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Transcript of John Galliano's interview on 'Past, Present Couture' with Colin McDowell

CM  The great contribution you're making now it seems to me, is that you are re-formulating our ideas of couture.  Now I don't know whether that is conscious or whether it's an unconscious thing.  Do you set out thinking ‘I must make couture modern’?

JG  Yeah, it was a conscious thing.  When I first was invited to be the designer at the House of Givenchy by Monsieur Arnault the idea was to bring the House into the 21st century. You know, there'd be kicking and screaming but to kind of like move it along, because it had become quite dusty. So we both consciously decided that it needed this energy for it to have relevance today because, as you know from what everyone's saying today that couture is dead, it's gone and all the rest of it, with the retirement of Monsieur Yves Saint Laurent. That I have to agree, that couture, as that generation knew it is dead, it is gone.  However, while all those know-sos have been saying that…in a kind of avant garde way, this new couture has been happening, which has really started as well with people like Mr Arnault putting younger designers in these houses, or Jean Paul Gaultier who started a couture line. Thierry Mugler was even mixing couture and prêt-a-porter together, so it does have relevance today. But it's changed, I mean as well as dressing some of the most beautiful and wonderful women in the world, it's caught up with our generation, it is the world of MTV of the VH1 awards etc. You know, TV not just newsprint, and Internet. So it's really important to be aware of that, and it's theirs as well. 

We've talked about (couture) before as the engine if you like, to the House of Dior, it's there to inspire the rest of the houses. The time you have, the time and resources to work, these fantastic petit mains to experiment, to produce in classic fabrics, weave fabrics and colour up yarns, to really spend that time to work things out; almost like the perfume. That then inspired the ready-to-wear and the accessories, the shoes, the handbags, the lingerie, the Baby Dior etc. etc.  I've been at Dior now for five years I think, and now we're beginning to see the fruits of this initial concept of how couture could be relevant today. It's working, it's inspired every department of the House which has helped to give the House and the label a coherence; which you now see through the windows, through the advertising campaigns, the displays in the shop, the way the collections are marketed globally. When the windows change, they change everywhere worldwide. We're beginning to see the result of that now in a really positive way.

CM If we go back five years to when you first started at Christian Dior, I well remember the first couture collection which was very romantic and very beautiful, and I thought very tactful because it looked back to what Monsieur Dior had originally been about and recreated that for modern times.  You produced some very beautiful clothes, which were also in a sense quite traditional.  Did you at that stage think ‘well this is all very beautiful but it is traditional and it's looking back and I must gently start moving away from this’? What was in your mind at that point?

JG Well that was in my mind, of course.  You've got to remember as well when I first went to Dior, I think I'd signed the contract in August I think, August, September, October and even November. I couldn't go into the House because Monsieur Ferre was still packing his bags and leaving. So I was doing my research. I immersed myself in the lovingly amassed archives they had and I was in awe. I mean, completely ‘oh my god!’, and my first collection to be seen by the world was haute couture, I'd never done it before.

CM It was really being plunged in at the deep end.

JG Totally.

CM Very exciting.

JG Yeah, either sink or swim honey.

CM  We're you petrified or more excited? A bit of both I think.

JG  Both.  Petrified and excited and yeah, it releases incredibly positive energies, dramas in the Houses. Chanel had taken Amanda (Harlech) and there was all that going on and then (I thought) ‘what do I do with this haute couture, what do I want to say?’. Don't forget it was the 50th anniversary of Monsieur Dior which is pretty awesome too, I'd just come back from New York and that fantastic exhibition at the Met where (Princess) Diana had come, and so there was a lot on my shoulders at that point.

CM  But in fact you had universal approval, you hit the button just for the time and for the House.

JG  Yeah, for the time and the House and the 50th anniversary.

CM  It wasn't just homage to Christian Dior, it was all the John Galliano romanticism.

JG It started off as being an homage but not a literal homage, I wanted to get behind Monsieur Dior and what was inspiring him, the Mitza Bricard, the pearls, the perfume his mother wore, that whole silhouette that it was obsessed with, and then drawing parallels with the Masai tribe, and I got the small, that elegance. You can see it in one of these pictures how proud…and drawing parallels with these two fantastic silhouettes, that was my starting off point and that's when the excitement and the adrenaline started running and I found a way to move it forward a little bit.  However, some of it was still quite literal because it was my first haute couture and you need to be there a little bit of time and get to know how the teams work to maybe abstract it a little bit more. I mean, that comes with a little bit more knowledge and a little bit more confidence.  

CM  The touch of genius I think John, was the fact that you brought in the Masai thing.  How did that happen, was it sort of a bolt out of the blue?

JG  Belle époque, the silhouette of the belle époque.

CM  Very curvaceous and very tight.

JG  And aristocratic profiles, and then I don't know, oh I know what happened: my dear friend Didier said ‘you've got to come to London’, Mirella Ricciardi, she was still living off the Kings Road, and so we went there…

CM  …and you saw her African photographs?

JG  Yeah, we went to her flat and then it was like ‘oh this is like the silhouette of Dior's mother, this is the obsession, the fear of his mother’, and then looking at pictures of that era and the Masai. I mean, the silhouettes were incredibly similar, like proud, aristocratic, 18th century almost.

CM  I think that's what is the touch of genius, the fact that the mind can leap across the…

JG  Well also I guess from art school in the back of my mind was that whole influence of African art on Picasso in Paris at that time too that was going on, I mean it was.

CM  ‘Negro art’ as they call it.

JG  Art Nouveau and negro art, exactly, as it was called then, it's quite obvious really now when you look back but at the time it was like really exciting, and dragging Stephen with me as well and getting high on all these ideas it was really electrifying.

CM  When did you begin to change?  I see the change as being your Pocahontas.

JG  Oh yes.

CM  Or would you say that that was before?  It seems to me that's when, the fact that you were bringing other cultural references, that became apparent at that point, and that was a very strong statement which was largely misunderstood, but you are still working through those ideas now, that's what I love about couture: you go back and forth.

JG At the time I mean I didn't have as much responsibility as I have now at the House of Dior, but I was saying there is so much in this collection to inspire, the shoes, the bags, the techniques for whatever in the House, but no-one was quite ready or knew how to pick up and benefit from it, other houses did.  So yeah, you could say it was a bit misunderstood that collection.

CM  But you never felt, you had a lot of praise, you had a lot of criticism, anyone who is in the forefront has this whether he's an artist, a musician, a painter or whatever.  Do you ever think ‘oh my god am I going in the wrong direction?’, or are you always so sure? I don't know you, I know you are actually deep down a very modest man, but I don't want you so sound big-headed, but do you always think ‘well this is what I must do and if they don't understand it well I've got to find another way of making them understand it’?

JG  Yeah that's it.  I mean I do have a duty to the House of Dior of course, and we love finding creative solutions, but I can't really do anything unless my heart's into it, I'm not that kind of person, so whatever I decide to do it's done a hundred percent with a belief or the belief of my teams. You know, it's got to excite us as well, because when we're excited, when we're stimulated creatively, that's when we get results and that's when everyone can reap the benefits at the House, whether it be Galliano or Dior. So each time we have to stimulate ourselves, our team, so that we can forge ahead and play with different techniques or ways of cutting, whether it's ultimately the most sophisticated bias cut or something that's inspired by folk lore, much more primitive cuts, which is another angle to take, and then to extract that as en plumes is really exciting. 

CM  You are sensitive enough to obviously be hurt by some of the criticism, but you're never presumably…you never feel ‘right I've got to do something that they'll understand a bit more’. What you're saying is you have to do what you have to do and if we, the press and public, don't understand then it's our problem?

JG  Well I do what I have to do in the haute couture, in the true spirit of haute couture, as Mr Dior did, I mean he'd drop in his Coup de Trafalgar, you know where's that coming from, and then it would evolve into something else. I think that's the relevance of haute couture today; that you are allowed to express yourself creatively in haute couture and then afterwards you inspire the rest of the house, I mean as I'm saying.

CM  How traditional are your methods?  I mean (Dior) used to be there in his white coat with his stick…but you start with a sketch…

JG  Oh I actually start…

CM  Maybe you first start with fabric or others or what?

JG  We go on a research trip, whether it be London, New York, for the last year it was to Russia, and we amass all this information, you know trips to galleries, museums, markets, eating, you know the church.

CM  Looking to stimuli, yeah.

JG  Yeah, exactly. The last one we went to St. Petersburg and the Summer Palace, and we listened to Russian music, totally immersed ourselves in that whole incredibly rich culture.  We film, we video, we sketch, we take loads of photographs.

CM  Do you buy things like in the markets or whatever?

JG  We buy books, yeah, absolutely.

CM  So you come back with a hell of a lot of ideas, concrete ideas either with nature, photographs or whatever?

JG  It’s all shipped back, and then we have a period where we assimilate all this information and put it into some kind of store, you know it's threading a necklace, a beautiful necklace if you like.

CM  How long does that period take?

JG  The research or…?

CM   No, the research…you're usually away for a week, but obviously that's just the beginning and then you're researching in your head all the time, but when you've got all the artefacts there, the pictures and everything and you're sorting it through, is that a lengthy process or quite a quick process?

JG  It used to be a lengthy process when it was just Stephen and I doing it, now we have like a gang, I'd say within a week we're able to break things down and decide.

CM  So by the end of a week you have a coherent picture of what you've actually…

JG  Well, that picture is in my mind a little bit before, normally along with like musical ideas and things like that, and then we have what we call our Bible, which is all the beautiful romantic paintings let's say from Russia that inspired us, and then we'll have another book with all the costumes we saw. One for jewellery, one for music, and we break it down like that, and then we do another book and we juxtapose things just to remind us of what we really like and how we'd like to do let's say this folkloric look but not in a literal way, in like funky folklore and how to extract it even more, and how to, especially with this last collection, not to be as literal as I had been in the past. We didn't need to let anyone know really where it was all coming from, that we could take a make-up idea from a Russian icon and mix it with a folkloric skirt painted à la Leon Bakst, Ballet Russe, and create a new look if you like…which was equally fun and inspiring but without being slavishly literal. That opened up a lot of…I think looking at all those primitive cuts was really inspiring, to go back to that and see that, and then you know having seen like Kodo drummers in Japan. That's something I saw two years ago, and then at New Year I saw this rehash video on Adam Ant and suddenly that clicked and it was like ‘oh right’. You embellish and embroider in, and you begin to get a kind of story. At the same time you're launching shapes, getting into that whole cut thing.

CM  How do you do that, you've started to sketch by now?

JG  Yeah, we get some shapes down in linear, yeah, sketches. Very loose, just playing with volumes and unusual proportions. Normally, we're so strict with ourselves that the waist has to be there, the bust has to be there, and this somehow stretched, attenuated everything, and we thought we ‘no, the waist doesn't have to be there, why does it have to be?  Why does the sleeve have to stop there?’  Lots of things like that, so we were quite loose, not too strict with ourselves, and we launched everything in toiles like the old way, and we had a huge backdrop of…

CM  Let's just explain to everybody what exactly toile is because a lot of people might not know.

JG  Toile is that first, it's that first time you see three-dimensionally your sketch. It's like a cotton fabric, sometimes you use fine ones, heavier ones to define volume.

