When Enfants Riches Déprimés hits town, it’s like an invasion of cool club kids from another planet. This time around, the posse alighted in the grand former apartments of Karl Lagerfeld, on the Left Bank, examples of founder Henri Alexander Levy’s sculptures in tow along with the clothes. Even the designer’s grandparents turned up in the front row.
While military influences are a constant for Levy’s enfants, the designer said backstage that he wanted to bring a little more romance to this lineup, for example by “obsessing” over velvet for spring—here in a swingy black coat with contrasting white lining and lapels—and incorporating moody shades of burgundy and blue. He also focused on reconstructing an imaginary character, a kind of hybrid beamed down to the 21st century by way of scene-maker René Ricard, Television’s Tom Verlaine, Neil Young, Led Zeppelin and 1980s tailoring (Richard Hell even turned up to rock a Bordeaux suit).
“I never like to do a show where it looks like I am playing with the same silhouette, but I was really interested in reworking ’80s suiting with subtle variations and new weaves,” Levy said. Floods were a through line, perhaps scrunched at the waist with a slim dropped belt or paired with “preppy shirting, but mixed in a dirty way,” Levy quipped. “It’s the oddities and the things that are wrong that move it.”
Much of the women’s offering was straight-up retro, for example a sheer “couture” gown inspired by a trove of vintage magazines Levy said he unearthed somewhere in Normandy; a high-necked black Victorian number; and a little yellow floral look, including a Peter Pan-collared gray top, corseted belt and granny briefs. Elsewhere, a doll outfit spotted at a museum in Mexico was the springboard for a layered dress printed with black and white portraits of children. But it was the menswear—or at least menswear-inspired—pieces that were most impactful, from jackets in crunchy linen or leather to officer jackets and a sweeping redingote. “It’s like you might see him out and almost wish you could look like him, but no one would look like that. But it feels very natural,” the designer offered, somewhat circuitously. Everything, he added, reflects what he wants to wear himself, from the ties and jewelry—some inspired by 18th-century dog collars—to the clothes. Which, ultimately, might be the key to ERD’s success: it’s a uniform contrived for those who aspire to orbit Levy’s particular star.
