at the end of the parade, with Lagerfeld appearing among his mannequins, followed by his satisfied strut along the black patent runway, had a sense of the pantomine and thrill, exploration and catechizing that art is all about.Haute couture has always been ranked as the art of fashion, of course. But, increasingly, isn’t it really more about art than fashion? How was Monday’s production any way different, frankly, than the experiences we underwrite, line up for and talk about years later in the name of art? And with the experience increasingly being shared with a wider audience thanks to the web, its function comes under further renewal and amplification.
There’s no question that Lagerfeld is a true artist. (I might find his eccentricities tedious at times. But then eccentricities make the world go around.) His championing to keep alive the Lemarié, Lesage and other workshops as both benefactor and for his personal motives (how else can he realize his own vision) is somewhat on par with the way fine artists have always employed a legion of younger artists to carry out their ideas. Somewhat. In the case of the factories of Jeff Koons or Damien Hirst, those hundreds of underlings go unsung. At least the Chanel PR machine proudly plays up these workshops. Then again, the reveal behind the curtain is just another component in the performance artist’s arsenal.
The setting, too, reminded me of the labyrinthine lengths some performance artists go to convey an experience. In the case of this Chanel presentation, it was a dizzying array of snow-white paper, laser cut to perfection and articulated as enormous roses, leaves and butterflies. Fabulously sizable wreaths of these paper bouquets ran up the pillars toward the Cambon-Capucine’s glass dome ceiling and curved around the arches. Smaller bunches topped every black glossy table, which were covered in a paper, laser cut with a repetitive pattern.Strip away the paper art, the grand room, the pageantry of it all, even the beautiful creatures modeling, and the clothes are nothing less than jaw dropping. Mostly shown in white and some black, they obviously involved hundreds of hours of craftsmanship, evident in the refined embroidery, the mirrored sequins and tiny pearls, the seams and fit.
But without the big show, we wouldn’t get the full vision of their creator. This resplendent feast for the senses would be reduced to a diet plate. Better for you, perhaps, but not as deliciously satisfying. Fashion might prefer its models all skin and bones, but art is a Dionysian enterprise, pain and all. For arts sake, the show must go on.


[Photos of Kanye West and Kiera Knightly and Karl Lagerfeld by Olivier Borde/Courtesy Chanel]