CM  Depending on what sort of garment you're thinking of creating.

JG  Depending on the garment, if it's like a bias cut dress then we'll use a fabric that's slinky too, whatever gives the volume best for what this outfit could eventually be. They're very loose ideas, I mean, what if the jacket could turn into a pair of trousers, could turn into…it's just the beginning of…it's only something you see on the body, on a mannequin, and of course you spend hours and hours and hours… When you see her moving and walking and discussing, she's hopefully very inspiring.

CM  Who do you have with you there?  Do you have people from the atelier with you at that point, or head cutter or somebody like that?

JG  Well, there's all the instructions with the initial drawings and then Stephen very carefully talks through each preliminary of what I would like to see as a shape of whatever. Then it comes down and we try to get it all down at the same time, because I like to see the whole collection in toiles, in its very basic form just to define the volumes.

CM  So you're talking volume and cut and shape, you're you’re your eye isn't being confused by colour or pattern?

JG  No, no, no. We put a film, a roll of big black paper in the back, a bit like you just saw in Nick's studio, so we can just see brutally the silhouette, cream and off-white toiles against a black backdrop, because we're just concerning ourselves with volume and how the garment moves in this. We worked with Melinda for the whole collection, it was really hard work, hours and hours and hours. Then we start to see things that we like, and then we start to see, it's pushed along the next stage and then I work with a premier and say ‘come down’, and then we'll start saying things like ‘oh do you think Kate (Moss) would wear this jacket? No, she wouldn't wear it that long it would be really short’. Then you start to play with, you know, you've got someone in your head that's real, and modern.

CM  You get an actual model in your head quite early on?

JG  Yeah, someone that I respect and admire, sort of like Kate for the whole first section, that whole first section of the Russian thing was we kept thinking ‘Kate, she would wear those flat boots, no, she'd rip off that jacket’ and it would be much, much shorter than should be. So what was this frumpy folklore thing suddenly became incredibly funky and very Kate, that was my inspiration anyway.

CM  So you're thinking models, you're thinking volume. I know music is very, very important to you, has the music come into this equation at that point?

JG  Yeah, at that point Jeremy (Healey)'s doing an audio toiles of what we're doing visually with our toiles.  ‘Audio toiles’, it probably doesn't even make sense!  No, but he is, I'll have talked to him. Well actually, I was listening to an audio toile before Christmas, because also what has started to happen now is that I like to have that inspiration too. To have the music or his rough ideas while I'm toileing. So, rather than always referencing paintings or books, or even my Bible, sometimes it's nice to just close it and put Jeremy's music on: ‘oh I want that chiffon to fly like these violins, and that bass, and the way he's sampled this. Why aren't we doing that?’.  I try to get his input in earlier and earlier.

CM  So you're getting a spirit of music into the clothes really?

JG  Yeah, that heartbeat, the Kodo drums, that whole things, and then like I said, seeing Adam Ant. Then I thought ‘I want to return to something that's more tinny, more primitive, less produced’.  Everything was getting so digitally over-produced it was nice to bring it back to a kind of rawer heartbeat of a sound.

CM  That’s exactly what those drums were like, there was such power.

JG  That was a heartbeat.

CM  A powerful beginning.

JG  And those dragon things, they were getting the energy from the sun and bringing it down to earth. Paris, earth, yeah, which I felt kind of was a fantastic background for the clothes and what we were trying to say. So as with them, I mean some toiles can take, shall I say, twelve or eighteen goes, some even go that far and then get scrapped.

CM  How much do you toss out on average, what percentage? Ten percent, five percent?

JG  It's difficult to say, I mean something might get tossed out and then it gets put back in as well, it's difficult to define. Sometimes something that's really ugly is a great surprise.

CM  Because it doesn't matter very at this stage, except for man-hour times it isn't costing very much money because a toile is very cheap.  

JG  Yeah, we get through a lot of it and the ateliers are on full-steam at this point because now they know that's when I need the energy. That’s when I need to see things very quickly, because the quicker I see that, the quicker I can then, me and my team can make decisions on fabrics, colours, embroideries. If I can't see roughly the whole show it slows the whole process up.

CM  What sort of hour are you working at this stage?

JG  Every hour God gives us.

CM  You work very late I trust?

JG  Yeah, and they start very, very early.  Stephen, Vanessa and Bill, they do like 6 o'clock starts.

CM  In the morning?

JG  Yeah.

CM  Until what sort of time?

JG  Well, they like doing the morning starts because the phones aren't ringing, there's no-one around and they can really kind of like work things out on paper, so we'll discuss everything the night before and they're very clear and everything's exactly where it needs to be. Whether it's accessories for the fittings, or the right music, or how we're going to, how this toile is going to evolve, how they're going to help me to edit. At that point everyone knows what I want to say so they're helping me to make the message the strongest we can.

CM  Now, if we take a dress like this, which is one of your earlier dresses showing the spirit of the Masai and also the spirit of Dior, and also going right back to the turn of the, the beginning of the 20th century, can you say at what stage you began to decide on things like colours and fabric? Presumably people are bringing you in, you have ideas for fabrics, I suppose you have a studio that draws them?

JG  More and more we working directly with the mills and producing our own fabrics.

CM  Totally unique.

JG  Yeah, and in haute couture too you're not necessarily producing a print, you're getting artists in to paint the fabrics so its all placed exactly where you want it.

CM  This is a very complicated stage this, so you've got to be pretty dammed sure of what you're after before you bring the…

JG  Oh, before they come in you've got your toiles and then you've got, your teams help you to get, map out some kind of drawing with references. Like Vanessa has a million pots of ribbons and colours and we start to take little swatches and then someone will help us to paint the thing up, and we'll see it in its different colour variants before we commit ourselves, because once you've got Georges Krivoshey in to start painting then that's it.

CM  You don't go back.

JG  No, because you know then that everything is thread-marked, no patterns are made in haute couture as you know, the toile is then disassembled and then those pieces are all thread-marked onto your white satin-backed crêpe for instance. Then the image that you want painted, this is after the fitting's been done and up to a…you can only fit up to a point because obviously the final stuff is done on the real girl that's going to wear it in the show. So you have very big seam allowances left, a thing that's really lumpy. It's a bit disheartening and it's hand-basted. It's like ‘oh’. But you trust the ateliers, you know it's going to look amazing, and this is just put together loosely for the artist to be able to paint those pieces. Then as I've said, that goes out. Oh sorry, that's thread-marked, that's cut, that goes out. He then will take it to his atelier, its all pinned-out, it's carefully painted, he's got to work out the right and the wrong side of the dress, it's going back on itself, great technique goes on.  So while that's going on we're working on something else, and something else, and something else. I mean the whole of Paris comes to life when an haute couture is going on.

CM  What about the beading?  If you have beading would you do a lot of…

JG  We work with some of the greatest houses in that.

CM  Do you design the sort of type of pattern you want, or do you talk about the dress and then get them to come up with ideas?

JG  Both.  A little bit of both.  With some embroiderers they just have got la pat, they know exactly what you're talking about, they know exactly what you're talking about, there's a Ballet Russe and you show them a few sketches and then you give them the feeling if you like. You show them the toiles, and I want it to be like a Mongolian trapeze artist for instance. They come back, or we go if we have the time, and we go through all their beads, and then we choose the beads, then the colour, then the texture, then they come in with their techniques. Now they can just make this bead glisten in the most beautiful way, or how to produce this texture, you know it's an ongoing dialogue. Then they'll take a sketch idea, or we'll let them take the toile and put down a preliminary idea on the toile. Then we'll discuss more colours and beads and threads, and how light we want it because this is going to be a chiffon dress and we still want it to look like a chiffon dress, so what kind of sequins, what beads, ‘is it raffia? Is it nylon?’, all these different techniques that you can use to not lose this beautiful shape that we saw in front of the black cinema roll.  So then their professionalism and experience is called in, and they'll do swatches. So they'll produce it first of all to get the shape, the design on like a toile, which is unbearable for them because it hurts their fingers and it's, but I like to see that fuss, then how that translates onto the fabric, many changes go on there too, because some things are too heavy, or the yarns that thread the beads together are too low, or it snags or you can't put a needle through beads for instance.

CM  So it's a learning experience all the time?

JG  Well, each time you introduce a new fabric, they always say ‘you give us such a work out, you really like challenge us’, it’s like ‘you really wake us up’.

CM  They must love that.

JG  Yeah, because they're going to find new techniques.

CM  So you're experimenting?

JG  Sometimes I call on old, very classical techniques and they almost like ‘yawn’, you know they like….

CM  ‘Been there, done that’?

JG  Yeah, they're like, ‘oh’. But this I love, this felt embroidery with eel skin or you know ostrich foot. It all sounds pretty disgusting but it's really beautiful.  So yeah, I think that poses a lot of challenges to them and they get very excited about that, and you know they work all day and all night to produce that.

CM  This is what's unique about Paris too they're so, the people who work in high fashion are do dedicated to the beauty and the craftsmanship they don't care about time.

JG  Absolutely, no. Monsieur Lemarié, the feather maker, I mean they don't exist anywhere else in the world these ateliers.  I took Alexi up the night before for the first time to walk round the ateliers, we went through the Tailleur and through the Flou, just to show, he was a bit freaked out because everything was in pieces and he didn't think that was normal, but the girls were still coming so nothing can be finally, finally sewn until the last, last minute, and he was really quite moved almost to tears to see the passion that these petite mains, these fantastic work, that they were sewing then, it was like four o'clock in the morning, and the dresses were still in pieces and the show was going to be at two the next day, and he was really moved by that, and he was really moved as well to see so many young people in there, and concerned too that would it, yeah, it will get together by some kind of magic, it always comes together.

CM  And it is magic.

JG  It's magic.

CM  If anyone, a time and motion guy would say ‘forget it, you've blown it, there's not going to be a show in time’, but you know it's all going to come together.

JG  You just trust them completely, because there is always that moment where I've got to go, have a show, do the, I've just got to get out ready for the next day, and you just trust them, trust them completely.

CM  When you get very near to the say, two or three days before the collection, you've got them not properly sewn and made yet but you've got all the stuff there, some very expensive stuff.  Is there any throw-out at that point or by then? You absolutely know what you're going to have?

JG  There have been outfits in the past that have been not sent down the runway, and that's been decided the night before…

CM  Is that because they don't quite tell the story as you want it?

JG  Or they came out a little bit too heavy, the girl can't walk in it, it's fantastic, amazing to look at but would make us look rather foolish as far as technique was concerned, when you do those big dresses, forget it, don’t show it, it's just not right, and that's quite scary when Lesage has been you know..

CM  Because that's very expensive.

JG  It's expensive but I have to think of my duty to the House of Dior too, which has to be the finest workmanship. These things have to work, they have to move. So sometimes, yeah it's sad but you have to edit to make the rest look beautiful. You don't walk, do you know what I mean? It doesn't happen very often and you have to be quite… I remember the one dress, it was like Suzanne who'd done all our fittings, and I was thinking that we could make it work. I actually managed to get home that night for a couple of hours sleep and I left it with Bill and Stephen. Then I got that horrible phone call in the morning from Stephen saying ‘it just ain't going to work’….’are you sure? It's Suzanne's dress. There's no way? It's the most expensive embroidery ever done by Lesage. It's Suzanne's dress she can work it’. Not even Suzanne could work this dress so we had to cancel it, horrible.

