The model clutched her paper-bag purse like it was the most precious thing on Earth and marched headlong down the runway, as if tightening into a strong wind.
John Galliano had brought a gust of his hobo poetry — and also a visual metaphor for a recent chapter in his biography — as he stepped back onto the Paris fashion stage as creative director of Maison Margiela. His first women’s ready-to-wear collection for the house that Martin built was a winner: spunky, approachable and full of personality.
If the artisanal couture collection he showed in January left the audience wanting, here there were plenty of fine, real-world clothes: narrow maxi coats with that twinge of vintage Margiela always peddled; tattered tartan miniskirts that winked to Galliano’s London club days; and the kind of delicate, hourglass gown in black lace that Mr. Bias has always done so effortlessly.
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Another daring brand reinvention is getting under way, and Galliano — rebounding from anti-Semitic outbursts that led to his ouster from Dior in 2011 and a spectacular fall from grace — demonstrated range and finesse, not letting Margiela’s conceptual roots overpower his own romantic inclinations. For every patent peacoat with roughly hacked off sleeves there was a frothy lingerie top edged in marabou feathers. An austere black blouse-and-pants outfit would be followed up by a fun flapper dress flanked with fur.
There was plenty of humor, from the kooky drag-queen makeup Galliano may never let go to the frilly, orange rubber gloves and hairy shoes. Towardsthe end of the show, a model strolled out in what looked like a pin-striped jacket turned upside down — the sleeves tied around the back, the stiffened peplum bobbing around her neon-orange bra. Did he just send up the Bar Jacket, symbol of a sour yet spectacular episode of his career?
When uproarious applause could not dislodge the designer from backstage, the photographers tried chanting — “John, John, John, John” — but to no avail. The packed house still wouldn’t budge from the long rows of white benches until Italian industrialist Renzo Rosso, who gave a controversial talent a second chance, stood up and motioned everyone else to do the same, as if to say: All in good time.