Christophe Lemaire says he thinks of his clothes in context, so the venue for his shows is important. Today s was an old printing works, and its perfectly proportioned theatricality made an apt backdrop for a presentation whose subtle drama had something of the stage about it. Lemaire has distilled his fashion formula for both men and women to seven key elements: overcoat, blouson, suit, pants, sweater, boots, belt. If that sounds like death to free creative rein, the designer managed to produce, within those strictly defined limits, a collection that was filled with character.
Last season was so intimate that Lemaire felt like taking Fall outdoors. Outerwear—oversize, mannish coats, some with a strong military caste—was the spine of the presentation. The rest of the clothes, a few incongruous printed pieces aside, took their cue from the coats. Lean, high-waisted pants, strong-shouldered jackets, and Mao-ish combos defined the reductive essence of Lemaire s proposition. The soundtrack—it evoked an Anna Karenina-like meeting on a train station platform, with Françoise Hardy s smoky, lovelorn vocal accompaniment—drenched the whole thing in thwarted romance. And as always there were the subtly decorative accessories—the tiny immaculate leather bags steam-molded by Florentine artisans—to suggest the rich inner life of Lemaire s women.