CM  And that must be terrible right through the House because the people have worked on it.

JG  Yeah, but at the end they realise that it just wouldn't have worked, and by editing it, it actually made the rest of the collection stronger.

CM  Of course, and that of course if the final, that's the criteria.

JG  And Suzanne totally, she totally understood, I mean you know she knew.

CM  It must have been hard for her but I'm sure she would, because they're all professionals, they all understand, if that was me taken off I'd be disappointed and probably upset a bit, but as you say you've got this overall responsibility to get it right in that crucial twenty minutes. I mean, so much hangs on what comes down that line and how people are going to perceive it.

JG  It's got its highs, it's got its lows. The music psychologically can again take you up there and bring you down. You can interrupt someone's thought with the music if it goes too down, if you just keep that heartbeat pounding, so many things going on, the way the girls are sent on, how they're sent on, they're attitude, the make-up, the hair, you don't stop at the clothes. In those three days before as well we start doing – no - a week before, Pat (McGrath) and Orlando come over and we talk them through the collection, show them the research books, explain what we're trying to say. Then they start their interpretations with make-up, Pat will be in the corner somewhere cutting up bits of paper and felt, or she's picked up on a gold lace, looking at an icon she's been inspired and seen, gone out to B.H.V. and bought some gold lace paper doily. You look at her and you're like ‘Oh! What is she doing now?’. So we just let her get on with it, and Orlando's kind of thinking 18th century and clown, at which point we close the doors, we just don't want anyone to see what's going on because…

CM  You scare them too much?

JG  Well, I'm not because I know the creative process, but I wouldn't want someone like Valerie walking in and saying ‘what is that?’. It's work in progress. Then they Polaroid and Polaroid and Polaroid. Then we look at the Polaroids all together. Again sometimes it's too literal, or sometimes we like a piece of this, or we like this shape because it works with this coat and collar, but we prefer the texture that the hair was in the first section, and ‘Pat we love what you've done here with the gold lace but let's try it with that Brassai kind of twenties lips’ and then taking that icon gold lace and mixing it with that.  Then with Orlando's 18th century draw, it becomes something new and really exciting.

CM  Hearing you talk, I think students probably don't realise just how important it is to have a broad cultural openness really. You're talking about Brassai, you're talking about the Twenties, you're talking about Japanese culture, Russian culture, that's something which you've developed over the years.

JG  Yeah, over the time, and being curious.

CM  I think couture really has to be curious.

JG  Oh yeah, you know going to museums, going to libraries.  I mean initially it was all fired by great people like you and Sheridan Barnett who introduced me to that library at St. Martin's, and then once you're hooked, once you've been introduced to Mondigliani, you want to find out about Montparnasse. You want to find out what they were drinking, what happened, what they were wearing, and you start to create these whole things in your head. You know, what was the light like, things like that. Then that sets you off and then before you know it you'll want to know what Japonism is and why, and what Great Exhibition, and then it goes on. One door opens, another door, it's really exciting, it's my research time which I love.

CM  Before we start talking about the specific dresses, what do you feel at the end of it all? I mean, I come behind, say hello to you and you look absolutely drained, and yet there's a fantastic glow of vitality and energy in you at the same time.  When you come down do you just feel so empty when it's all over?

JG  You feel very, I mean when you see me back stage, I'm probably still quite high.

CM  You're still high with all the excitement.

JG  Because you're keeping that energy going for the girls, you're still keeping people…you know it's still like ‘Orlando that ponytails in’, ‘Stephen she's got a tissue cut’, and you are all over the place and probably don't make any sense to anyone. But the people that need to hear what you're saying are hearing it, so at the end you're a bit kind of all over the place still, and of course you're very…

CM  Do you have a slump the day after?

JG  Yeah, you have a big, not depressed, but a big kind of decompression, which is a nice feeling too, then you need just two or three days to just keep…you've been going at it for so long and it's so intense. It's like even with the gym thing and the healthy diet and all that you still need time to decompress, and then just take your dog out for a walk and do normal things. Go to a Boulangerie, or just to see a blue sky in the morning, when you're getting up that early it's dark. So, just little things like that, and then you start it all again.

CM  They way you describe it, it makes it sound almost like you are the General in a battle, you know you've got to take an overall, and you have to notice little bits that are going on, tell people what to do.

JG  It is like a military operation.

CM  It's a bit like sort of Wellington at Waterloo.

JG  Oh I don't know, there does have to be this discipline and Stephen is fantastic, but Stephen also makes sure that he has these endless lists. By the end of that day those things have to be done, otherwise ‘John that means the embroiderers aren't going to get the things and that got to be’. You know, it has a knock-on effect, so Bill as well, like he's kind of like directing the kids that work with us on what part of the embroidery they should be drawing first, what t-shirt they should be thinking about, so it's like an enormous jigsaw puzzle if you like. If everyone keeps to their side, you know, comes up with the things on time then, still there's that scary moment because the embroiderers…you know, if you gave them six months they spend six months, if you give them six hours they'll do it in six hours. The embroiderers, they're special, of course it's so enjoyable to do that.

CM  And there are always going to be things which are unexpected, something doesn't turn up.

JG  Then you find creative solutions and that's, I'm quite good at that. You know, if someone suddenly says ‘you've exploded the embroidery budget John’ and we're all like ‘tell us news’. You know, so we won't send this to Lesage, let's do it in-house, let's do it with felt, let's do it as a potato print, is so Leon Bakst’ and then it becomes even richer.  Always there's a creative solution you know. Things always look better in the morning.

 

CM  We're talking about how the picture's made, let's talk about these, which are really some of the most amazing things I have ever seen.

JG  Barbie goes to Tibet (Autumn-Winter 2001).

CM  Barbie goes to Tibet.  Now what was the evolution of this?

JG  Well it looks like a bow doesn't it? This amazing bow. Well, I tell you what the original idea was, it was all this Tibetan imagery we had and then this kind of larger than life, you know how girls are obsessed with dolls? I think, well the original idea for the shape, I made a great friend in Tokyo who is Mytoya, who work for Kyonan theatre, and he's a national treasure.

CM  Yes, I love that.

JG  He's fantastic isn't he? Yeah, so neither of us talk either language but we just got on really well, and he invited me to go and see him at the theatre. It's like Shakespeare but in Japanese, but I actually got really excited by it, and then of course he introduced me to all the costumes and we've become great friends, so that's where that shape, this kind of awesome, uncompromising almost shape came from.

CM  A very powerful shape.

JG  Very powerful, you can imagine them like coming towards you, the menacing almost, menacing.

CM  But it isn't heavy.

JG  No, well that's the magic of Raphael at the haute couture salons, this was then all done layers by layers and then they were decorated by different embroiderers, and you could see like hair clips and things, and then he's got this lovely, almost like cellophane, packaged doll vibe going there which I thought was really charming really. Inga's wearing that, it's gorgeous.

CM The workmanship, quite apart from the thought and the evolution of it that you and Stephen were working on, the actual workmanship must have taken a long time, but also it must have been a bit scary for the ateliers.  How long did it take them to grasp what you were after, because it's not like anything they've every had to make before is it?

JG  Well, I mean I did it with Raphael the tailor, which I wouldn't normally do, but I'd shown him. It was so kind of, you know, it needed that sense of balance and it needed the tailoring you know, the structure, it needed to look light and en plumes it was embroidered as well. I mean, so we gave it Raphael. Well, we showed him the sketch and he laughed, then I showed him my back-up work and then he got into it. That whole idea of the kind of like menacing shape if you like, and it was done in scrim. You know, like the toiles, stiffer than toile. That just kind of went up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down. Then it worked, it worked, and then we put it with these sexy jeans underneath that were beautifully cut and embroidered and re-embroidered. The really beautifully sprayed-on jeans.

CM  What are they wearing there? What have they got here, she's got a…

JG  That's a camera, a video, and she's videoing us watching, you watching them.

CM  The model watching you watching her? Exactly.

 

CM  Now this is by any standards a pretty amazing statement. Can you tell us a bit about it?

JG  That was from the Tibetan Barbie. No, yes, it was that collection, ‘Goa’, kind of like these chic hippies smoking cannabis.

CM Sort of seventies feel.

JG A little bit, a little bit yeah, Zandra (Rhodes), those looser shapes, Bill Gibb, very kind of London vibe and the little beads, smoking joints, walking down the beach that vibe for that kind of dress just seemed the right, you know worn with these like backless sporty trainers and Rosemary (Ferguson) is wearing that, and that was painted by George Krivoshey, and tie dyed too, but done in this amazing design. There wasn't anything left to, it wasn't haphazard, it's quite amazing colours.

CM And that's really what makes it very contemporary really because these aren't quite the sort of London colours.

JG  No, and not a literal copy of ethnic things.  It was all like Karma Sutra, look at these two here what they're doing. André ordered pyjamas but he wanted us to remove the breast so there was more of a, of kind of hermaphrodite, and he looked amazing. Like Pukka Pants, and then look at that suppressed air behind the plastic, it's like echoing the shape of the dress it's fab isn't it?

CM Yes.  So it's almost like the centre of a huge flower, you know, like Georgia O'Keefe, like a lily picture or something, he's got that sort of quality, it's going out like huge petals.

JG Yes, it you squint it is a bit like the, it is you know, because those greys and the white petal and then this intense colour in the middle.

CM Georgia O'Keefe would understand that absolutely perfectly, that picture.

 

CM What about this one, which is great fun?

JG  That's Karen (Elson) and that's Ben (Dunbar-Brunton), who you met earlier.

CM  Oh right, yes.

JG  The strong man.

CM  This is the strong man brought in to support it all.  What's the mood of this?  What collection was this from?

JG  This I believe was worn by Annilise in the Opera collection, it has that very delicate, feminine ‘Josephine’ vibe to it. Beautiful embroidery again like cloth flowers and velvet ribbons and then re-embroidered, and that's just the lining of the coat by Lesage, and I just love this whole irreverent feeling to it as well, with the balloons, it's so happy and ‘up’.

CM  The riches and fare which make you think of great grandeur you know, Catherine the Great.

JG  Plastic helium-filled balloons.

CM  That feeling of Catherine the Great coming through the snow on a sleigh you know in the winter in Russia.

JG  And her colouring with that red hair, and there she is.

CM  And then there is a party going on.

JG  Yeah, it's Blackpool isn't it, it's like a contemporary Lartigue?  

CM  It's marvelous, it's a pyramid of fun really, it's great.

JG  And all the streamers, yeah, it's lovely that.

 

JG  I was fascinated with Baldini, the painter Baldini as well, and recreating, and still the, this was the first haute couture collection at Christian Dior with that Masai influence and that beautiful Baldini silhouette.

