ハイダー・アッカーマンの驚異的なトムフォードデビュー

The word “fuck” was scrawled on the wall, over the head of the photographer Juergen Teller, at Haider Ackermann’s intimate debut show for Tom Ford on Wednesday night. It wasn’t an insult. The walls all around the room had been crafted to resemble, according to your cultural references, the steamed-up glass of shower stalls, or windscreens, or maybe a floor-to-ceiling window, if you’re the adventurous and exhibitionist sort with your trysts. There were pressed handprints and lots of steam, and the whole thing was slightly mirrored. Were we the orgiastic masses, or were we merely voyeurs, peering in? That’s all very, very Tom Ford.

It also bodes well for anyone concerned Haider Ackermann may be stripping the sex out of Tom Ford – he wouldn’t of course. He couldn’t. But what he did – in this extraordinary example of a house refocus – was to offer a truly fresh perspective without losing the Ford soul.

Understandably, the audience were curious as to what Ackermann would do at Ford. Both designers are fêted, and well-loved industry figures – the audience was filled with well-wishers from both sides of this union. But, as designers, they are, to say the least, distinct. Ackemann’s tiny, cultish Paris shows garnered international acclaim for their exceptional use of colour and fabric, the slow pace of their models, their regal beauty. They were poetic.

No one would ever use that word to describe Tom Ford, perhaps unfairly. There are certainly poetic moments in Ford’s career – although they versed towards the filmic, like a Gucci show from 2003, where models walked on rose petals to the strains of Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares 2 U to pluck at a collective heartstring. A deep connection between the two, actually, is the ability to elicit emotion from their clothes. I remember being numbed by the beauty of early Ackermann collections, and Tom Ford’s consistently cinematic vision blew me away again and again.

So that’s how they’re perfect bedfellows – and bed is kind of where Ackermann decided to start, with his narrative. “He is nightlife, I am the morning after,” Ackermann wrote, to introduce the show. But the clothes themselves didn’t seem about a roll in the hay. Nor, indeed, the hair – kudos to Guido Palau for the immaculate coifs, custom cut and dyed. “It’s a big hair moment”, he told me ahead of time.

It was actually a big everything moment – a reset for Tom Ford and a re-emergence of Haider Ackermann. This collection encapsulated the handwriting of both, and somehow melded those disparate worlds together, finding that emotional commonality. Of course, this wasn’t a collaboration – Ford was sat in the audience with a beatific smile, and Ackermann embraced him when he came out for his bow, but Ford wasn’t in the building, and the house is now Ackermann’s. Yet there was a resonance throughout with the ideas of Tom Ford, reiterated with Ackermann’s handwriting.

“Tom Ford is nightlife, I am the morning after” – Haider Ackermann

In a sense, this show championed the differences between the two men, as much as it celebrated their connection. Like his namesake Henry Ford, you could have Tom Ford’s clothes in any colour, as long as they were black. It was a primary criticism of his time at Yves Saint Laurent – a name whose founder was lauded for an exquisite and unexpected colour sense. Indeed, one reason Ackermann said he wanted to show in Paris was to right the wrongs done to Tom Ford there – to give his name the respect in the city it deserves. He did so, in scads.

Monochromes were still there, of course – “they are in the personality of this house,” Ackermann said. But his way with colour was at the fore, used to greatest effect to saturate a bunch of slick tailored suits, in the mould of the famous 1996 red velvet trouser suit that became an indelible symbol of Ford’s tenure at the house of Gucci. There were sinuous evening dresses that nodded to that collection too – again, rather than Ford’s black and white, they were in chalcedony and pale primrose and a virulent, truly fabulous poison green satin. (Weirdly, that same throwback show was evoked in Gucci’s own collection in Milan this season, so it seems Tom Ford circa 1996 is having a moment). And Karen Elson recalled post-show how her fringed floor-length gown in a bruised lilac threw back to a blue version she wore for Ford’s debut own-label womenswear show in 2011.

But, unlike most brand revivals, this collection wasn’t about specific moments – rather, about a feeling, a sense along with its sensuality. Interestingly, that’s also how Ackermann approached his stint at Jean Paul Gaultier: rather than a pastiche-y JPG hit parade, he just cut to the heart of what the label was about, in terms of tailoring, rigour and a love of women. He did the same with Ford – it became about desire. Desire is a powerful word, and it’s kind of what fashion is all about. Elicit desire, make us buy that handbag. Ackermann’s desire was deeper – it connected with longing, with his own sensuality and Ford’s strident sexuality, a common thread to link those with, let’s be frank, the genius of Ford’s marketing. Ford was often denigrated as ‘commercial’, but the ability to pluck our collective longings to such a degree we rush out to become the person he’s proposing is magical.

It was there, here, in Ackermann’s debut. These clothes were achingly desirable, from the opening slick and sleek leathers (a throwback to Ackermann’s stint at Berluti, which Ford wrote him a letter to say he loved) through to an extraordinary series of faux crocodile dresses embroidered entirely in beads. You need to see those up close to understand how they’re made. But there were also tiny details, true acts of design, that made this collection exceptional – the slithering ’T’ metallic closures on belts and shoes (perfect for Tilda and Timothée, another pair of important T’s in Ackermann’s life), the flash of flesh reveal as an apparently chaste satin evening dress turns a corner.

This has been a season obsessed with time. And this collection was an extraordinary one because it made you think simultaneously of past, present, and future. It reminded you of the great shows staged by both Ackermann and Ford over their respective, illustrious careers – their visions of humanity, here fused. It made you excited for a Ford future, of where this meeting of designer, brand and legacy can go next.

But most of all, the first fruits of this Ackermann-Ford union made you live in the moment. And to be in that room, on the Place Vendôme, watching these precious, jewel-coloured clothes glide by, was pure heaven.

