the turning point ∣ a paris fashion week story

I went to Paris fashion week, I came, I saw and I lost my religion. And yes dear folks, this sounds as dramatic as it is, so are you ready for my dark point of view on PFW? It all started with Suzy Menkes' brilliant article 'The Circus of Fashion'. Of course I was offended, how dare she mock my one and only fashion motto 'express yourself'. I'll put feathers everywhere when it comes to declaring my fashion identity. For god's sake I have been doing it since I was 5 years old, so who does she think she is to tell me not to? In other words, she put a dagger right into my feminist fashion heart: I have the right to be a peacock, online and offline! It is the first law of the fashion constitution.
Completely convinced that she was wrong I packed my suitcase for PFW with all the feathers I could find and ended up with a 20kg heavy bag (for one night) filled with the crème de la crème of the fashion industry fully paid by my credit card (and with a little help from my mom's one). There was more Louis Vuitton, Dior, Chanel, Miu Miu and Diane von Furstenberg in one cubic meter than in Anna Dello Russo's town car trunk. My suitcase should have come with a warning: In case you want to abduct me, steal my luggage it is worth a lot more. After all, I was going to PFW, wasn't this what it was all about? High-end girls wearing high-end names? As a 35 year old eclectic and slightly odd lady I desperately wanted to be a part of it all. At that point I still firmly believed that the Paris fashion scene was going to give me a warm welcome and embrace me in their fabulous-not fat-fashion arms.
And then the moment of truth! I am a walking display for designer goods, not so tall, not so slim, not with a toned and tanned body (Menkes, 2013) ready to check out the Chanel show, with NO invite that is. With great care and prudent steps I entered the Grand Palais area. Not knowing what was going to happen and how people, as in street stylers, were going to react. Okay, this was it, people started to pop up to take my picture. A little smile appeared on my face. All of a sudden a photographer made me stop and within a blink of an eye other photographers joined him. Mission accomplished: my outfit and I were good enough to be photographed. My god have you got any idea what that does to a woman's ego? It is magical, you grow 3 inches instantly and your complete body posture changes from a scared little girl into a peacock that wanted to scream 'look at me, I'm wearing Chanel or Dior or Prada or Céline or every other it-brand'. Still not so sure about what just happened I stopped at the entrance to observe the situation. An then it slowly hit me, this was a circus, the circus of fashion.
Within 5 minutes you realize how Darwin's natural selection works and how the fittest survive. The beautiful if-folks with an invite who are waking towards the entrance of a show and are wearing clothes that are not even for sale yet, have the best chance to 'survive' the street stylers. It is not an or/or story, it is more of an and/and story. These are the qualities you need to obtain your fashion week goals (whatever they may be). But what about the real fans? What about the clients with no invites? The nobodies with no vigorous online avatars who spend thousands of dollars on a high-end brand? What about them mr. Arnault? What about your true fans who are scaffolding your million dollar company and turning it into an even bigger one? As if they are good enough to buy whatever they desire but not cool enough to wear it in the open. With a lot of bravoure you will open the gates to your boutiques for those who are flapping the green ones and indulge them with the best service ever. And with a lof of bravoure you will explain them your no-gifts policy.
But your client-strategy and your pr-strategy are not a match made in heaven. Apparently you are willing to overwhelm the great & powerful online Mousketeers of fashion with designer gifts. Not to introduce them to your brand or because they have been unconditionally supporting you. Nope, you simply bribe them so they would use their online power to show off your creations to the world of street style madness. This mechanism can be described as 'the Skinner-box experiment of the multimedia era' and shows us who is in control. The subjects, who are driven by their insatiable urge for recognition, attention and goodies, will enhance this behavior until the reinforcers stop. Karl and his Chanel supermarket- the equivalent of the Skinner-box- even proved that you can actually provoke certain behavior. In other words, even the most powerful fashion gurus on this planet could not control their actions when unlimited access was granted to objects pimped with a certain fashion logo.

However there is unintentional effect when you have created the circus of fashion. Your pr-strategy did not take into account that some of the it-folks are losing their religion fashion identity. These walking ad machines are wiling to pull tricks (literally) in front of the cameras and feed their mutliple online statuses almost 24/7 as long as you reward them with the finest goodies and the best seats in the house. They are no longer capable to determine wether they like your brand or not because their deliberation system has been blurred by your gifts-policy. Even I, as a blogger, am not free of guilt. With open arms and a big smile I welcomed numerous goodies, even if I didn't like them.

I went to PFW because I was convinced that the circus of fashion was an exuberant celebration of an art form. Not the Circus Mrs. Menkes was talking about, but a high-standard and glorious festival created by those who understand the power of 'expressing yourself'. Some call it 'the democratization of fashion'. Every single being on this planet has the opportunity to take part in it and to be honored by the ultimite reward: to be eternalized on any kind of street style website. But don't be fooled, this so-called democratization of fashion is as faux as Chanel's supermarket. So in the end I have to agree with Suzy Menkes! Instead of elaborating the empowerment of the individual fashionista, PFW is a well organized orchestra led by a rigorous conductor. At first the ensemble may look like chaos, but look closely and you will discover the order in this chaos. There is only one rule: if you want to be a part of this symphonic jungle you need to be somebody. Maybe somebody who has lost his/her individuality, but at least you have one certainty 'for two months a year it is all about me'.

This fashion adventure has left a devastating impression on me and changed my relationship with fashion. I lost my faith in fashion and because of this a deeply rooted part of my human being has been let down by those I trusted and admired. People change and right now I am at a turning point not knowing yet what direction to go. Will I ever be able to fully trust Mr. Arnault and his cronies again? Will this mean the end of 'Absolutely Mrs. K'? Or will I rise as a phoenix peacock into some other kind of online avatar? To be honest, I don't know. I still believe in the 'fashion peacock' and Mrs. Menkes had no right to marginalize this endangered species. But I agree with one thing: I only believe in those who are true and genuine and those who understand the power of 'expressing yourself'.

To be continued or not …

photo anne baroness o.