CM  The incredibly elongated…

JG  Well there you can see the corset and these fantastic necklaces inspired by the photos of Mirella Ricardi and La Robe Siren. Kind of that Edwardian, totally. I mean it was cut on the bias this dress and then it was hand painted which was really, really, you know it was hand painted by Geneviève. Just the way, you can see it give it a kind of ethereal quality, that the dress moves so beautifully, and it was flattering, you know it fitted in all the right places and only begun to flare just above the knee, so the silhouette was there. The way, we padded their bums slightly to bring that slightly African theme, to make the waist look smaller. I mean, they had major corsetry going on, you don’t even see that, but that was major corsetry, when the girls came in for their fittings we had to feed them bits of chocolate every three hours because they would be fainting. These girls had never worn corsets before, they were horrible things to like endure throughout the fitting, but the silhouette that was achieved was subtle but was there.

CM  It was modern in feel.

JG  Yeah, but the whole dress was cut on the bias so this fabric really moulded the structure we already had underneath, of course, because of Mr Dior's obsessions with under garments and things I was very aware of it at that point, being my first haute couture collection at Dior. I love the way Nick's kind of, the representation of it as well.  You know when he first started, I mean his idea was to…I mean it's just so modern and contemporary that backdrop of this cellophane and the way it reflects the light. He wanted as well to treat it in a slightly irreverent way for clothes, but to make them kind of contemporary and today and work with each girl's personality, how she would wear it, not this kind of ‘don't touch me’ look… That was really exciting and contemporary to do, whether it be on Stella or Kasia or Liberty, it was really exciting.

 

JG  That's Jacquetta.

CM  Those are trainers aren't they, I just love that.

JG  That's my baseball cap she's wearing there.

CM  It's your cap is it?

JG  Yeah. Going with Jacquetta's personality and how she was feeling that day, and the fantastic embroidery, that was from the collection (shown at) Château de Versailles (Matrix), inspired by Persian miniatures. That's the way we showed it on the runway, this is how it's been reinterpreted for someone like Jacquetta to wear today. Yeah, initially that was Persian miniatures, and that was embroidered…

CM  It has that sort of delicacy doesn't it?

JG  Very fine beads.

CM   That must be an enormous amount of work.

JG  Yeah, that was amazing workmanship (on) that one. Beautiful.  Because you know like when you've cut those pieces as well, what I forgot to say earlier, and those pattern shapes have been thread-marked and it’s all on the bias. So it kind of moves everywhere the fabric, it's just moving constantly. That then has to be re-attached onto a frame before a beader can even start to bead, the grain has to be meticulously reproduced again on this frame so that the bead…you know when the whole thing comes off it even, and moves with the fabric.

CM  It still works and moves the way it has to. I think it's almost, not mathematical, but it's almost scientific in a way, there's a lot of serious science thinking behind it to make it…

JG  Of the ateliers, absolutely, and you know shapes.

CM  Because I think people don't normally realise.

JG  Because you can create a shape, I mean we can bang together a shape like that, but when you see the haute couture ateliers do it and it and moves like a cloud and it's so light, the volume is exactly what you want. Bill and I can knock it up and get an effect but you couldn't just glide down the runway. They know how to do it, where to put the tool underneath the skirt to create that volume, and what's the best fabric, how the crin's laid on to make that skirt flare out, I mean it's techniques, it's amazing.

 

JG  This is a lovely coat, it's worn by Kasia, and this coat was from the Opera collection, but again here you're seeing it worn with like paint-splattered…these jeans were great. When Nick was setting up the shot, one of his assistants had these jeans on and I though it was so cool to put them with the coat.

CM  So you took him off of him?

JG  They just looked really cool.

CM  But that's what makes it modern of course.

JG  Yeah, and that chain saw.

CM  Yeah, right, the chain saw's a bit worrying but at least the paint's green not red, that would have been a bit more worrying.

JG  So that's a beautiful embroidery by Lanel.

CM  How long does it take to evolve an image like that?

JG  You know, with Nick you lose all sense of time, and he has this amazing team around him.  I really don't know how long, you lose all sense of time.

CM  But are we talking three or four hours per shot until you get the final one?

JG  It's normally three or four hours before you start.

CM  Right, well what are you doing in those three or four hours?

JG  (Nick)'s thinking about the picture, the light, how this thing is going to be composed, what we're trying to say, setting the whole thing up before you even start to work with the girl. 

CM  How much do you sort of brief the girl, get her into the mood.

JG  Well Nick's the one that gives the…

CM  He does all of that does he?

JG  Yeah, I mean because at the end of the day it's him and her there, I mean she knows about the garments, she knows how to, but he's…you can stand right behind Nick but you're still not seeing what he's seeing. I mean, he's the one that edging her along.

CM  Yeah, the electricity between them, the girl, the dress.

JG Yeah, she's feeling great because of the make-up, we've hopefully made her feel really great, you know the hanging out with her, and Val (Garland)'s made her look the most beautiful, and Sam (McKnight)'s…worked on the hair. So, she's feeling pretty cool and great, and then he's like edging her this way, that way, probably make her do things to produce this incredible shape. So she doesn't even realise he's doing it and only he knows that. He's seeing that through the lens, and then of course, the team click in when they see that lighting and they see what's happening and the reaction, the thing that's going on with Nick. Then they see how the make-up's reacting on film or Polaroid and how the hair's reacting. Should it have wind? Should it not have wind? Should we cut those jeans? Should we tie it, should we make the…then everyone clicks in when we all see what's coming out on film.

CM  That must be a very exciting moment.

JG  Yeah, because it's changing, it's changing it, and that's why you lose sense of time, because then he'll try a different idea, I mean he'll kick it. That's what I like about Nick; he'll kick it around for hours and then when you think you've got the shot he'll go back to the first item to get it even stronger, but I think that's what's great.

 

JG  That's a Liberty (Ross) with a snake and that's a fantastic piece of workmanship from Gossens, which is one of the kind of like finest jewellery makers in Paris.

CM   How much work is there in there, how many hours?

JG  Oh I would say about three weeks, because it's all put together as real jewellery would be put together, and that was from the Maharajah-inspired collection, the Jardins de Bagatelle, so it was a very important part of the silhouette and what we were trying to say, and I don't know if you can see in the picture, you've got those enormous earrings as well. Huge, they're actually held down with a metal Alice band.

CM  Oh, they weren't on the ears at all?

JG  No, her ears would have been dragging on the floor! 

CM  Made with the African feel as well.

JG  Yeah, and the Jardins de Bagatelle as well had this kind of Nouveau vibe going on, and so that all started quite in advance and it was a beautiful piece, and also it was trying to establish this kind of aristocratic profile. Yes, of course, the initial idea was inspired by the Masai and how they stood, very high necklaces, so that was really, the inspiration came from that and that was the Jardins de Bagatelle.

 

JG  Alek, Alek Wek. How African can you look you know?

CM  Tell me a bit about this one.

JG  That's fantastic, that was from the Freud collection (Sado-Maso Autumn-Winter 2000) and it was part of the nightmare sequence. We started with the twisted webbing where they all looked very happy but they were all really not happy at all, and then we moved into that theme, when daddy starts to lay the law down. That feeling of this young child looking through the keyhole and seeing what the real world was about, that mummy was sleeping with the chauffeur and the chauffeur was having it off with papa, and this, well, this is one of his nightmares. We were recreating the New Look silhouettes but with all this African imagery which was really beautiful. We were talking about the crin and stuff like all the layers of toile that they, which happened by chance as Alek was kind of giving it her all here. It was amazing, I love this, I love this one really a lot because to me I imagine that if Mr Dior was still alive - hold it away and squint - this would be his like ‘oh I'm feeling this kind of shape’ and then talk to the ateliers, he'd just get it down, do you know what I mean? It's like that initial sketch which is fantastic to bring back into the fire, into the pictures, capture that initial fifties sketch vibe somehow, give that to an atelier and that would really inspire them, and then you'll see your toiles and then it would, imagine, it would be great. Nick could do that.

CM  Actually that is a terrific picture I agree, a marvelous picture.

 

CM  Now we have one of the most amazing ones I think, one of the most extraordinary fashion pictures ever taken in my opinion, Erin with a long nose.  Tell us.

 

JG  Well challenging people's views of beauty really, why not?  Originally, it was from the nightmare sequence of the Freud collection (Sado-Maso Autumn-Winter 2000), it was you know every kid's nightmare that their dolls come to life, it was like a Marie Antoinette doll you know with the powdery wig and everything, and suddenly she would come to life, some kind of like I'd imagine an Edwardian nurse really.

 

CM  And there's the lovely big key as well there, you know when she's wound up, but she's an evil doll.

 

JG  Yeah, I think she is definitely, definitely, and then she got this lovely kind of balletic wrap, and her eyes are pulled back in a very kind of like pre-stage make up if you like, and she's not being very ladylike is she?

 

CM  No, not a bit ladylike.

 

JG  There was a great sequence to these pictures, because he captured the whole destruction of the piano as it went on.

 

CM  It finally was nothing.

 

JG  Oh yeah, it was completely destroyed, but I just love the passion, I love the Gaffa tape, the pink tape holding that plastic down, and the shape she was making. She's wearing them over, I mean, you can see she's barefoot with almost like potter's clay on her feet, and just these like wide pin-striped pants. There's such a good energy in that picture, it's so cool.

 

CM  Enormous energy, it's one of the most amazing modern pictures, an extraordinary picture.  That must have taken a long time.

 

JG  Well yeah, because if you look closely, you have to see the real pieces, but there (were) pictures. Oh we need a lupe really, but there was like, it was very humorous, it looked completely the period and the colours and the embroidery, but on closer inspection, see all these little sheep with their neck cut and there was blood running down, and she was powdering her cheeks and nose before the guillotine came down and she was eating like cakes in another part, all these…

CM  Unaware.

JG  It was completely mad, little scenes going on but very beautifully done.  This very kind of illustrative line that was used and then it was a really sweet dress, a very sweet dress.

CM  It's lovely.

JG  And there you can see all the inner structure.

CM  Yes, absolutely.  What I like is this has an undressed feeling…

JG  And the electrical wire and the plastic, the behind the scenes, beautiful isn't it?

CM  It is, it's marvelous. That could be almost Versailles, those things coming down.

JG  That's just beautiful, beautiful on the picture.

 

JG Stella, look at Stella.

CM  Tell us about the collection of this one.

JG  That was from the Pocahontas-inspired collection.

CM  This was the one that was at the station (Gare d’Austerlitz).

JG<

John Galliano: Modernity and Spectacle

by Caroline Evans .

Contemporary fashion is on the edge: of centuries, and of its own margins. Janus-headed, it looks simultaneously back (with nostalgia) and forward (with anxiety). Galliano is one of the former tendency whose work brilliantly sums up its paradoxes and contradictions.

