Photo illustration: The Cut, photo: courtesy of Marc Jacobs
Last night, on a cool summer evening after a storm, Marc Jacobs held his latest show at the public library. I felt like I was in the 1960s at a Long Island country club dance or a Southern cotillion. The opening white dress, in crisp cotton and eyelets, had a billowing skirt that literally seemed to float away from the body. The final three gowns, with their bows at the waist and long white gloves, recalled the demure princess style worn by millions of women in the ’60s and early ’70s. I was reminded of Nixon’s daughters, Tricia and Julie.
The show’s conservative style, with its boxy little suits and Peter Pan-collar baby doll dresses, was not just for the establishment elite, but reflected a time of intense political and cultural change, spurred by the Free Speech Movement, the horrors of the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement and women’s fight for equality. At a time when the Western world once again finds itself at something of a crossroads, with liberal values in retreat, Jacobs’ clothes could be read as a mockery of conservatism and its prison of nostalgia.
Photo courtesy of Marc Jacobs
Indeed, there was nothing straight about Jacobs’ designs. White dresses, with skirts that flew in the air and seemed to spin in circles, looked frozen like Madame Tussauds dolls. Even the models’ hairstyles seemed lacquered, frozen in time, and their pastel eyeshadow and long, dark lashes recalled Holly Golightly’s strange nightshades. Breakfast at Tiffany’sNotice how many styles seem purposefully off: the back of one skirt is lifted as if the model is pulling down the elastic in her pants, the neckline is slightly crooked, the shoulders of a suit or sweater rolled forward. Is it poor posture? Or a refusal to conform or adapt?
“We tried not to overthink anything,” Jacobs said later. He was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and long, bejeweled nails. Either way, Jacobs and his studio team had a lot on their minds. They also left room for interpretation, and to me that’s one of the most exciting things about his work over the past seven or eight years. He rarely gives interviews backstage after his shows these days. Instead, he shares a few words in the press notes.
Photo courtesy of Marc Jacobs
This time, he said, “The future is yet to be written, but I choose love over hate, faith over fear, and adhere to the daily habit of taking time to reflect. I believe in living authentically, free from the approval and permission of absurd conservatism and societal norms.” He noted that people use fashion to express their identity and aesthetic. In other words, fashion is “joy, that’s all.”
The collection was bold, but at the same time, it couldn’t help but feel like a critique of conservative attitudes, including “quiet luxury.” Much of the boldness came from a strong palette of deep blues, pinks, and reds, often combined or peppered with splashes of chartreuse and pure white. An oversized white jacket, paired with a bright red A-line skirt and turquoise pumps with elven upturned toes, was a refrain that twisted the colors of the flag with a footwear and Fourth of July gathering. An off-the-shoulder pink gingham top and denim skirt were pure Daisy Mae. Dogpatch comics.
Photo courtesy of Marc Jacobs
In a way, many of the shapes are cartoonish, but not without meaning. Nor without beauty or purely adorable innocence. As in his last great collection in February, Jacobs had some of the clothes pre-draped, others placed slightly away from the body. In his new collection, even the modest, old-fashioned bikinis were placed slightly away from the body. It was an interesting effect, recalling the imperfect fit of paper doll dresses. But it was also a palimpsest of Jacobs’ earlier style and attitude, to which many would rather not return. It may not have been Jacobs’ intention in this moving show, but it is nonetheless his rare power.