It was not quite adoration, but it held us rather entranced. Marc Jacobs's autumn/winter collection—Joy, Period—was delight for the wardrobe in a dollhouse
Some people say that a good designer never really grows up. And that they play with dolls, even if figuratively, for a good part of their career, if not forever. Marc Jacobs seemed to affirm that impression with the late showing (as usual) of his autumn/winter 2024 collection. The clothes—curiously proportioned, as if to fill the wardrobe of life-sized Barbie with a taste for the outré—were imbued with a certain idealism and fantasy. They were a coupling of the rigorous and the wondrous. And seemed to be conceived for the collector than the average consumer. A strange proposition considering that Marc Jacobs the label does not sell in spades. Or, flood the red carpet. But Mr Jacobs did illustrate that, unlike any other designer showing in New York, he is inclined to create, to innovate, to say something, even if, sometimes, it is based on what has been uttered.
The designs projected a positive vibe—remarkable when we are bogged in a disorienting world of the adverse and the gloomy (two major wars have not ended). In the show notes, Mr Jacobs wrote optimistically: "While the future remains unwritten, I am steadfast in my daily practice of choosing love over hate, faith over fear, and finding pause in reflection. I believe in living with authenticity—free from validation and permission of absurd conservatism and societal norms." Is that pregnant with political flak? A jab at the right? Mr Jacobs's authenticity—which included his own long, fancily painted and decorated nails—appeared stemmed in some unknown reverie. Or, for some, dreams—head trips that supposedly enhances the creative process, as our own beloved Frederick Lee frequently purports. But perhaps, just as enjoyable was the irreverent spirit and the exaggerated primness that, together, have become somewhat of Marc Jacobs's signature.
The show, as before, was staged in the New York Public Library. Nothing fancy—no sets, no clean, white runway, perhaps to better let the clothes be distinctive and conspicuous. Every look is a study in composition, in the light of nostalgia. The first appeared to be homage to the dress Marilyn Monroe wore in the 1955 Billy Wilder film The Seven Year Itch, except that now, the halterneck was thick and the bust exaggerated the brassiere shapes of the '50s. And, as Ms Monroe's skirt was blown up, so too was what Mr Jacobs's model wore, but it remained in that gravity-defying state as she walked. Motion even at rest. In fact, quite a few of the skirts were able to stay that way, which attested to Mr Jacobs's engineering flair. Similarly, many of the pieces—boxy jackets with the neckline that won't meet the neck or gowns with fichu that stood resolutely away from the neck too—seemed to mimick paper dresses affixed on paper dolls cut too slender.
This show could be an extension of the previous season, when the models, also doll-like (perhaps more akin to Stepford Wives?), paraded under massive furniture that could have belonged to the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk. As it was then, Mr Jacobs again redefined the idea of the ideal fit. The clothes sat well on the body, but they appeared constructed on a dress form not based on the typical body. Some pieces were a deliberate tease of fashion clichés, such as the 'yellow polka-dotted bikini', now bulkier in silhouette. There was a discernible avowal of the acceptable. "We use fashion to embrace bold and courageous self-expression to articulate and showcase our inner selves," Mr Jacobs continued in the show notes, "allowing us to freely explore and display our thoughts, desires, and identities in a deeper pursuit of joy, beauty, and personal transformation." On her recent dance single Joy, Jodie Harsh sings: "Sun is coming out, no more rain, it's all changing. Happiness I've not had before and I'll take it." We too.
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