Ellen Hodakova Larsson’s fall collection, brimming with ingenuity, humor, and poetry, was a true representation of the “everyday” that high fashion has been trying to hitch its wagon to this season. Those efforts have been unsuccessful, or at least unbelievable, because while luxury fashion can be ready-to-wear, casual, and even look “trashy,” by definition it exists apart and above the ordinary. There is nothing quotidian about its price points, nor, more important, the giant and sophisticated industrial and marketing power supporting it. The corporatization of fashion has moved the idea of luxury ever closer to perfection, and in this scenario machina trumps manus.
Larsson, in contrast, delights in imperfection and inventiveness, from the hand-painted ceilings and walls of her small Stockholm atelier to a delectable and unforgettable spoon dress. This Swede has built a practice of finding treasure where others see trash. She crafts witty, contemporary classics using existing materials, many of which carry a patina that only time can impart. Bras, belts, metal trays, a constellation of buttons, waistbands, and underwires have all been through her alchemical hands. Through her work—which often involves turning things over (see the trouser dresses) and inside out (the garments made of lining fabrics), patchworking (fall’s argyles), and accumulating—Larsson is literally and figuratively turning the idea of value upside down.
There’s a groundedness to Larsson’s work that comes from the materiality and physicality of her bricolage pieces, and which is related, especially this season, to the designer’s own values and upbringing. A former competitive equestrienne, she was raised on a working farm that, she said on a call, made her “very aware of what things cost, what you can do, how you can grow things yourself—what you can do with nothing in general.” It’s been proven over and over how limitations foster creativity, and that was on show today. Suiting, always a strong category here, was present, but more room was made for knitwear and simpler, less voluminous iterations of Hodakova’s signature upside-down pant-dresses. Smart tufted looks referenced the chesterfield sofas the designer grew up with. The attaché case that turned into a dress belonged to her father. Swedish radio played as it always does in the stables chez Larsson. The designer has made it a signature to crown every collection with a dress made of one object: This time, prize ribbons replaced the spoons and watches of yore in a nod to Larsson’s horsey past. Beret shoulders on a top (Look 7) and a top made of molded-metal serving trays flirted with the romance of Paris.
As a LVMH Prize finalist, Larsson has been recognized by the establishment, yet the power and appeal of her brand are related to its outsider status that extends way beyond geography (Sweden vs. France)—Hodakova is a global brand—to a way of existing in the world. For Larsson, and many of her generation, working sustainability is a nonnegotiable given, and value is related to utility, longevity, and delight. “For me,” she said, “luxury means enjoying life and being present.”
