Marrakesh, the place where Yves Saint Laurent the man came to relax, set the scene for Anthony Vaccarello's most relaxed menswear collection yet.
in 1966, and it became a lifelong sanctuary where he would go to escape Paris. It was here that he would design his collections by hand, entertain his circle of bohemian jet-setters in a decadent cloud of hashish, and lovingly cultivate the most exquisite collection of African and Middle Eastern art and furniture. Having grown up in neighbouring Algeria, Morocco became somewhat of a spiritual homeland for the couturier.
Today, with both Yves and Pierre gone, the city is part of Saint Laurent’s rich heritage. Given that this is one of the hottest summers on record, staging a show here offered a delicious paradox of an ostensibly simple setting — a round pond in the vast expanse of the desert – and the increasingly frenetic pace of more and more fashion shows in far-flung locations.
Beyond the spectacular backdrop, however, the show offered up brilliant clothes for whatever the forecast. Anthony was keen to avoid all the clichés that come with staging a Saint Laurent show in Marrakesh: those of Yves and Pierre Bergé in Marrakesh ; the pervasive sandy wardrobe of striped-cotton djellabas, desert linens, safari suits ; or even the trap of covering Parisian staples with Moroccan embroideries with a lengthy lecture about the importance of global craftsmanship .
Letting the desert do the heavy lifting, the 50 looks were a masterclass in restraint, the sartorial equivalent to chic whispers in contrast to the roaring showmanship of a giant ring light emerging from desert water. The collection offered an elegant take on masculinity that speaks to a generation of men unafraid to pair traditionally feminine blouses with butt-clenching high-waisted trousers — and don’t want to label it as anything as contrived as “fluidity”.
After all, this is Saint Laurent! Anthony is simply continuing the grand tradition of androgyny that Yves experimented with in reverse, inspired by a tuxedo-wearing Marlene Dietrich in the 1930 movie. Just as Yves encouraged a generation of women to wear trousers, Anthony might do the same with men and gauzy blouses, pussy bows diaphanously blowing in the wind, and wasp-waisted, perpendicular-shoulders suits worn with nothing but plunging masculine décolletage.
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