Yohji Yamamoto had already sung and recorded a version of “Comment te dire adieu” when the world learned that Françoise Hardy had died. That his show opened with her era-defining song on the same day that her funeral took place across town was purely happenstance. But then what about the choice of the song, which translates as “How to say goodbye?” Surely Yamamoto was not sending a message? “No, of course not!” he replied emphatically, as all of us huddling around him breathed a sigh of relief.
Standing by his side was Charlotte Rampling, who made a surprise runway appearance minutes earlier. The esteemed British actress had walked for Yamamoto once before, at the fall 1998 show; both instances, men’s collections. Today, projecting mature, androgynous insouciance with her slight figure, fedora, and black shades, she first wore roomy, windowpane check pants held up by suspenders, a simple round-neck top and tennis shoes. Her finale look comprised a white shirt with a noticeably uneven hemline as if buttoned incorrectly, its surface covered in writing and a sketch in her likeness—drawn by Yohji-san, of course.
“The way he draws is the way he writes stories,” said Matthias Augustyniak of M/M Paris, whose own drawings have birthed brand logos and who is working on a book project for the designer. “It’s like his notebook.” Whether one could read Japanese or not, Rampling’s shirt looked like ultra-soft T-shirt fabric, and was just one example of the weightless feel of this show.
Where the women’s collection last season revolved around Cubism-inspired constructions, this lineup was free of defined forms. Not to say that the clothes were shapeless. Layers in silk and rayon were at once lean and loose, designed to optimize breathability. Robe coats were patterned with openings while certain knits seemed woven from spider silk. “You’re the sunshine of my life,” “Follow me to the end of night,” “Here comes the sun,” and “Le beau est toujours bizarre,” (the beautiful is always strange”) were collaged with photo prints of flowers, black-and-white beatnik types, and advertising graphics. Yet the mass of imagery was offset by the ease of these silhouettes—related to Yamamoto’s ongoing concern about the planet heating up.
He also revealed his return to Buddhism in order to make sense of a “world [that] is becoming too dangerous.” Have his studies informed his designs? It’s about asking questions, many questions,” he said.
In the best of ways, Yamamoto’s clothes raise more questions than they answer. We may never understand how he arrives at seemingly infinite deconstructions, yet we know they feel perpetually avant-garde. Accordingly, his devotees are more transgenerational than ever, from the 76-year-old contemporary artist Not Vital spotted in total Yohji for his opening at the Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac two weeks ago, to Maluma and Rich the Kid in today’s front row. As for why Rampling appreciates the clothes: “It’s because you can’t find [them] anywhere, that’s what I’m drawn to.”