“A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away” were the opening credits in Star Wars. Now imagine that recited with a thundering roar as a sleek white column rotates, unveiling the interiors of fashion’s death star – this is the opulence of the Empire’s reign.
Karl Lagerfeld is too much likened to an auteur of science fiction with his astute visions of space grandeur. “It’s an ice palace. A nightclub on another planet,” he said post-show.
Ice palace indeed. But within these palace walls, the Chanel show was upbeat, optimistic and its warmth is quite the contrast to the sterile stairwells. The guests sat in a theatrical array reminiscent of old Grecian poleis, steeling their hearts for a landmark space flight as Sebestian Tellier’s haunting vocals catapult one to starry skies.
And yet this collection had ingrained many humanist qualities brought forth through see-through crystalline blousons, tactile hand-made tweed tops and every pair of flighty sports shoes. It was a new fashion attitude brought to life with the slightest skip down the stairs with every model.
By introducing the corseted midriff, Lagerfeld had segmented the proportions so models exuded flexibility between the top and their waists. One would take on zero gravity anytime in these frocks with confidence. The youthful bashfulness was a counterbalance to the couture mastery engaged on every piece.
And yet, there was elegance about the end-game. And as the final piece of stardusted dress descends upon our galactic heavens, we scarcely recall they were made by our own hands. This is Karl’s very own Empire striking back at this universe’s excesses.