The word “fuck” was scrawled on the wall, over the head of the photographer Juergen Teller, at Haider Ackermann’s intimate debut show for Tom Ford on Wednesday night. It wasn’t an insult. The walls all around the room had been crafted to resemble, according to your cultural references, the steamed-up glass of shower stalls, or windscreens, or maybe a floor-to-ceiling window, if you’re the adventurous and exhibitionist sort with your trysts. There were pressed handprints and lots of steam, and the whole thing was slightly mirrored. Were we the orgiastic masses, or were we merely voyeurs, peering in? That’s all very, very Tom Ford.

It also bodes well for anyone concerned Haider Ackermann may be stripping the sex out of Tom Ford – he wouldn’t of course. He couldn’t. But what he did – in this extraordinary example of a house refocus – was to offer a truly fresh perspective without losing the Ford soul.

Understandably, the audience were curious as to what Ackermann would do at Ford. Both designers are fêted, and well-loved industry figures – the audience was filled with well-wishers from both sides of this union. But, as designers, they are, to say the least, distinct. Ackemann’s tiny, cultish Paris shows garnered international acclaim for their exceptional use of colour and fabric, the slow pace of their models, their regal beauty. They were poetic.

No one would ever use that word to describe Tom Ford, perhaps unfairly. There are certainly poetic moments in Ford’s career – although they versed towards the filmic, like a Gucci show from 2003, where models walked on rose petals to the strains of Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares 2 U to pluck at a collective heartstring. A deep connection between the two, actually, is the ability to elicit emotion from their clothes. I remember being numbed by the beauty of early Ackermann collections, and Tom Ford’s consistently cinematic vision blew me away again and again.

So that’s how they’re perfect bedfellows – and bed is kind of where Ackermann decided to start, with his narrative. “He is nightlife, I am the morning after,” Ackermann wrote, to introduce the show. But the clothes themselves didn’t seem about a roll in the hay. Nor, indeed, the hair – kudos to Guido Palau for the immaculate coifs, custom cut and dyed. “It’s a big hair moment”, he told me ahead of time.

It was actually a big everything moment – a reset for Tom Ford and a re-emergence of Haider Ackermann. This collection encapsulated the handwriting of both, and somehow melded those disparate worlds together, finding that emotional commonality. Of course, this wasn’t a collaboration – Ford was sat in the audience with a beatific smile, and Ackermann embraced him when he came out for his bow, but Ford wasn’t in the building, and the house is now Ackermann’s. Yet there was a resonance throughout with the ideas of Tom Ford, reiterated with Ackermann’s handwriting.

“Tom Ford is nightlife, I am the morning after” – Haider Ackermann

In a sense, this show championed the differences between the two men, as much as it celebrated their connection. Like his namesake Henry Ford, you could have Tom Ford’s clothes in any colour, as long as they were black. It was a primary criticism of his time at Yves Saint Laurent – a name whose founder was lauded for an exquisite and unexpected colour sense. Indeed, one reason Ackermann said he wanted to show in Paris was to right the wrongs done to Tom Ford there – to give his name the respect in the city it deserves. He did so, in scads.

Monochromes were still there, of course – “they are in the personality of this house,” Ackermann said. But his way with colour was at the fore, used to greatest effect to saturate a bunch of slick tailored suits, in the mould of the famous 1996 red velvet trouser suit that became an indelible symbol of Ford’s tenure at the house of Gucci. There were sinuous evening dresses that nodded to that collection too – again, rather than Ford’s black and white, they were in chalcedony and pale primrose and a virulent, truly fabulous poison green satin. (Weirdly, that same throwback show was evoked in Gucci’s own collection in Milan this season, so it seems Tom Ford circa 1996 is having a moment). And Karen Elson recalled post-show how her fringed floor-length gown in a bruised lilac threw back to a blue version she wore for Ford’s debut own-label womenswear show in 2011.

But, unlike most brand revivals, this collection wasn’t about specific moments – rather, about a feeling, a sense along with its sensuality. Interestingly, that’s also how Ackermann approached his stint at Jean Paul Gaultier: rather than a pastiche-y JPG hit parade, he just cut to the heart of what the label was about, in terms of tailoring, rigour and a love of women. He did the same with Ford – it became about desire. Desire is a powerful word, and it’s kind of what fashion is all about. Elicit desire, make us buy that handbag. Ackermann’s desire was deeper – it connected with longing, with his own sensuality and Ford’s strident sexuality, a common thread to link those with, let’s be frank, the genius of Ford’s marketing. Ford was often denigrated as ‘commercial’, but the ability to pluck our collective longings to such a degree we rush out to become the person he’s proposing is magical.

It was there, here, in Ackermann’s debut. These clothes were achingly desirable, from the opening slick and sleek leathers (a throwback to Ackermann’s stint at Berluti, which Ford wrote him a letter to say he loved) through to an extraordinary series of faux crocodile dresses embroidered entirely in beads. You need to see those up close to understand how they’re made. But there were also tiny details, true acts of design, that made this collection exceptional – the slithering ’T’ metallic closures on belts and shoes (perfect for Tilda and Timothée, another pair of important T’s in Ackermann’s life), the flash of flesh reveal as an apparently chaste satin evening dress turns a corner.

This has been a season obsessed with time. And this collection was an extraordinary one because it made you think simultaneously of past, present, and future. It reminded you of the great shows staged by both Ackermann and Ford over their respective, illustrious careers – their visions of humanity, here fused. It made you excited for a Ford future, of where this meeting of designer, brand and legacy can go next.

But most of all, the first fruits of this Ackermann-Ford union made you live in the moment. And to be in that room, on the Place Vendôme, watching these precious, jewel-coloured clothes glide by, was pure heaven.