This paper starts by contrasting two sets of imagery: from the 1990s, the luxurious, opulent and theatrical fashion shows of the fashion designer John Galliano and, from the second half of the nineteenth-century, the fantasy displays, rides and optical illusions of the Parisian department store and world fair. Walter Benjamin described this technique as 'literary montage', and he wrote, perhaps disingenuously, 'I have nothing to say, only to show.'1 His intention was, however, that the images would do the talking, not singly but by virtue of their juxtaposition and arrangement. Benjamin's ideas offer art and design historians a complex and sophisticated model of how visual seduction works, because his ideas are predicated on an understanding of how visual similes function, something which other historians have not privileged. His method allows us to perceive similarities across periods apparently separated by rupture and discontinuity, and to plot historical time not as something that flows smoothly from past to present but as a more complex relay of turns and returns in which the past is activated by injecting the present into it.2

My own purpose, in juxtaposing images over a hundred years apart, is neither to pinpoint superficial stylistic similarities for their own sake, nor to make facile fin-de-siécle comparisons but, rather, to situate both sets of imagery within the context and tradition of modernity. In particular, I wonder whether it is possible to 'activate' the excess and opulence of nineteenth-century Parisian consumer culture by 'injecting' it with the excess and opulence of Galliano's contemporary designs. Both are visually similar, and both are dominated by the idea of woman as spectacle. Yet the considerable differences between their historical contexts suggest that the term 'modernity' might no longer apply to both, and that Galliano's designs should be analysed in the context of 'postmodernity'. Insofar as both moments encapsulate rapid technological change and social instability, parallels can be drawn; yet there are fundamental differences in the type of change and instability between both periods which also differentiate the effects of one from the other. Thus contemporary fashion is on the edge: of centuries, and of its own margins. Janus-headed, it looks simultaneously back (with nostalgia) and forward (with anxiety). Galliano is one of the former tendency whose work brilliantly sums up its paradoxes and contradictions; as such, his work is a significant marker of a wider cultural trend.

Galliano 1990s

'Native American', Nick Knight's image from the Past, Present and Couture series, shows a garment from the Christian Dior Autumn-Winter 1998 couture collection designed by John Galliano. Entitled A Voyage on the Diorient Express, or the Story of the Princess Pocahontas, it was shown in the Gare d'Austerlitz in Paris, where the models arrived on a steam train while the audience were seated on sand-covered platforms decorated with huge bronze platters of spices to look like an oriental spice market or souk. As the visitors sat surrounded by canopies, potted palms, antique Louis Vuitton suitcases and Moroccan lanterns, consuming champagne and Turkish Delight, the train chuffed into the station and a model dressed as the Princess Pocahontas burst through a wall of orange paper at the front of the train. Only then did the train come to a halt and disgorge its cargo of models, dressed in a jumble of Native American and sixteenth-century European dress. The presentation and the majority of the garments were pure spectacle, such that the consequent press coverage was in fact rather critical of the designer for having substituted showmanship and pantomime for fashion design itself.3

The name Diorient Express stencilled onto the side of the train aptly suggested both Galliano's orientalism, which eclectically combined cultures, continents and centuries, and the disorienting effects of his showmanship. Although the Diorient Express show was, perhaps, his most excessive in terms of spectacular presentation it was far from the only one. Other shows were staged in a suburban sports stadium transformed into a forest scene with forty foot high spruce trees, the Paris Opéra converted into an English garden where the fashion photographers were given straw hats on entry, and the Carousel du Louvre, the official venue for the Paris collections, made over as a Manhattan rooftop scene, complete with battered chimney stacks, designed, like most of his shows, by the set designer Jean-Luc Ardouin. In every case, Galliano's transformation of a space involved effacing its real characteristics in the interests of imposing his fantasy vision on the space.

In keeping with the spectacular mis-en-scène of his shows of this period, each collection was based on a fantastical narrative. For example, in an earlier collection than the one illustrated, Pocahontas met Wallis Simpson in Paris, designed her own couture collection (which included beaded flapper dresses) and took it back to her tribe (the John Galliano Autumn/Winter 1996 collection); or, in the Suzy Sphinx show a punk schoolgirl who dreamt of cinema and ancient Egypt was taken from her English girl's school through Egypt to Hollywood where she starred as Cleopatra in a film, seated on a golden throne wearing a dress made entirely of golden safety pins (the John Galliano Autumn/Winter 1997 collection).

Galliano's first haute couture collection for Dior juxtaposed Maasai beading and couture historicism in full-blown evening gowns that required 410 metres of fabric. In his designs of this period, Galliano's historical research ranged far and wide. Galliano himself said 'It's a very impressionistic approach. 'It's a dialogue between past and present. The starting point is usually factual, but we allow our imaginations to run riot. The story happens differently each time. Certain things begin to go around in my head and then we start to embroider on them.'4

Sometimes his designs collaged together motifs from different cultures, juxtaposing them against each other, mixing maharaja jewels and an aigrette with Burmese neck jewellery and Afro-Caribbean braids, while styling the model to look spookily uptight and Parisian. At other times he morphed references and motifs from different periods and cultures into single fusions. His collections eclectically mix images of japonisme with those of the Weimar republic, early cinema and the belle époque, images of Empire and Maasai beading.

To his mixes of cultures and history were added a significantly different ingredient, the image and inspiration of real historical figures. He was drawn in particular to Edwardian actresses, demi-mondaines and women of independent means, all of whom were identifiable by their striking, outré or 'exotic' appearances. Flamboyant women of wealth such as Nancy Cunard and the Marchesa Casati rubbed shoulders in his collections with bohemians like Misia Sert, the artists' model and sexual libertine Kiki de Montparnasse, the actress and demi-mondaine Gaby Deslys, and the great courtesan Liane de Pougy. These real women were mingled with images from art and cinema: society women from the paintings of Boldoni, Sargent and Tissot, cinema actresses like Claudette Colbert, Theda Bara, Gloria Swanson, Marlene Dietrich and Elizabeth Taylor, and, from Britain, the aristocratic women photographed by Madame Yevonde in the 1930s. These moneyed images were mixed with references from popular culture of the past: pearly kings and queens, Hells Angels, migrant southern Italian circus folk from the 1930s. Then there were couture influences, from Madeline Vionnet's bias-cut tea gowns of the teens and 1920s and the Dior archive from the 1940s and 1950s. These too were intercut with imagery of Samoan tattooed women, Asian jewellery, African beading and native American patterned blankets, or woven with 'Europeanised' images of the orient, in figures like Suzie Wong and Madame Butterfly. Galliano's historical and cultural promiscuity can be tracked in his diaries, or sketchbooks of his collections, kept by Lady Amanda Harlech, his right hand woman from 1984 until his move to Dior as principal designer in 1996, and in his sketchbooks from 1997 onwards, some of which are reproduced in Colin McDowell's book Galliano.5 So acute and wide-ranging is Galliano's eye for the visual detail of the past, and so inventive the way he juxtaposes histories, styles and cultures, that it is hard to imagine a Galliano design which is not a visual quotation from a pre-existent source. What is unique, however is the way he kaleidoscopically fuses a range of references into a single figure.

In keeping with the spectacular quality of his designs, his fashion presentations were highly theatrical during the 1990s, both in his own name and as principal designer for Givenchy and then Dior. Although the spectacle was conceived on a grander scale in the late 1990s, all Galliano's shows had been characterised by highly developed sense of theatre. In 1984, his graduate collection from St Martin's in London, Les Incroyables, was heavily influenced by a contemporary production of Danton at the National Theatre in London where Galliano worked as a dresser while a final year student. The theatricality of this and all his subsequent collections may also have been informed by Galliano's immersion in the London club scene of the early to mid-1980s in which the relentless reinvention of the self through costume and make-up was the currency which guaranteed entry to the clubs.

In 1990 Galliano moved to Paris where he existed in a hand to mouth way; in 1993 he showed a small but very influential collection in the eighteenth-century house of the Portuguese socialite São Schlumberger. Capitalising on the fact that the empty house was up for sale, he created an atmosphere of romantic decrepitude by scattering it with dead leaves and rose petals, unmade beds and upturned chairs, and filling the air with dry ice. In July 1995 he was appointed principal designer at the couture house of Givenchy for which he produced his first couture show in January 1996 and two subsequent ready-to-wear collections before being appointed principal designer at Dior. In his couture show for Givenchy Galliano created a Princess and the Pea scenario in which two models sat twenty feet in the air preening themselves on top of a pile of mattresses. A year later, in January 1997, he produced his first couture show for Dior, audaciously staged in a fake maison de couture: in the Grand Hotel in Paris Galliano created a scaled up facsimile of the original Dior showroom, including the famous staircase on which Cocteau and Dietrich had sat in the 1950s to watch Dior's shows.6 In this, as in the 1993 show sponsored by São Schlumberger, Galliano wove instant mythologies, creating something evocative out of nothing.

With the substantial backing of a major couture house Galliano was able to create his shows on a far bigger scale than previously. Increasingly he began to use more theatrical techniques, for example replacing runway lighting with theatre lighting and minutely choreographing each section of the show three days before. Each model had only one outfit per show, thus avoiding the hectic series of rapid costume changes which characterised other fashion shows. The more conventional parade down a catwalk was replaced by a walk through series of connecting rooms dressed like film sets through which the story was told, reminiscent of the 1993 show in São Schlumberger's house when, in Galliano's words, 'the girls worked the whole house from the top floor down. It was like an old salon presentation.'7 The audience, far smaller than the usual fashion show audience, was seated in small groups in these rooms, far closer to the clothes than usual. The models, each of whom had been rehearsed like an actress by Galliano before the show, were encouraged to feel their way into, and act, the part of their characters as they paraded through the rooms, striking attitudes and poses, staging tableaux vivants as they went.

Dream Worlds:1852-1900

From the opening of the Bon Marché in Paris in 1852, the Louvre in 1855, Au Printemps in 1865, and La Samaritaine in 1869, department stores, with their radical new techniques of retail and display, rapidly became theatres of consumption. Shop windows became astounding sources of display, as did the goods inside the store, where everyday objects were rearranged by repetition into sculptural forms of flowers, castles and boats. Displays included out of season flowers, caged live birds and, later in the century, splashing electric fountains. Electric lighting further galvanised some of these displays into fairytale scenes. In addition, department stores often drew on the conventions of theatre and exhibitions to produce orientalist scenes, including living tableau of Turkish harems, Cairo markets or Hindu temples, with live dancers, music and oriental products.8

In Dream Worlds Rosalind Williams describes how, in nineteenth-century department stores and world fares, the real, commercial nature of the transaction was disguised by the creation of seductive 'dream worlds' in which the consumer lost him or herself in fantasy and reverie. In these displays, the department stores' orientalist scenarios promiscuously mingled goods from different cultures and communities in a fantasy bazaar.9 Throughout the second half of the nineteenth-century department stores also mobilised the newest scientific techniques from optics and photography to create 'cinéoramas, maréoramas and dioramas to create the illusion not only of travel in exotic places but also by balloon, above the sea, and to the surface of the moon.'10

In the same period, Paris hosted a number of International Exhibitions, in 1855, 1867, 1878, 1889 and 1900. As in department store display, these world fairs created the illusion of exotic locations. At the 1900 exhibition in particular twenty one out of the thirty three main attractions involved taking a fantasy journey to 'distant visions'.11 The World Tour traversed the length of an enormous circular canvas panorama representing, in the words of a contemporary journalist, 'without solution or continuity, Spain, Athens, Constantinople, Suez, India, China and Japan... the Acropolis next door to the Golden Horn and the Suez Canal almost bathing the Hindu forests'.12 In front of each country 'natives' danced or charmed snakes before the painting of their homeland. Having made the tour of the world, visitors to the diorama could enjoy a simulated voyage to the moon. Voyagers in the Cinéorama could make an imaginary journey in cinematic techniques to the floor of the sea or up in a balloon, standing in a stationary basket while the pictures moved before their eyes. The Maréorama reproduced a sea-voyage from France to Constantinople and involved a canvas panorama, the smell of salt air, gentle swaying motions and music from each of the regions visited. A contemporary described the music 'which takes on the colour of the country at which the ship is calling; melancholy at departure, it... becomes Arabic in Africa, and ends up Turkish after having been Venetian.'13 At night visitors to the 1900 exhibition could be dazzled by displays of electrically lit fountains or watch the belly dancers in a reproduction of a Cairo night spot.

