It felt like the perfect time for a Jean Paul Gaultier revival.
Gaultier, a legendary designer, rose to fame for iconic creations like Madonna’s bullet bra. But that was merely one chapter in his long history of fashion revolutions.
He pioneered men’s skirts long before gender fluidity entered mainstream conversation, defied religious norms, celebrated all body and skin types, and championed the coexistence of camp and couture. His designs consistently provoked, yet always with genuine conviction and exceptional elegance. His masterful cutting skills even drew comparisons to Yves Saint Laurent, ultimately earning him the prestigious top position at Hermès from 2003 to 2010.
His legacy is a rich tapestry of chic social commentary, so much so that since his retirement in 2020, a rotating roster of guest designers – including Haider Ackermann (now of Tom Ford), Chitose Abe of Sacai, and Olivier Rousteing of Balmain – have each taken a turn crafting a couture collection for the house, drawing fresh inspiration from Gaultier’s archives.
Therefore, the announcement that Duran Lantink, a designer known for his own ‘enfant terrible’ reputation, would be the first official creative director since Gaultier himself, promised a breath of disruptive fresh air.
What would Lantink, who previously presented a man in a woman’s bare breast prosthesis and a woman in a man’s, conjure for his debut Gaultier collection? Would he tap into the prevailing political climate—such as France’s ongoing union strikes—or delve into the archives to unearth a fresh form of pointed critique? Would he seize this moment to once again make Gaultier the center of public discourse?
Instead, he delivered what felt like the fashion equivalent of an unsolicited, explicit image.
Playful, provocative or puerile? Duran Lantink’s version of Jean Paul Gaultier.
The collection featured a bodysuit adorned with a hyper-realistic, anatomically detailed print of a naked male body. Other pieces included scuba suits shredded into minimal football-like shoulder pads, connected by thin fabric straps to the ankles. There were also high-cut leotards reminiscent of ’80s Jazzercise and a Breton stripe dress sculpted into a wire-edged ‘S’ shape, evoking a portable Panton chair.
Aside from a few cropped, curvaceous bomber jackets, some low-slung pants designed to frame the hips, and a dazzling gold sequin coat, there wasn’t much that resembled traditional clothing.
This wasn’t an exercise in high-concept theorizing, à la Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garçons, who this season presented a collection rooted in the philosophy of ‘damaging perfect things,’ manifest in intricate blends of burlap, eyelet, and lace. No, Lantink’s vision was simply: raves!
A dream of burlap from Comme des Garçons …
… mouth guard accessories and duct tape drama at Maison Margiela by Glenn Martens.
“It’s not necessary to look for a deep concept behind every curve,” he explained backstage. “Ultimately, the goal is to be playful. Jean Paul Gaultier embodies nudity, sexuality, and provocation.” However, provocation without genuine meaning often descends into childishness.
The pressing question remains: can fashion still be truly transgressive? In a world where boundaries are constantly blurred, where yesterday’s avant-garde is today’s mainstream, the very concept of ‘edgy’ risks becoming cliché.
This sentiment was evident in Glenn Martens’s somewhat uninspired first ready-to-wear collection for Maison Margiela. Martens, whose previous guest stint at Gaultier yielded a terrific collection, and who presented an equally triumphant Margiela couture collection in July, this time featured models with their lips pulled into a wide, unsettling grin by mouth guards.
Intended to echo the brand’s signature four-stitch logo, these mouth guards instead looked like instruments of torture. While conceptually referencing founder Martin Margiela’s aim to depersonalize models and focus solely on the garments, they ironically became a distracting focal point, overshadowing Martens’s true experiments: collars and lapels that morphed or vanished, and gowns ingeniously reshaped with duct tape.
Now you see it: Clockwise from top left, looks from Hermès, Givenchy, Alexander McQueen and Rick Owens.
Exposed skin, meanwhile, has become ubiquitous. From the athletic bra tops paired with leather pencil skirts at Hermès, to the feminine bra tops with sarong skirts or mesh dresses with dramatic ruffles at Givenchy, it no longer feels daring. It’s less of a transgression and more of a mere shrug. When even Rick Owens, fashion’s notorious provocateur, collaborates with a bra maker and the outcome is unexpectedly sweet, it’s clear the fashion landscape has fundamentally shifted.
Specifically, the navel and the derriere have been the most prominently displayed body parts. At Alexander McQueen, Seán McGirr reintroduced the ‘bumster’ silhouette, while at Gaultier, Lantink championed the thong.
However, what once served as the ultimate boundary of decency, a bold statement of rebellion against societal norms and outdated perceptions, now feels like a lukewarm bid for attention. It’s a stark reminder that when everything is laid bare, the act of exposure inevitably loses its impact.
Perhaps, in this era, the most genuinely shocking act in fashion is simply creating truly magnificent clothes.