In 2005, the Musée des Arts Décoratifs in Paris mounted a Yohji Yamamoto retrospective titled, “Just Some Clothes.” Twenty years later, he would be the first to say that making clothes is exactly what he continues to do; only tonight, we were also witnessing Yohji Yamamoto, the couturier.
Even more than previous seasons, and despite the fact that this remained ready-to-wear, we were treated to a moving show where his workmanship was tremendous in all its forms—from minimalist shrouds that swung around the body to complex yet delicate applications of pleating, knotting and draping that evinced maximalist artistry.
The clothes also alluded to art: the abstract white paint markings early in the lineup like compositions that went from canvas to dress; the fringing and shredding so wispy and diaphanous it could stand alongside the works of Sheila Hicks and Olga de Amaral; looping bands of white and black that resembled Pierre Soulages’s black gauche and walnut stain paintings on paper if they were in 3D. Even the fine traces of ink on the models’ faces could be read as wayward calligraphic lines.
For all the constants of a Yohji Yamamoto women’s show—the long, chiaroscuro runway under the chandeliers in the grand salon at City Hall, the slow, contemplative pacing, the tender music—his collections are never predictable. And in the wake of Giorgio Armani’s death last month, he added two more looks. Both black sheaths, one featured calligraphy on the front and Shalom Harlow from a 1998 Giorgio Armani campaign image on the back; the other incorporated the invitation to Armani’s 50th-anniversary show and Kristen McMenamy in a tuxedo from ’97.
The designers met when Yamamoto showed up to one of Armani’s store openings in Paris several decades ago. Backstage, Yamamoto reached into a pocket and produced the invitation. Just as he had paid tribute to Azzedine Alaïa and Karl Lagerfeld after they died, he was honoring another legend.
At exactly the moment that Yamamoto was asked about the sequence of these explorations (which also included a deconstructed series in fluttery white; gown-like forms wrapped with tartan and dresses with lashings of beadwork) the esteemed Paris art critic and museum program director Donatien Grau appeared and proposed his hot take. “It’s a journey across couture to Japan.” In that case, a pilgrimage outfitted with sandal boots and fingerless gloves.
Which brings us to the final series involving red cloaks like those in renaissance paintings; the models removed them so that they trailed poetically, then stood and waited for a recreation of what is arguably Yamamoto’s most emblematic creation. From 1986, a black coat burst open once again on a red bustle of filmy fabric, now with calligraphy that surely held some meaning. Not mourning, though, Yamamoto assured. If anything, there was something to this show that was profoundly life-affirming.