Dialectical images
In the nineteenth century it was through the spectacles and dreamy scenarios staged in the department store that female consumption was nurtured, trained and encouraged, as well as in the great exhibitions which granted a vision of luxury consumption to a mass audience. Many of these visions have striking parallels in the staging of Galliano's shows in the 1990s, which drew on illusion, drama and theatre for their effects. Just as in the nineteenth-century 'reveries were passed off as reality'14, so Galliano's Spring-Summer 1995 presentation, in which a photo studio was made over as a private set and dressed with vintage cars against which the models posed as 'divas' from 1910 to the 1950s, 'was like a dream and not a show.'15 Galliano's spectacular runway shows, simultaneously enticement and advertisement, were highly innovative, but the link between spectacle and commodity culture was first made in the nineteenth-century. In his designs, Galliano piled up cultural references like the goods on display in nineteenth-century Parisian department stores and world fares, evoking Paris's reputation as a city of luxury goods in the luxury of his contemporary designs. Émile Zola's novel about a Paris department store in the 1860s, The Ladies' Paradise, describes a window display of female dummies dressed in the most sumptuous and elaborate fashion which suggests the textiles used by Galliano in his designs for Dior - snowfalls of costly lace, velvet rimmed with fox fur, silk with Siberian squirrel, cashmere and cocks feathers, quilting, swansdown and chenille.16

The rest rooms and roof gardens of nineteenth-century department stores, fitted with pergolas, zoos and ice rinks, strikingly resemble some Galliano show settings. Department stores were fantasy palaces through which the customers moved. The modern fashion show fulfils something of the same role, with the difference that the audience remains seated while the spectacle unfolds before them like a panorama. Perhaps the show itself, in which the stationary spectator is dazzled by lights, effects and rapid-fire presentation, has more in common with the fantasy journeys of the world fairs. In the spectacles of the 1900 exhibition colours, cultures and sounds were fused in a way very similar to the design fusions of a Galliano show; the 'Cairo belly-dancers' and 'Andalusian gypsies' of the world fair are not dissimilar to Galliano's performing models. The piling up of historical and cross-cultural references in a Galliano collection differ only in specific detail, rather than general effect, for his techniques of historical pastiche and cultural collage fuse disparate cultures and places, much as the World Tour did in the 1900 Paris Universal Exhibition by abutting a Hindu pagoda, a Chinese temple and a Muslim mosque, enlivened by live jugglers and geishas.17 And the effect both of a Galliano show and of the displays in the 1900 exhibition is to normalise, contain and manage non-European cultures through the very process of creating them as spectacle.

The 1900 exhibition had been the first to feature contemporary fashion, brightly lit by electricity, in glass cages containing couturier-clad wax dummies. In the Pavillion de la Mode were displayed thirty examples of the history of costume, including the Empress Theodora on her throne, Queen Isabelle of Bavaria waiting in a tournament, the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and Marie Antoinette at the Trianon. These historical displays of fashion randomly juxtaposed Byzantine empresses, medieval ladies and eighteenth century queens side by side, creating continuity solely through the splendour of their costume, erasing significant historical difference. Galliano's eclectic historical pastiche has something of this quality. In the 1900 exhibition twenty couture houses were represented, including Worth, Rouff (established in 1884), Paquin (established 1891) and Callot Soeurs (1896). Modern society was represented by scenes of society life, such as 'the departure for the opera', or 'a fitting at Worth.' The style of these displays resurfaced, particularly, in the staging of the Dior Spring/Summer 1998 ready-to-wear show, in a series of classical rooms dressed with period furniture and a harpsichord, around which the models draped themselves like Hollywood starlets from the 1930s. The tableaux vivants they formed recalled the wax tableaux behind glass of the 1900 exhibition, with their simulations of the luxury and extravagance of haute couture.

For the Dior couture show that same season Galliano created a giant crowd scene, a fantasy carnival of confetti and human figures in apparently endless celebration. Yet it would be wrong to confuse this fantasy crowd with the actual crowd of a Parisian international exhibition of the late nineteenth-century. The crowds at such world fairs consisted essentially of middle, lower middle and sometimes working class people; the displays made luxury and excess available as a spectacle to the many who, while they could afford the entrance ticket, could never aspire to owning the exclusive and expensive consumer goods on display. The exclusivity of the couture show has more in common, perhaps, in its studied artifice and minute attention to detail, with Huysmans novel À Rebours of 1888. Its dandyish and fastidious hero Des Esseintes constructs a dream world as a counterpoint to what he sees as the nightmare of mass consumption. Rosalind Williams argues that À Rebours 'makes a powerful case for the seductiveness of a dream world - the fascination of artifice, the beauty of the imagination, the pleasure of self-deception, the flattering sense of initiation into mysteries.'18 All these could equally describe the allure of the couture show, and couture has always been at pains to differentiate itself from the mass market. Yet, Williams goes on to argue, decadence is never free from mass consumption because it shares the same desire to be ahead of the rest, and condemns its followers to the same restless pursuit of novelty. They are doomed to the same disappointment because they have invested too many expectations in the world of goods.

For Georg Simmel, the aesthetics of world exhibitions conferred a feeling of presentness so that fashion's intensified pace 'increases our time-consciousness, and our simultaneous pleasure in newness and oldness give us a strong sense of presentness.'19 It is this same sense of 'presentness' in a late twentieth century fashion show, with its brevity and drama (it lasts no more than thirty minutes) that is created precisely through the mingling and telescoping of historical themes and pastiches. Mike Featherstone argues that the writing of both Simmel and Benjamin can 'direct us towards the ways in which the urban landscape has become aestheticized and enchanted through the architecture, billboards, shop displays, advertisements, packages, street signs, and through the embodied persons who move through these spaces: the individuals who wear... fashionable clothing, hairstyles and make-up, or who move or hold their bodies in particular stylised ways.'20 This enchantment and stylisation were replayed in the hyperreal space of the late twentieth-century catwalk.

Walter Benjamin wrote that every image of the past that is not recognised by the present as one of its own concerns threatens to disappear irretrievably.21 In contrasting these images of the late twentieth-century with others from the mid-late nineteenth-, I have tried to construct a set of what Benjamin called 'dialectical images', images which were not based on simple comparisons but which created a more complex historical relay of themes running between past and present. For Benjamin, the relationship between images of the past and the present worked like the montage technique of cinema.22 The principle of montage is that a third meaning is created by the juxtaposition of two images, rather than any immutable meaning inhering in each image. Benjamin conceived of this relationship as a dialectical one: the motifs of the past and the present functioned as thesis and antithesis. The flash of recognition, between past and present images, was the dialectical image that transformed both.23

Jolted out of the context of the past, the dialectical image could be read in the present as a 'truth'. But it was not an absolute truth, rather a truth which was fleeting and temporal, existing only at the moment of perception, characterised by 'shock' or vivid recognition.24 It was not that the past simply illuminated the present, or that the present illuminated the past; rather, the two images came together in a 'critical constellation', tracing a previously concealed connection.25 Benjamin identified some key figures - one might say key tropes - of nineteenth-century Paris as 'dialectical images': the prostitute, fashion itself, commodities, the arcades. It is as just such an image that I now turn to the question of the co-incidence of woman as spectacle and modernity in this period.

Modernity and The Spectacle of Women
The wholesale rebuilding of Paris in the second half of the century, in the grand scheme concocted between Napoleon III and the Baron Haussmann, transformed it into the city we know today and allowed the development of the 'society of the spectacle' which, I have tried to indicate, still resonates in the imagery of the contemporary fashion show.26 In the rebuilding of Paris the old, medieval quartiers were broken up and replaced with wide boulevards, open spaces and parks. With industrialisation came urbanisation and massively increased consumption. Paris became a city for the production and sale of luxury goods, and its parks and squares became new sites of display and parade. While Haussmann's rebuilding had broken up the old Parisian working class communities, who were henceforth pushed out towards the newer, industrial suburbs, new inhabitants continued to flood into Paris. New service industries flourished, providing jobs for women as waitresses, shop assistants, seamstresses, laundresses, hairdressers, servants, and milliners. Many of these women were new to Paris, without the support of friends or family. In the absence of the old certainties of class and community, in this new space of uncertainty, anyone could pretend to be anything if they had the money to buy clothes.27 Surface was full of meaning; fashion and dress became vitally important as a way of signalling an identity, but also of reading one.

The Parisian Arcades on which Walter Benjamin based his study28 date from the first half of the nineteenth-century, and housed a variety of luxury shops, clubs and, later, brothels which created a model of consumption later in the century for the Paris of the Second Empire. In the second half of the century the department store in particular played a vital role in offering middle class women the possibility of mapping out an identity through their patterns of consumption. Shopping became a leisure activity, as the department store gave middle class women new opportunities to stroll, to enjoy, to contemplate, to observe, come and go, the same opportunities afforded in the city space to the Baudelairean figure of the male flâneur. Janet Wolff has argued that they opened up a space for the woman as flâneuse.29 Mica Nava has argued that modernity gave female consumers a way of being 'at home' in the chaos, the maelstrom, of city life, and becoming the subjects as well as the objects of modernisation.30 Nava argues that middle class women were not so much left out of the spaces of modernity, as Janet Wolff had claimed, as excluded from the story by historians of modernity. For Nava fashion, men's and women's, presumably, was important in modernity precisely because of the emphasis of both on the instability of the sign. Dress signified 'rank' but also 'choice' and 'identity' - and she contends that 'women played a crucial part in the development of these taxonomies of signification.'31

While nineteenth-century Paris gave middle class women new opportunities for consumption of fashionable goods, it also saw the origins of a more élite form of contemporary fashion, haute couture. This was, and still is, the only branch of fashion to be exclusively female (there is no couture for men), and although it was available to comparatively few women it gradually set the tone for fashionable consumption across a broader spectrum of consumers.32 In the process, however, of fashionable consumption, be it in the department store or the couture house, women of all classes were themselves spectacularized; caught up in the web of images they sought to consume, they themselves became image. Increasingly the nineteenth-century 'dream world' became epitomised in the spectacle of woman, with her links to fashion and the city, in the figures of the Parisian woman of fashion, the shop girl, waitress or milliner, the prostitute, even the dummies in shop windows, and the allegorical figures of sculpture.33 The main entrance to the 1900 exhibition, at the Porte Binet, a monumental gateway on the Place de la Concorde, was surmounted by a 15 foot tall polychrome plaster statue of La Parisienne, whose robe was designed by the couturier Paquin. The sculptor, Maureau-Vaultier, subsequently specialised in small bronze figurines of Parisian ladies of fashion, generally dressed in Paquin gowns, which would be exhibited in the ladies' salons. However at the time the original statue was unveiled in 1900 it attracted both ridicule and harsh criticism for the connotations of prostitution which contemporaries saw its dress and demeanour. Their response highlighted the ambiguous and uneasy relationship of woman to spectacle in this period, particularly the slippage between the woman of fashion, the prostitute and the actress, confirming Mica Nava's point that spectacular fashion is an unstable sign. One could also make a connection here to Andreas Huyssen's formulation of mass culture as feminine at a later period in the twentieth-century, the inter-war years.34

