What does it take to change the world?
A book, a song or a poem can do this. A great leader or a mass campaign, lots of guns or lots of money is even more effective.
What about clean lines of stitching?
We often do not give fashion its due.
Over 125 years, the clothes that have emerged on the catwalk have molded economies, changed societies, helped liberate women, reflected… anger, excitement, new dreams, old fears, rebellion against war, and again and again, a desire for peace.
The catwalk has been a canvas for art, a platform for new technology, and a vocal advocate for climate and human rights. They have been platforms for some grand questions: Who are we? What could be more fashionable? what’s that for?
And there’s been a dark side: racism, sizeism, anorexia, abuse. An industry that often seems to ask: are you really going to look like this for the rest of your life? Or: Do you really think you could get away with wearing it again?
So how has it shaped us, how was it born and how has the fashion show changed?
For one thing, it could be anywhere now: in the flowing water of a river, inside a giant ice shell, underground in a wine cellar. (Click here For more information on this.)
Last year, Parisian brand Coperni rented out a sports field, hosted a ’90s-style LAN party, and showcased its fall/winter collection as gamers played Fortnite and Rocket League. Guests were served hot dogs and popcorn amid tangled wires. Models in cyber-grunge-inspired shoes and jackets and puffy sleeping-bag dresses walked around, wearing smart glasses and carrying handbags with built-in Tamagotchis.
The show was not meant to appeal to the elite; Its goal was to make headlines and attract the attention of the new generation. Which may seem like a fresh twist. But as is often the case in history, we have been here before.
Since the beginning of modern business, fashion has been changing according to what suits it.
For example, fine clothing has been the preserve of royalty and the elite for thousands of years. Then, as economies grew, colonialism and the Industrial Revolution began, and merchants began to become seriously wealthy, boutiques began to serve their needs.
In a small example of this, the little dolls that costume makers had carried from one mansion to the next, all dressed up in tiny dresses and hats so that queens and queens could see what the latest collection looked like, began to appear in store windows. The elite did not go to shops, so they were never needed there in the first place. Then, by about the 1750s, they were precursors to the mannequins of the mass manufacturing era.
Fast forward a bit and the catwalk was born in London in 1901. Designer Lucy Duff-Gordon trained live models to perform choreographed routines on an elevated stage in elaborate programs complete with printed programs and special invitation lists. These events remained the preserve of the elite for almost half a century.
By the Swinging Sixties, eager for brand visibility in the mass-media age, elite labels began to hold fashion shows in places where youth were considered cool: cafés, wine cellars, nightclubs.
This was not a generation that wanted to go into closed rooms for multiple fittings. In fact, it was a generation defined by social and cultural rebellion. So, in 1966, Yves Saint Laurent launched Rive Gauche, the first prêt-à-porter or ready-to-wear boutique line by a major couture house. Other brands soon followed suit.
Something else was also happening at this time that further changed fashion: the Space Race.
The idea of a man in the Moon became one of the great intersections of science and popular culture. Mary Quant launched the miniskirt (iconic in its own right) into her boutique market, but also began using PVC as a fabric. French label Courrèges used a space-age aesthetic with boxy silhouettes, angular minidresses, bright white and silver and PVC boots.
***
The intersection of catwalks and popular culture – movies, music, everyday technology – will soon shape clothes, diets, size charts, and not always for the better.
“Size zero” entered the lexicon in the ’60s, to describe British supermodel Twiggy’s body type. It was eventually adopted by the American size chart; These are clothes designed for women with 23 inch waist.
By the turn of the century, the fight for broader representation of the human form had begun.
Then, in 2006, 22-year-old model Luisel Ramos died from complications related to anorexia. That year, Madrid and Milan fashion weeks banned size-zero models. In 2007, Luis’s sister, 18-year-old model Eliana Ramos, died from complications related to malnutrition. That year, the British Fashion Council produced guidelines urging designers to be more conscious of the well-being of models.
In 2009, Kate Moss famously asserted: “Nothing tastes as good as it feels thin.”
Most of the models walking on the ramp for the world’s most prestigious fashion houses are very slim. Meanwhile, the idea of ”size zero” persists, its legacy an ongoing struggle with physical disfigurement. Women who have spoken publicly about the struggle include popstar Ariana Grande and model Bella Hadid.
“Despite hard-won inclusion, the catwalk promotes an image that mostly excludes women,” says Maria Costantino, a lecturer in fashion culture and history at the University of the Arts London. “And of course, couture is only available to a very wealthy few, so it remains exclusionary in that sense as well.”
Meanwhile, this incident automatically went viral. Amid the boom in consumer culture, disposable income and the entertainment industry (films, TV, magazines), fashion shows were democratized, says Kirsty Hassard, a fashion historian and curator of an exhibition on this history called Catwalk, which will continue until January at V&A Dundee, Scotland. “Consuming fashion became a part of entertainment, even when you couldn’t own the actual items.”
***
How else has fashion shaped our reality?
For nearly 100 years, this industry’s rebels have used their platform to demand more from the world.
Coco Chanel’s famous 1920s tweed suits used the same fabric used in men’s sportswear to create a chic, sleek, practical silhouette for the post-war working woman. They also tested it to make sure the models could comfortably climb stairs and board an imaginary bus.
In the 1980s, Vivienne Westwood turned her runway into a platform for environmental activism and an anti-establishment punk-rock aesthetic. Long before gender-fluid clothing became a topic of discussion, his designs featured men in skirts, dresses and pearl necklaces. He normalized and popularized cut trousers, shirts held with safety pins and emphasized “buy less, choose well and make it last”.
In recent years, the focus has shifted to the climate crisis, identity, war – and the fashion industry’s massive waste and huge carbon footprint. (Click here to read the story of the show based on the war, set in a giant snowglobe, or staged with “corpses” floating down a river.)
***
Through all of this, something else has shifted, too. The elite continue to occupy the front rows of fashion shows, but how we define that term has changed. Princesses and wives of nobles were the first to give way to heiresses, wives of the rich, editors and entertainers. Recently, TikTok, Instagram and reality TV stars have joined their ranks.
Exclusive access is no longer what it used to be. It can still be difficult or expensive to get into (VIP passes for some Paris Fashion Week shows can cost up to $7,000), but events are also live-streamed and live-tweeted.
“Fashion shows were built on exclusivity: to keep people out in order to create desire. But now independent designers and major fashion houses will need to once again rethink who they are,” says Costantino of the University of the Arts London. “Rethink how they can build without being conspicuous, and what they want to leave behind.”
A restless new generation is on its way, and the zero they are most interested in is net-zero emissions. A doll in the window is no longer working as well as it used to.