For women, in particular, modernity was a double-coded experience, in which euphoria was juxtaposed with alienation, autonomy with objectification. While the middle class woman was relatively safe in the department store the working woman was prey to any importunity, and the instability of fashion as a sign could work equally to her disadvantage as to her advantage. Added to this, the salaries of working women were so meagre that, without family support in the city, many were driven to support themselves through prostitution.35 Anton Corbin argues that with the Haussmannisation of Paris the prostitute emerged from the shadows and circulated tirelessly in the city of spectacle. Alongside the world exhibitions and the shop windows of the new department stores the prostitute in turn came to show herself, as the commodity form was indissolubly linked to its image.36 In the 1900 Paris Exhibition this connection was explicit in the section devoted to theatre which was in the Rue de Paris and which became the main centre for soliciting at the exhibition.37 Already by the 1880s, Corbin argues, 'the prostitute... had become woman as spectacle. She paraded or exhibited herself on the terraces of high-class cafes, in the brasseries, in the café-concerts, and on the sidewalk... in this way... the primacy of the visual in sexual solicitation originated.38

Corbin has also described how, within the brothels, sexual practices became more elaborate, and more staged. Spectacles and tableaux vivants were enacted on gigantic revolving turntables, simple peepholes were replaced by draperies, mirrors, binoculars and acoustic horns hidden in the wall; prostitutes were required to perform a greater range of activities. What had previously been perceived as aristocratic tastes were now lower and middle class spectacles. Contemporary descriptions of brothels reveal fantasy settings not dissimilar to those of department stores, and it was not uncommon for brothels to renovate their establishments for each universal exhibition: opera settings, oriental scenes, Louis XV salons, and 'electric fairylands'.39 For Baudelaire the prostitute was the key figure of modernity because she was, in Benjamin's phrase, 'commodity and seller in one.'40 'As a dialectical image, she "synthesises" the form of the commodity and the content'41, and although Benjamin's comments about women in general may reveal his own ambivalence they also echo a certain nineteenth-century ambivalence about women, commodities and consumption.42

This ambivalence spilled out in the avant-garde painting of the time. In paintings of the femme fatale of the period, the Salomés and Judiths of the Decadence, where the image of desire was tinged with dread, the spectacular displays of consumer capitalism were transposed from the world of goods to the woman herself. Colin McDowell has suggested that Galliano's work from the mid-1990s exhibited the same ambivalence in his projection of a libidinous female image, 'bringing echoes of hookers, geishas, hostesses in opium dens'.43 In this context, his fascination with spectacular historical figures of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries echoes the ambivalence of that period. His Christian Dior haute couture collection for Autumn/Winter 1997 reconfigured the belle époque and, specifically, Colette as a showgirl. His own label collection for Autumn-Winter 1998 referred to the vampish and ambiguous sexuality of German cabaret in the Weimar period. These shows evoked pre-war Paris as a city of spectacle and luxury, and post-war Berlin as a city of modernist experimentation and decadence. Whether his references were to real historical figures or images from cinema and art, his particular fascination with women who used their sexuality spectacularly to make their way in the world harked back to the ambiguous relation of sexuality, commerce and fashion in the modernist period.

Modernity into Postmodernity

There are many competing usages of the terms modernity, modernisation and modernism, particularly between the social sciences and the humanities traditions. A number of historians, for whom the idea of modernity is bound up with an analysis of industrial capitalist society as a form of rupture from the preceding social system, have used the term to designate the enormous social and cultural changes which took place from the mid sixteenth-century in Europe.(44) For the sociologist Max Weber, the origins of capitalism lay in the Protestant ethic; its leitmotifs were modernisation and rationalisation but also, and crucially, ambiguity.45 It is both this sense of ambiguity, and the concept of historical rupture, which inform my exploration of the links between women, fashion, modernity, the city and capitalism. It is beyond the scope of this paper (and beyond me) to plot a precise and structural connection between Western fashion and modernity by tracking back through European culture. Furthermore, such an enterprise might construct a linear history which, in a sense, runs counter to my project.46 As outlined earlier, I have instead drawn on Walter Benjamin's concept of dialectical images, juxtaposing the more spectacular manifestations of the consumer explosion of the nineteenth century against those of the late twentieth-century fashion show to illuminate the historical relay between past and present.

Throughout I have drawn extensively on Elizabeth Wilson's writing on fashion and modernity. Although Susan Buck-Morss discusses fashion in The Dialetics of Seeing, an imaginative reconstruction of Walter Benjamin's Arcades Project, published in 1991, only Elizabeth Wilson has focused exclusively on the nexus between women, modernity, fashion and the city.47 Wilson argues that fashion and modernity share a double-sided quality, because they are both formed in the same crucible, that of 'the early capitalist city'.48 It is this double-sided quality that informs my use of the term 'modernity'; it combines, on the one hand, fragmentation, dissonance and alienation with, on the other, euphoria, excitement and the pleasures of self-fashioning and of novelty and artifice. This double-sided quality also, and specifically, characterises the spectacle of women in the modernist period.

In Charles Baudelaire's The Painter of Modern Life he defined the experience of modernity in nineteenth-century Paris as 'the ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent.'49 These ideas were later developed in Georg Simmel's discussion of 'neurasthenia' and Walter Benjamin's concept of 'shock'. Simmel related fashion to the fragmentation of modern life and discussed its neurasthenia, that is, the overstimulation and nervous excitement which came with the growth of the metropolis. He associated fashion with the middle classes and with the city, as well as with the stylisation of everyday objects (for him the Jugendstil movement in Germany) and he pointed to a close relation between art, fashion and consumer culture, a connection which became topical again in the 1990s. Benjamin's concept of shock also related to Baudelaire's modernité in his descriptions of life in Baudelaire's Paris - for Benjamin the ur-city of modernity - as being characterised by 'shocks, jolts and vivid presentness captured by the break with traditional forms of sociation'.50 Again, one could point to present-day similarities in the changing social patterns of work, leisure and the family in the late twentieth-century. The so-called weakening of the family structure was a feature of nineteenth-century Paris too, when populations drifted to the cities in huge numbers.

Both Simmel and Benjamin imply the idea of rupture with the past, a sense which could also be said to have characterised the last twenty years of the twentieth-century. Hal Foster suggests that today Baudelaire's 'shock' has become electronic; he writes that we are wired to spectacular events and 'psycho-techno thrills'.51 The question raised in Hal Foster's observation is whether our electronic shock is radically different from Benjamin's, or whether traces of the past still echo in the present.52 Whereas Baudelaire, Simmel and Benjamin wrote about the effects of inustrialisation on urban populations, the late twentieth century has been characterised, rather, by an information revolution which started thirty years ago with the first satellites in space but has escalated in the last five to ten years with the spread of electronic and digital forms of communication.

This technological revolution, although very different in its effects, has produced a sense of upheaval and change which can be compared to the effects of industrialisation in nineteenth-century Paris. Above all, the rise of the information society has produced a comparable sense of rupture in contemporary sensibilities and social practices.53 The 'intoxicating dream worlds' of the nineteenth-century, with its 'constantly changing flow of commodities, images and bodies'54 was replaced in the late twentieth-century by the rapid flow of signs and images. Although the contemporary experience was lead by communications and new technology, rather than by industry, both were periods of accelerated transition which perhaps explains the prominent role of fashion in each. Fashion itself is about rapid change, and can articulate modern sensibilities in a time of transition. Indeed, Gilles Lipovetsky has argued that the instability of fashion trains us to be flexible and adaptable, so that modern fashion is socially reproductive and not, as some would argue, irrational and wasteful. He writes that 'fashion socialises human beings to change and prepares them for perpetual recycling,'55 and argues that the kinetic, open personality of fashion is the personality which a society in the process of rapid transformation most needs.

Most theorists of postmodernism have posited it as a moment of absolute rupture with the past. Yet there are also enough similarities, as I have sketched, to suggest, as Lyotard does in The Postmodern Condition, that postmodernism is simply another stage, or development, of modernism and that there is no radical break with the past.56 Galliano's retro images, ushering back the historical styles of modernity, remind us of the way the past can continue to resonate in the present. His nostalgic designs conjure up an earlier period idleness and luxury, yet the historical period he draws on was also, like the present, a time of mutability, instability and rapid change, when all fixed points seemed to be in motion, and in which the image of woman was correspondingly highly charged. For the image of woman as commodity and consumer is as ambivalently coded today, in the work of Galliano, as a hundred years ago in the Parisian woman of fashion.

Yet, for all the similarities, there are also some fundamental differences related precisely to changes in technology around the image which have transformed modern fashion, including the marketing of Dior and Galliano, despite their nostalgic evocations of the past. It is the paramount and altered role of the image in contemporary culture, and particularly in fashion, which differentiates Galliano's practice from his nineteenth-century referents, however insistently he harks back to them in his design motifs. Whereas historically the imagery of fashion was an adjunct to fashionable dress, increasingly the relationship of the two shifted, so that fashion began to function equally as image and object, nowhere more so than in the spectacular fashion shows staged in London and then Paris in the 1990s. Only a very small number of people experienced the old-fashioned intimacy of a Galliano show, seated close enough to the models to see the fine detailing of the clothes, like the original Dior customers in the 1940s and 1950s. Yet many more people became familiar with the 1990s' collections than in the 1950s, as these designs were increasingly conveyed to a mass audience through the new visual media: magazines, books and videos, on the television and on the Internet. An haute couture collection which would not appear in the shops, such as John Galliano's collections for Dior, or Alexander McQueen's for Givenchy, would almost certainly only be experienced through images. Susan Sontag has argued that in the modern period our perception of reality is shaped by the type and frequency of images we receive. Sontag writes that from the mid nineteenth-century 'the credence that could no longer be given to realities understood in the form of images was now being given to realities understood to be images, illusions', and goes on to cite Feurebach's observation of 1843, also cited by Debord at the beginning of The Society of the Spectacle: 'our era prefers the image to the thing, the copy to the original, the representation to the reality, appearance to being.'57

But if the new technologies have altered our access to image and meaning, nevertheless many of the techniques of the image, in retailing and marketing, remind us of their origins in nineteenth-century Paris. In this there is an ambiguity. The new emphasis on the image contains within it the trace of the past. A feathered and sequinned evening flapper dress by Galliano for Dior does not merely gesture stylistically towards the past but conceals deeper, structural similarities beneath its surface. If there is a similarity, it is in the spectacular patterns of consumption of the nineteenth century modernist city, specifically Paris, a city in which women frequently stage themselves as spectacle, be it the bourgeoisie consumers of the department stores, or the more ambiguously coded showgirl. Woman, like the image itself, is an unstable sign.

And if there is a difference, it is that the spectacle in the 1990s has mutated into pure image. Never before have so many seen so much of what goes on behind its closed doors: but only as a representation. Spectacle is not represented in these haute couture fashion shows, as the visits to the moon or the far East were supposedly represented in the cinéoramas or dioramas of the nineteenth century: now the spectacle is a representation. Print and digital media have taken the space occupied by world fairs, and we consume this kind of spectacle primarily through visual media: magazines, newspapers, television, the internet and video.58 If the technology improves to give pictures of high enough quality, even fashion photography could become digitalised in the future, banishing film. The photographer would licence the magazine to use the images he transmitted to them electronically, via the computer, making analogue techniques of reproduction outmoded, perhaps appropriately for a kind of fashion which can be consumed exclusively as image not as object. Couture clothing will never appear in the shops. Its appearance to us as image is phantasmagoric. And, appropriately, the role of the fashion show has changed with its increasing public visibility. No longer necessary to sell the clothes to buyers and clients, for the collection will have been sold a few weeks before the show, it remains a ghostly spectacle, a view into a designer's mind, captured fleetingly in images. As such, it evokes Susan Sontag's claim that 'a society becomes 'modern' when one of its chief activities is producing and consuming images'.59

Yet these images are not free-floating signifiers but part of a network of signs which constitute an expanded 'society of the spectacle.' In the 1990s, Galliano was described by the British fashion journalist Sally Brampton as 'the greatest 3-D image-maker alive'. Brampton argued that he was partly responsible for the greatly increased attendance at the Paris shows, which she described as 'a media feeding frenzy as newspapers and television stations around the world give increasing prominence to fashion.'60 These images do not exist in some rarefied realm of art for art's sake, but as a commercial and marketing stratagem. Stéphane Wagner, professor and lecturer in communications at the Institut Francais de la Mode said in 1997 'If we accept that much of haute couture is about squeezing out maximum media coverage - good or bad - then the more spectacular the presentation and collection, the better. And from that point of view the English are the best by far.'(61)

Although traditionally Paris has been a centre of luxury, London has always had the edge in terms of imaginative presentation. This is due in part to the system of education in certain British art and design schools, in part to the comparative lack of infrastructure in Britain, so that young designers leaving college have nothing to loose and everything to gain by putting on spectacular and extravagant shows which will catch the attention of press and buyers. For them, as for their Victorian predecessors in the production of consumer goods, the spectacle is 'the theatre through which capitalism acts.'(62) Most practically, it is how they will get a backer. In rare cases, it may lead to them being recruited by a major Parisian couture house. Spectacle, therefore, does not function outside of the realms of consumption and discourse but, rather, from within those structures, as their 'voice.' What is new, however, is the way that new technology and communications have expanded the network of spectacle into the new visual media.

 

Originally published in The Fashion Business: theory, practice, image, edited by Nicola White and Ian Griffiths, Oxford: Berg, 2000.

Notes

1. Quoted in Susan Buck-Morss, The Dialectics of Seeing: Walter Benjamin and the Arcades Project, MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass. & London, England, 1989. References in this article are to the paperback edition, 1991: 73 & 222
2. For a discussion of fashion and Benjamin's historical method, see: Ulrich Lehmann, 'Tigersprung: Fashioning History', Fashion Theory, Vol.3, issue 3, September 1999: 297-322
3. For example, see Susannah Frankel, 'Galliano Steams Ahead with Any Old Irony', The Guardian, 21 July 1998: 10
4. Colin McDowell, Galliano, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, 1997: 51
5. Ibid. McDowell reproduces several interesting pages from Galliano's sketchbooks which show the breadth of his eclecticism. 
6. McDowell, ibid: 38
7. McDowell, ibid: 169
8. Rosalind H. Williams, Dream Worlds: Mass Consumption in Late Nineteenth-Century France, University of California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles & Oxford, England, 1982. For a review of the literature on the nineteenth-century French department store see Mica Nava, 'Modernity's Disavowal: Women, the City and the Department Store' in Pasi Falk & Colin Campbell (eds), The Shopping Experience, Sage Publications, London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi, 1997: 56-91
9. Williams, ibid: 66-72
10. Nava, op. cit.: 67
11. Williams, op. cit.: 73
12. Michel Corday, 'À l'Éxposition - Visions lointaines', Revue de Paris, 15 March 1900. Quoted in Williams, op. cit.: 74
13. Williams, op. cit.: 75
14. Williams, op.cit.: 65
15. Joseph Ettegui, owner of Joseph: from Videofashion News, vol.19 no.20, 'Paris Reflections', Spring-Summer 1995 
16. Émile Zola, The Ladies Paradise, trans. with an introduction by Brian Nelson, Oxford University Press, Oxford & New York, 1995: 6
17. Philippe Jullian, The Triumph of Art Nouveau: the Paris Exhibition of 1900, Phaidon Press, London, 1974: 169
18. Williams, op. cit.: 145. Williams argues that dandyism, and Huysman's À Rebours, were an élitist challenge to mass consumption.
19. Mike Featherstone, Consumer Culture and Postmodernism, Sage Publications, London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi, 1991: 74
20. Featherstone, ibid: 76
21. Walter Benjamin, 'Theses on the Philosophy of History', Illuminations, trans, Harry Zohn, Fontana/Collins, London, 1973: 257
22. Buck Morss, op. cit.: 250
23. Buck-Morss, ibid
24. Buck-Morss, ibid: 185, 221, 250 & 290
25. Buck-Morss. ibid: 290-291
26. My use of the term 'spectacle' derives from Guy Debord's The Society of the Spectacle, trans. Malcolm Imrie, Verso, London 1888 (first published 1967) in which Debord argues that everyday life is colonised by a new phase of commodity production. Debord, however, situates this phase in the 1920s, whereas others locate it as far back as the court of Louis XIV: Williams, op. cit. and Martin Jay, Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth Century French Thought, University of California Press, Berkeley, Los Angeles & London, England, 1993:432. I have discussed modernity in the context of nineteenth-century Paris, following both Walter Benjamin and, more recently, T.J. Clark, The Painting of Modern Life: Paris in the Art of Manet and his Followers, Princeton UP, Princeton, & Thames & Hudson, London, 1984. Thomas Richards provides a useful model of the application of Debord's ideas to nineteenth-century Britain in The Commodity Culture of Victorian England: Advertising and Spectacle, 1851-1914, Verso, London & New York, 1991. A very useful consideration of the convergence of spectacle and modernity, in relation to late nineteenth-century woman, is Heather McPhearson's 'Sarah Bernhardt: Portrait of the Actress as Spectacle', Nineteenth-Century Contexts, vol.20, no.4, 1999: 409-454. Thanks to Carol Tulloch for bringing this invaluable article to my attention.
27. T.J. Clark, ibid: 47
28. Walter Benjamin, The Arcades Project, trans. Howard Eiland & Kevin McLauchlin, The Belknap Press of Harvard Univeristy Press, Cambridge Mass & London England, 1999
29. Janet Wolff, 'The invisible flâneuse: women and the literature of modernity' in Feminine Sentences: Essays on Women and Culture, Polity Press, Cambridge England, 1990
30. Nava, in: Falk & Campbell (eds), op. cit.: 57
31. Nava, in: Falk & Campbell (eds), op. cit: 66
32. Diana de Marly, Worth: Father of Haute Couture, Holmes & Meier, New York, 1980. De Marly argues that Worth had, by the 1870s, initiated many of the business and bureaucratic practices which would, in the twentieth-century, define a couture house. 
33. For example, see Jullian, op. cit., for an discussion of the allegorical figure of electricty at the 1900 Paris exhibition.
34. Andreas Huyssen, After the Great Divide: Modernism, Mass Culture, Postmodernism, Macmillan, Basingstoke, 1986. See chapter on 'Mass Culture as Woman: Modernism's Other'
35. Elizabeth Wilson, The Sphinx in the City: Urban Life, the Control of Disorder, and Women, Virago, London, 1991: 49-50
36. Alain Corbin, Women for Hire: Prostitution and Sexuality in France After 1850, trans. Alan Sheridan, Harvard University Press, Cambridge Mass, 1990
37. Jullian, op. cit.: 175
38. Corbin, op. cit.: 205
39. Corbin, op. cit.: 123-5
40. Buck-Morss, op. cit.: 184
41. Ibid 
42. Nava, op. cit.: 81. Yet he also suggests fashion can be emblematic of social change: Buck-Morss, op. cit.: 101. There is a discussion of his ambivalence in Jane Gaines & Charlotte Herzog (eds), Fabrications: Costume and the Female Body, Routledge, New York and London, 1990: 1-27
43. McDowell, op. cit.: 117 . 'John, we are told, loves women, but it is not easy to avoid the thought that, within that love lurks a fear which must be laid to rest by pastiche or, even more compelling, the suspicion that it is a love so intense it also encompasses a degree of hatred'
44. Bryan S. Turner (ed), Theories of Modernity and Postmodernity, Sage Publications, London, Newbury Park, New Delhi, 1990 discusses the major debates and cites key texts.
45. Bryan S Turner, 'Periodization and Politics in the Postmodern', in Turner (ed), ibid: 1-13
46. Benjamin, too, wrote: 'in order for a piece of the past to be touched by present actuality, there must exist no continuity between them' for the historical object is constituted as dialectical image by being 'blasted out of the coninuum of history'. Cited in Buck-Morss, op.cit.: 219
47. Elizabeth Wilson, Adorned in Dreams: Fashion and Modernity, Virago, London, 1985. See too Elizabeth Wilson, The Sphinx in the City: Urban Life, the Control of Disorder, and Women, Virago, London, 1991, which, like this paper, uses Walter Benjamin to connect the nineteenth-century city to the urban consciousness of the present.
48. Wilson, Adorned in Dreams, ibid: 9
49. Charles Baudelaire, 'The Painter of Modern Life', The Painter of Modern Life and Other Essays, trans. Jonathan Mayne, Phaidon Press, London, 1964: 12
50. Featherstone, op. cit.: 65 
51. Hal Foster, The Return of the Real: the Avant-Garde at the End of the Century, MIT Press, Cambridge Mass & London England, 1996: 221-2
52. Featherstone, op.cit, argues that postmodernism is a continuation of modernity, and that is why the writing of Simmel and Benjamin still resonate in the present: see his chapter 5, 'the Aestheticization of Everyday Life': 65-82
53. For a discussion of the effect of new technologies on sensibilities and social practice see: Anthony Giddens, Reith Lectures, BBC Publications, London, 1999
54. Featherstone, op. cit.: 70
55. Gilles Lipovetsky, The Empire of Fashion: Dressing Modern Democracy, trans. Catherine Porter, Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey, 1994: 149
56. Jean-FranÁois Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, trans. Geoffrey Bennington & Brian Massumi, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1984
57. Susan Sontag, On Photography, Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, 1972: 153. More empirically-based studies of the impact of new visual technologies on sensibilities see: Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth-Century, MIT Press, Cambridge Mass & London England, 1990; Scott McQuire, Visions of Modernity: Representation, memory, Time and Space in the Age of the Camera, Sage Publications, London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi, 1998
58. Throughout the majority of the twentieth-century the couture houses prohibited the use of cameras at the collections and press photographs of fashion shows only became common in the 1980s and '90s. 
59. Sontag, op. cit.: 153
60. Guardian, 14 October 1998
61. Quoted in: Stephen Todd, 'The Importance of Being English', Blueprint, March 1997: 42
62. Richards, op. cit: 251